Street vendors, or hawkers as we also call them, are such an integral part of our lives in Indian cities. I just finished reading a book by Musharraf Ali Farooqi, a delicious little novella named ‘Between Clay and Dust’. The story revolves around a pahalwan and a tawaif who share a beautiful platonic relationship that eventually surpasses all others in their lives, even blood ties. Set immediately post Partition, I found it fascinating that Gohar Jan’s source of news about the city was mostly through peddlars of wares and services like the bangle seller, the trinket lady, etc.
I remember the iconic Farooq Sheikh, Deepti Naval starrer ‘Chashme Baddoor’ from my childhood. Naval sold Chamko detergent powder door-to-door. I associated the film with a few visits to Delhi during my childhood when residential areas in South Delhi had a certain quiet buzz about them and vendors of many daily necessities, including fruits and vegetables, peddled their wares from door to door on a rudimentary wooden pushcart (redi). Coming from Mumbai, which had already become a big city where you went to the commodity and it rarely came to you, all this seemed fascinating.
From the two years I spent as an infant, I have very vague memories of the guys who walked through the streets with the bear (bhaloo) and the monkeys (madari with his bandars) to entertain us kids. We discussed this at lunch on Sunday and between mum, Rahul and me, we added more variety to that list- the knife sharpening guy, the utensil repairing guy, in an earlier time there were people who would come and coat brass vessels with aluminum so they could be used for cooking purposes.
It pains me to see this breed disappear. Not just because they imbued a certain flavor to our cities, but because it signals the arrival of a use-and-throw culture in which we have no place for repair re-use. I feel this is criminal. While the world is waking up to the benefits if re-use, we Indians who had a natural talent for this are giving away the advantage by blindly adopting a consumerist culture that exhibits no conscience at all. Also, the trend signifies our paranoia of letting unknown persons enter our homes. With gated living becoming popular, the breed will disappear entirely.
And yet, street vendors continue to thrive in certain situations because of their flexibility in adapting to demand and the meager resources they need. And nowhere is this more evident than in the omnipresence of street food! What would our public places be without the bhuttawala (guy selling corn cobs roasted right in front of you on hot coals), the chaat wala, the aloo bonda wala, the lassi stalls, the chana kulcha and chowmein stalls, the burger wala, the momo-guy (a relatively new addition)..the list is endless! Outside the posh Galleria market in Gurgaon, where the well heeled shop and splurge, the anda bread guy does brisk business. Outside Gurgaon’s call centers, the paratha stalls mint money and provide excellent service even in the middle of the night, with piping hot tea or cold drinks, whichever you prefer! Outside every glass and steel office building, there are clusters of food vendors, selling hot and freshly cooked meals. This is the real India, never mind the people inside the glass boxes pecking on their grilled sandwiches and pasta, or alternatively gingerly opening a home cooked tiffin while yearning for takeaway Chinese!
It alarms me that municipalities like Delhi and Mumbai have taken a hostile stance towards street vendors. There are plenty of ways they can ensure hygiene without taking these people off the streets. A couple of evocative articles by Prof. Sharit Bhowmik from Tata Institute of Social Sciences in Mumbai, tell a compelling tale of the relationship hawkers have to the city’s economy and make a case for nurturing street vending and providing it a conducive ecosystem.
Evictions and cleansing the streets reek of narrow-mindedness, complete apathy for the urban poor who make a living out of as well as subsist on buying from street vendors as well as a lack of sense of place, to which street vendors contribute in an immeasurable but significant manner. To me, it is critical that professionals and citizens alike talk about the kind of urbanism we aspire to. Without this sort of debate, we will continue to lose our identity to idiotic regulations, till we are left with a bland existence and even the memories of a fuller, finer life are erased.
Istanbul has been an important trading hub for centuries and its bazaars are an important aspect of its ecosystem. We walked through a wholesale market not unlike Delhi’s Chandni Chowk to get to the Spice Bazaar, or as the locals call it Misir Charsisi, referring to the historical trade with Egypt in spices. Akin to Khari Bowli, which is located at one end of Chandni Chowk, the Spice Bazaar sells an amazing assortment of condiments. We got educated about several varieties of saffron and the shopkeeper actually dissolved a few grains of the fiest Iranian saffron in water to show us how magically the colour seeps out compared to Turkish and Spanish saffron, which are considered inferior. Indian Saffron, to my amusement, was not saffron at all in this market, but a name used to refer to haldi, or turmeric!
The Spice Bazaar, the Grand Bazaar as well as some other smaller little markets on the way are indoor bazaars that pulsate with activity inside beautiful living Ottoman structures, replete with details in paint and tilework, period light fixtures and much more. Well ventilated, the bazaars do not feel claustrophobic and an entire industry of cafes, food stalls and nargili (hooka) places thrive inside.
We ended up buying some ceramic work and were lucky to find English speaking locals who helped us find a good price and refer the right shops. Carpet and kilim traders were out to get us (in a gracious nice way, none of the pushing and shoving type of touting here!), but we escaped them after a short session of looking at some gorgeous old used Armenian and tribal kilims that had been brought in from the villages for restoration! Did not seem polite to photograph those, but they were similar to the durries we get in India, but with richer colors.
Advice to visitors here. Haggling is fine! We saw some kids for India doing it desi style and it worked pretty well!Find out prices from at least 3-4 shops if you want to buy ceramics, carpets or anything substantial price wise.