Last issue, we carried a covid-era piece on Chennai’s suburban trains from Karthik Nagappan. In this issue, we present Karthik’s take on the vegetable market at T Nagar.
– Associate Editor
At the bustling vegetable market at T Nagar, you must keep your wits sharp when you shop, lest you’re put on by a veteran selling his wares in peak hour. You see, you must create an impression with the vendors so they don’t fail to recognize you as a ‘regular’ – frequent customers are greeted with a warm smile, and the chances of buying fresh vegetables are considerably brighter. No one wants to go home with sad veggies! The repercussions will be made known in the kitchen and your mother (or wife) may not be gentle in their critique – you’ll have to stomach commentary like un moonja paathaale thalaila molaga arachiruppanga!
I’ve learnt, though, that shopping becomes a more fulfilling experience when you build a nice relationship of mutual respect with the vendors, driven by appreciation, feedback and trust. In a busy market with plenty of outlets, I buy vegetables only from five shops. Of these, one is a sort of general shop where I buy most produce including onions and tomatoes; one where I buy coriander and mint; and one where I buy nothing but cauliflower. I share a special camaraderie with each vendor – they know exactly how many days it has been since I last visited their shop and always ask why I’ve been missing for so long. If they think I look dull, they express concern over my health and ask after my well being. I do the same to them, too. If a particular dish came out well because of the freshness of the vegetables, I make sure to let them know; I notice their new look when they change their hairdo, compliment a new shirt, and wish them on special occasions. Often, our discussions go deeper – we chat about the economy, the state of politics, societal issues and more. I pick and choose the veggies I need during our conversation, and am never hurried – I even choose ladies fingers one by one! I get insider tips too – I am warned to avoid vegetables that may not be so great on that particular day, and sometimes even told to return the next day when fresh stocks are expected. I feel so pleased with my networking skills when this happens!
The shop at which I buy assorted produce is run by three partners. Of them, the anna has grown quite close to me. He was missing for a while and I kept asking the other two where he was. I was told that he was unwell and may not return. I was not dissuaded though – I kept asking after him every time I went to the shop. He returned this month and I was so happy to see him! He said that the boys told him that I would often ask about him. That’s it you know – that is all he needs to treat you as a special customer! He never gives me old stuff. I have to ask him for the bill ten times before he replies. ‘380 sir!’ I make the payment, thank him and leave. That is what is expected as a sign of trust and mutual respect.
The sales guy at the shop where I buy coriander has the best sales pitch I’ve come across so far. Depending on how close a customer is to his shop, he either plays up or plays down his pitch – but not once has he failed to draw a buyer into his shop. We had our little chats where he described how he built this tactic over some time. I actually miss these people if I don’t see them in the market when I go! When coriander was selling at Rs. 25 a bunch, he said ‘Kammi dhan na, 25…’ The prices dropped to Rs. 10 on my following visit, and I couldn’t help teasing him. Saar, andha kammi vela kothamali evlo? I asked, and he broke into a smile. Where the prices are Rs. 25, or 5, the fact is that he makes sure that I am given the best stuff. He always asks me about it on the next visit, too – Anna, pona vaati pucca dhaana? How sweet!
My favourite of the lot though is the bro at the cauliflower shop. He has such style and swagger! He has this distinct way of picking one sample, cutting the base and tossing it into the customer’s bag, one that I greatly enjoy watching. ‘You’ll make Rajini Kanth jealous – neenga semma mass bro! I keep telling him.’ On his part, the guy never fails to give me feedback on my new beard or moustache – styles that I enjoy changing! We don’t speak much but we both share an amazing chemistry. The recent summer left cauliflowers in a sad state indeed, but I love the vegetable and refused to lose hope – I swung by his shop every time I went to the market. The guy was so honest though, that he waved me away even when he saw me approaching from a distance. ‘Sad stock, anna!’ he would call out. ‘I’ll let you know!’ I’d smile in return and turn back. When I went today, I found the man conducting roaring business – all with his usual brand of swag, of course. The veggies are super fresh, some of the best that I’d seen in the past two months. He flashed a smile at me when he saw me, one that toothpaste ads would vie for; ‘Semma poo na!’ he said and proceeded to pick out for me the very best of the lot. My vegetable purchase thus ended on a stylish and satisfying note indeed. Which supermarket can give one an experience like this?