The Rajai Incident
The other day, KP and I took an afternoon off from work and went to the Cantonment to buy some trousers for him. KP was scheduled to attend some marriages, and he felt that his current set of four trousers wouldn't do the occasions justice. Since I anyways had to buy replacements for my existing pair of held-in-place-by-Fevicol shoes, I promptly agreed to the outing. Plus, I like going to M G Road. It's a vibrant place and frequented by shoppers from such diverse cultures that I never get bored people-watching there.
KP is quite a particular shopper. He is very meticulous to detail, and always seems to know the right questions to ask of the salesmen. At the trouser store, he asked about the fiber content of the trouser-material. The salesman pointed to the information printed on the cloth, which mentioned that it was made of a certain percentage of Merino wool. On reading this, KP turned at me and gave a knowing smile. He drew a blank. He then said, "Merino Wool!?" and laughed. I still didn't get it. He patiently continued, "Remember Jaipur?"
And then, in a flash, it all came back to me. Of course! He was referring to The Rajai Incident, which occurred a few years back. There we were in Jaipur - KP, PS and I, three people without a care in the world who had decided to attend Ani's marriage. I ordinarily shy away from marriages, but Ani is the whitest man I know, and my ex-apartment mate. It would be fun to reconnect with him, and at the same time warn his wife-to-be about the impending dangers of Living With Ani.
One Tuesday afternoon KP, PS and I found ourselves staring at the prospect of observing some long-winded wedding-related religious rituals. Ani helpfully suggested that we could skip this, and instead take off and visit the walled city of Jaipur. We could walk around, look at the Hawa Mahal, Jantar Mantar and City Palace, and perhaps shop for the famous Jaipuri rajais (quilts) in the vicinity.
And thus began The Rajai Incident.
We alighted from the autorickshaw at Ajmeri Gate and walked our touristy way into the pink city. A couple of kilometers and we were standing in front of Hawa Mahal. ("No point going in", Ani had said) We took pride in this insider knowledge, staring curiously at the tourists we saw in the windows of the façade.
One down, two to go. We asked a passerby where the City Palace lay and he provided the necessary directions. The passerby then began on fundaes on what else lay in the vicinity and carried on so long that we initially suspected him of being an aspiring tour guide. However, he showed no signs of wanting to pile on to us. Helpful dude, thought I.
"One thing you should not miss", concluded the passerby, "is the weekly Government Sale taking place further down the road. This takes place only on Tuesdays and closes at 4pm. This is arranged by the government to provide quality goods to the consumers, who often get fooled by all the shops around. Hundreds of people come here on Tuesdays just to shop at this sale."
Impressive, thought we, but we had come for the sights. There also remained the question of food, with the clock showing a latish afternoon and we still in an un-lunched state. Walking ahead, we debated with each other whether we should go see the Palace first or have lunch. The problem was that we couldn't see any decent-looking restaurants around. We asked another passerby where good places to eat could be, and he told us about this decent place that lay just around the corner.
"Have you already been to the Palace, Jantar Mantar and the sale?", he asked. All these places close early so it might be good to see them first and then go have grub. We admitted we had been lax in our planning.
Walking further on, PS became interested in buying some souvenirs for back home. His logic was that although he would be around for some more days, the sale being a once-a-week affair ought not to be missed. He caught hold of a third passerby and asked him for directions. Fortunately the passerby was going in the same direction, and he led us nearly to the gates of the place. En route, he plied PS with fundaes. KP and I, walking behind, could not hear the conversation but we marveled at how helpful these Jaipuri people were.
I was a bit taken aback when I entered the place. I was expecting a fair ground with stalls here and there and everywhere. The sale, however, was a single shop, and not a large shop at that. In any case, I had no enthu to buy anything, so I set foot inside the shop disinterestedly, resigned to give my opinion wherever required.
One of the salesmen sat us down and told us of the funda behind the sale. Apparently the shop was promoted by the Handicraft Board and normally dealt only with wholesale customers. However, once a week on Tuesdays, they condescended to sell to the general public at the same wholesale price. Thus the price was fixed. They were in the business of selling sarees, kurtas and the famous Jaipuri rajai. He proceeded to show us the various qualities of rajais.
The first was a rajai with 100gm of filling and a thin cotton cover. This one sold for 250 bucks. It was filled with the finest Merino Wool imported from Australia. While other rajais in the market had transitioned to using fibre filling, this was one of the rare rajais that stuck to the traditional Jaipuri ways of rajaimaking.
At this point PS had a question: If this rajai was indeed filled with Merino wool, why do you say it is made in the traditional way? Ah, said the salesman, we fill it with Merino wool imported from Australia to provide the best quality to our customers. But, persisted PS, what did the traditional rajaimakers use in their traditional rajais before they knew of the existence of Merino wool? The salesman brushed aside the question and proceeded to tell us about how the rajai could withstand Jaipur colds. What's more, it could be washed without the filling all coming together in clumps, no doubt a useful quality for a rajai to possess. But, he admitted, the cover cloth was a bit weak and would tear in some time. We could either cover it with one of our own cloths or consider buying one of the better rajais on sale. We took a look.
There were four different types of rajais ranging in price from 250 bucks to 650 bucks. The 650 bucks one was filled with 450 grams of wool and had won a Presidents Award for rajais. It could be used in summers as well as winters. In summers one would just lay it down as a carpet and sleep on it under a fan and one would think that he was sleeping under a tree in the forest. In the winter, the rajai could withstand negative temperatures. Armymen serving in Kashmir had bought these rajais. The cover, moreover, looked as if it would last longer than the 250 bucks one.
PS considered a rajai with a red color. It quite caught his fancy, until the salesman told him it was a good "suhaagan color". KP tried to persuade PS into buying a double rajai, but PS was more interested in the single. He considered various colours before settling on the suhaagan color. He also enquired about some exotic-printed rajais we saw in the rack behind the salesman. The salesman told us that they were rajais too, costing 825 bucks. But those rajais had not won the Presidents Award, while the rajai PS was buying had. He recommended the 650 bucks one in favor of the 825 bucks one. He also requested us to take a look at their sarees. As PS's parents were going to be visiting in a few days, PS asked whether he could come later with them. No deal, he said. They did not allow retail customers on other days of the week than Tuesday. So we took a look at the sarees, but the sheer madness of buying a female article of clothing without any females present finally struck us and we declined politely.
The salesman said it was unfortunate, because such sarees normally sold at three to four times their cost outside. A 450 bucks saree was worth at least 1800. Benarasi people would come to the shop and plead to be sold the sarees for 1800 bucks, but the shopkeeper had some strange anti-Banarasi bias and refused to sell sarees to Benarasis at any price. I began to have some serious doubts on the sanity of the salesman as he said this.
As PS attempted the vain task of bargaining with the salesman to bring down the price of the 650 buck suhaagan rajai he had bought, I had had enough and stepped outside. After a while, so did KP and PS, KP slightly sad that PS had not bought a double rajai.
I was slightly dismayed that some sidey shopping had consumed so much time that could be have been better spent in going around the sights, but consoled myself that shopping and sightseeing were both touristy activities. While one introduces you to places, the other makes you interact with the local people. I didn't care much for the latter, since I am not an extrovert by nature.
But KP is. He also has a remarkable memory for faces. Which explained his confidence when, as we made our way back and passed in front of the Hawa Mahal, he pointed out to us the three passers-by that we had encountered on our way to the sale.
They were sitting on scooters by the roadside, chatting away with each other.
KP is quite a particular shopper. He is very meticulous to detail, and always seems to know the right questions to ask of the salesmen. At the trouser store, he asked about the fiber content of the trouser-material. The salesman pointed to the information printed on the cloth, which mentioned that it was made of a certain percentage of Merino wool. On reading this, KP turned at me and gave a knowing smile. He drew a blank. He then said, "Merino Wool!?" and laughed. I still didn't get it. He patiently continued, "Remember Jaipur?"
And then, in a flash, it all came back to me. Of course! He was referring to The Rajai Incident, which occurred a few years back. There we were in Jaipur - KP, PS and I, three people without a care in the world who had decided to attend Ani's marriage. I ordinarily shy away from marriages, but Ani is the whitest man I know, and my ex-apartment mate. It would be fun to reconnect with him, and at the same time warn his wife-to-be about the impending dangers of Living With Ani.
One Tuesday afternoon KP, PS and I found ourselves staring at the prospect of observing some long-winded wedding-related religious rituals. Ani helpfully suggested that we could skip this, and instead take off and visit the walled city of Jaipur. We could walk around, look at the Hawa Mahal, Jantar Mantar and City Palace, and perhaps shop for the famous Jaipuri rajais (quilts) in the vicinity.
And thus began The Rajai Incident.
We alighted from the autorickshaw at Ajmeri Gate and walked our touristy way into the pink city. A couple of kilometers and we were standing in front of Hawa Mahal. ("No point going in", Ani had said) We took pride in this insider knowledge, staring curiously at the tourists we saw in the windows of the façade.
One down, two to go. We asked a passerby where the City Palace lay and he provided the necessary directions. The passerby then began on fundaes on what else lay in the vicinity and carried on so long that we initially suspected him of being an aspiring tour guide. However, he showed no signs of wanting to pile on to us. Helpful dude, thought I.
"One thing you should not miss", concluded the passerby, "is the weekly Government Sale taking place further down the road. This takes place only on Tuesdays and closes at 4pm. This is arranged by the government to provide quality goods to the consumers, who often get fooled by all the shops around. Hundreds of people come here on Tuesdays just to shop at this sale."
Impressive, thought we, but we had come for the sights. There also remained the question of food, with the clock showing a latish afternoon and we still in an un-lunched state. Walking ahead, we debated with each other whether we should go see the Palace first or have lunch. The problem was that we couldn't see any decent-looking restaurants around. We asked another passerby where good places to eat could be, and he told us about this decent place that lay just around the corner.
"Have you already been to the Palace, Jantar Mantar and the sale?", he asked. All these places close early so it might be good to see them first and then go have grub. We admitted we had been lax in our planning.
Walking further on, PS became interested in buying some souvenirs for back home. His logic was that although he would be around for some more days, the sale being a once-a-week affair ought not to be missed. He caught hold of a third passerby and asked him for directions. Fortunately the passerby was going in the same direction, and he led us nearly to the gates of the place. En route, he plied PS with fundaes. KP and I, walking behind, could not hear the conversation but we marveled at how helpful these Jaipuri people were.
I was a bit taken aback when I entered the place. I was expecting a fair ground with stalls here and there and everywhere. The sale, however, was a single shop, and not a large shop at that. In any case, I had no enthu to buy anything, so I set foot inside the shop disinterestedly, resigned to give my opinion wherever required.
One of the salesmen sat us down and told us of the funda behind the sale. Apparently the shop was promoted by the Handicraft Board and normally dealt only with wholesale customers. However, once a week on Tuesdays, they condescended to sell to the general public at the same wholesale price. Thus the price was fixed. They were in the business of selling sarees, kurtas and the famous Jaipuri rajai. He proceeded to show us the various qualities of rajais.
The first was a rajai with 100gm of filling and a thin cotton cover. This one sold for 250 bucks. It was filled with the finest Merino Wool imported from Australia. While other rajais in the market had transitioned to using fibre filling, this was one of the rare rajais that stuck to the traditional Jaipuri ways of rajaimaking.
At this point PS had a question: If this rajai was indeed filled with Merino wool, why do you say it is made in the traditional way? Ah, said the salesman, we fill it with Merino wool imported from Australia to provide the best quality to our customers. But, persisted PS, what did the traditional rajaimakers use in their traditional rajais before they knew of the existence of Merino wool? The salesman brushed aside the question and proceeded to tell us about how the rajai could withstand Jaipur colds. What's more, it could be washed without the filling all coming together in clumps, no doubt a useful quality for a rajai to possess. But, he admitted, the cover cloth was a bit weak and would tear in some time. We could either cover it with one of our own cloths or consider buying one of the better rajais on sale. We took a look.
There were four different types of rajais ranging in price from 250 bucks to 650 bucks. The 650 bucks one was filled with 450 grams of wool and had won a Presidents Award for rajais. It could be used in summers as well as winters. In summers one would just lay it down as a carpet and sleep on it under a fan and one would think that he was sleeping under a tree in the forest. In the winter, the rajai could withstand negative temperatures. Armymen serving in Kashmir had bought these rajais. The cover, moreover, looked as if it would last longer than the 250 bucks one.
PS considered a rajai with a red color. It quite caught his fancy, until the salesman told him it was a good "suhaagan color". KP tried to persuade PS into buying a double rajai, but PS was more interested in the single. He considered various colours before settling on the suhaagan color. He also enquired about some exotic-printed rajais we saw in the rack behind the salesman. The salesman told us that they were rajais too, costing 825 bucks. But those rajais had not won the Presidents Award, while the rajai PS was buying had. He recommended the 650 bucks one in favor of the 825 bucks one. He also requested us to take a look at their sarees. As PS's parents were going to be visiting in a few days, PS asked whether he could come later with them. No deal, he said. They did not allow retail customers on other days of the week than Tuesday. So we took a look at the sarees, but the sheer madness of buying a female article of clothing without any females present finally struck us and we declined politely.
The salesman said it was unfortunate, because such sarees normally sold at three to four times their cost outside. A 450 bucks saree was worth at least 1800. Benarasi people would come to the shop and plead to be sold the sarees for 1800 bucks, but the shopkeeper had some strange anti-Banarasi bias and refused to sell sarees to Benarasis at any price. I began to have some serious doubts on the sanity of the salesman as he said this.
As PS attempted the vain task of bargaining with the salesman to bring down the price of the 650 buck suhaagan rajai he had bought, I had had enough and stepped outside. After a while, so did KP and PS, KP slightly sad that PS had not bought a double rajai.
I was slightly dismayed that some sidey shopping had consumed so much time that could be have been better spent in going around the sights, but consoled myself that shopping and sightseeing were both touristy activities. While one introduces you to places, the other makes you interact with the local people. I didn't care much for the latter, since I am not an extrovert by nature.
But KP is. He also has a remarkable memory for faces. Which explained his confidence when, as we made our way back and passed in front of the Hawa Mahal, he pointed out to us the three passers-by that we had encountered on our way to the sale.
They were sitting on scooters by the roadside, chatting away with each other.
Shrik,
ReplyDeletenever knew U had a talent to blog. Will read your other ones too.
Keep writing and keep me informed.