THESE DAYS, travel abroad is practically a routine thing among the middleclasses, of all ages. Leaving aside the moneyed, who go (if reports are to be believed) for foreign holidays at least twice a year, even the middle level executive or a smallish businessperson now goes beyond our borders once or twice in a lifetime. This is over and above those who have to travel outside the country on work. And, it may be said, the numbers of young or middle aged people who are sent abroad by their IT or export firms are growing rapidly every year.

The point here is that today’s travellers are not the wideyed, easily impressed lot of the last century, about whom was written the popular Bangla song Bilet Deshta Maati / Shonar Rupor Noy (The soil of England is made of earth/ Not of gold or silver). This portrays the surprise of the first time “native” traveller on seeing that the streets of Vilayet are not paved with gold. What a change from today, when, post the Lehman Brothers crash, it is perhaps the other way round for many NRIs in the financial sector who have lost their jobs in the West.

However, even in these more blasé days, there is one aspect of the West that has all travellers from our country impressed no end. This actually has nothing to do with money, but with morals. True, we are always bragging about how “spiritual” we are as a country. This seems to give us a sense of moral superiority that is quite unwarranted, given the actual facts. For, unfortunately, in this context we in this country look shockingly backward, ethically, every time a comparison comes up.

One is referring here to honesty, plain and simple. Yes, straightforward honesty, something that permeates transactions across even the smallest levels of the marketplace. It is a diminutive thing, this honesty under discussion, and yet it symbolizes a huge difference in mindset between cultures, in which we, alas, come off very poorly indeed. This is the kind of honesty that is ingrained in the commercial behaviour of even a very small shopkeeper, and the parallel lack of it in this land of ours.

Actually, most of us have grown up with this kind of petty thievery all around us, and are now so used to it that we barely give it a second thought. It is only when we see foreigners being ripped off by the roadside vendor that we realize how endemic this has become. But, as we all know, even though we are primed to be suspicious of all whom we deal with commercially, there have been many, many times when we ourselves have been thugged right royally.

This is why we need to hone our haggling skills from a very young age. For no fish or vegetable vendor, for instance, will ever quote the correct price in the market. Is this not dishonesty? What if the prospective buyer does not know how to haggle? There is a hundred percent certainty that the vendor will pocket the extra profit, and treat it as a gift from heaven, a result perhaps of his “good karma” in a previous life.

Indeed, living in India , one needs to be on high alert every time one is involved in a commercial transaction in the seething marketplace. The customer can successfully haggle down the price of the chicken he is buying, but his vigilance cannot end there. He needs to be alert to the possibility (the certainty, almost,) that the vendor will now try to crook him while weighing the bird. The truly successful householder is the one who can negotiate all these perils of the bazaar, and bring home the weight and quality he has paid for, at a price that is right.

No wonder travellers to the more “advanced” countries cannot help feeling amazed while shopping there. A pound of pears changes hands after the stipulated number of dollars is handed over. No haggling, no feeling either triumphant at having bettered the seller, or conversely, crestfallen at having been cheated. One can be quite certain that the weight of the fruits is what one has paid for. Really, how tame, compared to the jungle that is our average market. Buying products from the bazaars of our country needs a complex set of skills, which are acquired after much trial and error through a lifetime.

The complexity of the whole process is unimaginable for the first time visitor to our markets. The price that the vendor asks for a kilo of bhindi for instance, depends on many extraneous factors. If the potential customer is a smartly dressed woman whom the vendor has seen getting down from a fancy car, the price is sure to be many times more than if she were a traditionally dressed housewife-type with a worn plastic basket. But that is not all. There is apparently some parameters by which these vendors operate. The obviously down-at-heel customer is just as likely to be ripped off as the economically solvent one. Why? This is probably because the former is likely to be a meek person, without the economic clout and confidence to haggle vigorously with the vendor.

Indeed, any housewife who has sent out the household help to the shops for a bit of shopping has been faced with this phenomenon. The sweet shop where the maid is sent to get some fresh cream, unaware that the woman is actually a household help, sells her some stale, smelly, sour stuff that has been lying in the shop for several days. They would never have done this if the mistress of the house herself had gone. Compassion for the economically poorer section is not a virtue that is to be seen in our markets.

Unfortunately, this thievery exists everywhere. One needs to be hawkeyed all the time. One can be a regular customer of a pharmacy, buying up large amounts of medicines every month, for instance. But that is no guarantee that the guy will not try to make an extra rupee off you, on the sly. He is not above fudging the total, adding a small amount to it so that your suspicions are not aroused. If found out, he can always blame his calculator, giving it a few smacks to reinforce his assertion that it is acting up. Besides, there is always the well worn ploy of adding extra taxes over and above the MRP printed on the packets. He is secure in the knowledge that very few customers, hassled as they are and pressed for time, read the small print, which clearly says, “Inclusive of all taxes.” The small time barber who gets a phoren customer thanks his stars, for he can now quote a price at will, and be quite sure that the sum will be paid up, without demur. And let us not forget that ultimate rip-off artiste, the city’s autorickshaw driver. Having successfully resisted all efforts to install meters, he is now the symbol of all petty dishonesty.

All Things Considered, many places in the North of our country are synonymous with thievery in the marketplace. Unfortunately, we in these parts seem to be following them at a swift pace.

MITRA PHUKAN