Shopping Tales

I like shopping in Pakistan. The first time I went to Pakistan, I had a lot of shopping I wanted to do. 

First, I needed clothes because we didn't bring much of our own clothes. Also, after a year of Ammi, my mother-in-law, picking out clothes for me (including my wedding dress), I wanted to pick out some of my own stuff, especially the Valima outfits we were going to wear. I also wanted to buy souvenirs for my family & friends back home, stock up on some kitchen staples (Nimco, anyone?) and lastly, I wanted to bring home stuff to decorate my house. We mostly shopped at places like Saddar, Zainab Market and Bohri Bazaar, because that's more in line with the kind of shopping M's family does. Oh, and Lalukhait. 

Lalukhait is a pretty old, huge shopping center in what is probably not the best part of town. I really, really, REALLY wanted to go to Lalukhait. M's family home is actually pretty close to Lalukhait and that's where his family shops a lot of the time. M had described it to me even before we were married, and he's such a good storyteller that I could almost smell the pakoras, hear the tinkle of chooris and see all the brightly colored dupattas - even before I knew what those things were (vegetable fritters, glass bracelets and women's scarves, respectively.) 

But everyone was against it. Wouldn't I rather shop at some NICE place? (Nope.) And they didn't think it'd be very smart for a uncovered white girl to venture into such a supposedly brusque, untamed place. The aisles are very narrow in Lalukhait, and not everyone in that market is a very nice person. I was still undeterred, so M and his family pleaded with me to be rational. They suggested that if I insisted on going to Lalukhait, I should consider wearing a Burqa. 

(I won't get into the wrestling I had to do with that idea. Suffice it to say I was against it, but eventually agreed, and one of my brother-in-laws procured one for me, and the next day my mother-in-law helped pin me all up inside it. I don't mean to make light of burqas or the countless women who've been forced into them. My family felt this was a necessity for my safety and I obliged for their comfort, and it did end up making me feel more comfortable also. I am still completely against the idea of forcing burqas on anyone. Seriously - any trolls out there, I'm warning you. I will not entertain comments about this.) 

Anyway, all of a sudden no one had any idea that I was a white American girl. I "passed" as a typically Pakistani. M and I perfected the dance pretty quickly. He dressed up in his shoddiest pair of dingy shalwar kameez, on-their-last-legs flip-flops, oldest hat, and wrapped a shawl around himself. I wore my loudest, most colorful geometric print shalwar kameez with black socks and gloves. We decided that M would talk to me in Urdu as if I understood and I would just keep quiet. If I needed to say anything or ask questions, I would lean in and whisper as if I was a very fundamentalist, religious person who didn't want my voice heard. Everyone could still see my blue eyes and the very light skin around my eyes, but they just assumed I was a fair-skinned Pakistani, or perhaps that I was Pathan. This little shopping setup of trying to pass as if we were very poor was really successful. No one had any idea. And it led to some of our most interesting anecdotes!

First, in Lalukhait, we went shopping for a man's shawl. I was looking for a souvenir for my father and I saw one hanging on display at the entrance to one shop, and they looked alright. M asked the shopkeeper how much and he very rudely and offhandedly said 200 rupees. (less that $4) M let out a little gasp and said "200 rupees?!" then he starting talking to me in Urdu (which I only understood a bit at the time) about how expensive it was. I didn't know what he was saying, so I pointed to ones further inside the store that I had just noticed; they were obviously nicer than the ones we were asking about. M went over to touch the new ones and asked how much they were. "400 rupees" said the shopkeeper. M laughed, and started talking about how expensive everything was these days, telling me that it was too much. "Yes," he said, "they ARE much nicer than the ones over there, but FOUR HUNDRED rupees?!?!" All of this was for the benefit of the shopkeeper, of course. I had no idea what was going on. I was just browsing. And then I spotted the most beautiful camel-colored shawls, much thicker and the most beautiful designs. I immediately knew my father would love it, so I pointed it out to M - It was ALLLL the way in the back of the store, behind the shopkeeper who had not moved an inch from his chair to get up and help us shop. (Normally when shopkeepers see us, dollar signs flash before their eyes and they jump up to help us with any and every question we might have.) M asked the shopkeeper about the price of the shawls - which were clearly the nicest ones in the shop. And the shopkeeper responded "Don't worry about it. You can't afford it." Instead of laughing out loud right there, M kept up his facade and said sheepishly "Ok, I know, but how much anyway?" and then when the shopkeeper told him, M was like "600 RUPEES?!?" and scoffed. (About $12 at the time.) The shopkeeper said "I told you not to worry about it." I don't know how he did it without breaking out of character, but somehow M was able to go from poor idiot villager who could not imagine a shawl costing 600 rupees to buying and walking out of the shop with TWO OF THEM!!! (M liked them so much he'd decided he wanted one for himself.) And bargaining down to 700 rupees for both! What must that shopkeeper have thought? Why is this poor guys wasting his money on these nice shawls, why doesn't he just buy some he can afford? He's obviously controlled by his wife!

At another store we went to we saw a small jewelry box. I'd seen the same jewelry box a few days before in Zainab market and asked how much it cost and the shopkeeper had said 2,000 rupees ($40). I stopped M and pointed to the jewelry box and he asked this shopkeeper about the price. M even held up the end of his ajrack and covered part of his face with his mouth as he waited for the response - a very lower-class thing to do. The shopkeeper took one look at us and sold the jewelry box to us for 400 rupees - $8!!! What a difference a day makes, right?

By far, the best shopping story I have is when we happened upon the choori stands. Chooris are these glass bracelets that Pakistani and Indian women wear. They're made in all different colors and they're so beautiful. I had bought my first set in Houston at a wedding we'd gone to; the set had been metal (easier to export; glass breaks) and it had cost $20. I whispered to M, asking how much they cost. M asked the shopkeeper the price and then did a quick conversion in his head for me and said "About 25 or 50 cents each. I said "Each bracelet? How much for a whole set?" and M said "No, 25 cents for each set."

That was all I needed to hear. My pointer finger was a blur after that, pointing out one from each and every option. "I want this one and this one and that blue one and oooh, these green ones too...." We didn't even try bargaining the price down!

M was obviously comfortable in his role now, and he started chiding me in front of the shopkeeper, saying something along the lines of "Yeh bhi lay lo, Voh bhi lay lo...." "I want this, I want that..." He continued on: "You want one of everything! What am I supposed to do after you've spent all my money on useless things? We'll have a house full of bracelets and no food to eat!"

And the shopkeeper's response: "Allah ka shukr kero, bhai. Kitni achi bivi hay. Aap inti dair se bhole rahain aur in hona aik lufz bhi nahi kaha. Aaj kul aesi bivi kahan milti hain"

Basically, "You should thank god, bro. Look what a good wife she is. You've been saying that stuff for so long and she hasn't said one thing back to you. Where can one find such a wife these days?" 

Ha! Indeed. If only he'd known where M had found ME! 

(Although I think M said that his Ammi had found him a bride.)