JOSEPH GOEBBELS NEVER VISITED KERALA

 

Foreign travel is meant to acquaint visitors with a country's culture, art, and people. It liberates us from being a Kupa Mandukam—or a frog in the well.  Shopping has somehow emerged as an integral part of foreign travel. Shopaholics, memento hunters and memorabilia gatherers have the time of their lives exploring markets. Retired and living in an empty nest full of stuff, Anniey and I had decided not to buy anything on the Vietnam-Cambodia trip.

 

“The next stop will be the Central Market. We will stop for an hour,” Ms Hong, our guide, announced.

 

“Do they bargain?” someone in the group asked.

 

“There are fixed-price shops as well as shops that bargain,” Ms Hong replied.

 

“How do we know which one?” 

 

“Look at the display board. The board says fixed price, no bargain. No board, bargain,” Ms Hong said with her characteristic smile.

 

“Interesting,” I told my wife. “How I wish people were so truthful.” She, as always, smiled. 

 

“Those of us who want to take the bus to the hotel, remember, please come to Gate Number 13. We will consider those who do not reach the bus in time to be staying back for shopping. They can reach the hotel on their own,” Mr Jeeson, our tour manager, added.

 

It was raining when we got off the bus at the Central Market, or officially, the Ben Thanh Market. “Ben” means wharf and “Thanh” means fortress. The market's original location is said to have been near the Saigon River. Though not the geographical centre of the city, the name seems to have stuck because it is central to the city’s soul. History and geography aside, the market is now a popular shopping destination and a well-known landmark of Ho Chi Minh City.

 

Everyone got out. Many among us had already decided and walked into the market purposefully. “Let us walk around the market,” I said. Anniey agreed.

 

We strolled into the market and took a left turn. The shops, all manned by women, were contiguous and had no walls. There, above each space, hung a board: “Fixed Price.”

 

“Kuttus, please, can we buy a shirt for you?” Anniey asked.

 

“No, da. We decided we won't buy anything.”

 

“That is okay. But you always wanted to have a shirt from Vietnam.” Ladies never forget what their men say. In HR terms, it is recorded, stored, and recalled for training and assessment purposes. She was referring to a discussion we had when we visited our younger daughter. Her father-in-law, Colonel MM Easow, had a collection of such shirts. The Colonel was always well-dressed and carried himself with elegance, no matter what he wore. On the other hand, I am mostly dressed casually. At times, Anniey has to remind me to dress appropriately.

 

Our husband-wife discussion (our kids call it an argument) ends with her having the last word. Anniey is soft-spoken and comes up with logic, and when I don't fall for it, she cajoles me into accepting her point. This time, the topic of discussion- okay, argument- was about buying a shirt for me. 

 

“Just one shirt,” she said.

 

“Mom, the shirts already in the wardrobe don't even get a chance to be worn.” I resisted more than usual. I also wanted to look unselfish. 

 

“Please,” she said, and before I could say anything, she picked up a shirt, turned to the lady and asked, “How much is it?” 

 

“15 dollars,” the shopkeeper replied, in the musical tone typical of the place.

 

“Mom, it is too much. Leave it.” I did some quick conversion.

 

“How much will you give it for?” Anniey asked.

 

“How could she miss that board?” I looked at my wife and pointed to the “fixed-price” board hanging right above our heads. 

“No bargaining,” the lady said, pointing to the board above.

 

“Oh, we wanted three or four for him. We will look elsewhere,” Anniey replied.  But I did not see my wife move or give any indication she was about to leave.

 

“Let's go, Mom. I told you, I don't want any.”

 

“We will take three for 15,” Anniey said.

 

That was a ludicrous yet audacious move. I have heard of people quoting at half to start with. This was a cut straight to one-third! 

 

“Kuttu, have you gone crazy? Let's get out before they beat us up,” I said in Malayalam. My wife stood as if she did not hear me. I am hard of hearing, and she is not. When she wants to, she can turn blind, deaf, or both.

 

By the time we left, we had three shirts for $20. That was a good bargain. We walked around till it was time for the bus. Once inside the bus, there was an animated discussion in the group on how good a deal each one had fetched. In the beginning, everyone seemed pleased as punch. But soon people realised that a few had given more. That made us secretly proud of our deal. Soon we learned that a few had given less. That made many members uncomfortable. Expressions changed. Those who paid less for similar stuff looked happier, and the others were busy finding reasons to justify why theirs were a bit more expensive.

 

“When we bargain, there is an inbuilt sense of inadequacy. There is always a sense of lost profits,” I said, once we got to the room. 

 

“How?”

 

“Maybe, if only we had bargained a little harder! It is like the sad silver medallist. One push, the gold would have been his. You know, the gold winner will be happy, but the bronze winner would be the happiest, just being at the podium.”  Happiness is always contextual.

 

“Maybe you are right,” she replied.

 

We left Vietnam and reached Cambodia after two days.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will be stopping next at the Russian market,” said Ms Neel, our guide in Phnom Penh.

 

The Russian Market has nothing Russian about it. Back in the 1980s, Cambodia had close ties with the Soviet Union, and the place was teeming with Russians on different assignments. They patronised the Phsar Tuol Tom Poung, giving it the name. Now everyone calls it the Russian market. It is packed from end to end with everything that you can think of.

 

Since we had to disembark from the bus, we decided to explore the market after promising each other that we would not be buying anything. Walking around the market, Anniey stopped in front of a shop selling cashew nuts.

 

“What is the cost?” she asked.

 

“$20 a kilo,” the lady said. The bargaining ended at $6 a kilo. That was a huge fall from where it started.

 

“Do you actually need the cashew? Two packets lying at home are still sealed. At $6 a kilo, it is some poor-quality stuff,” I said in Malayalam.  Anniey did not reply.

 

“Can I taste one piece?” she asked the lady. That straw broke the camel's back. 

 

“No, I am not selling,” the shopkeeper replied. We walked away. 

 

“It would have been ours at $6.”

 

“Then why didn't you buy?”

 

“We could have. At $6, she certainly had a margin. I was about to buy, but she became angry and cut off the deal. I did not like the way she spoke. I was polite, and she wasn’t.”

 

The next day we visited Angkor Wat. The hot and humid conditions wore us down. By the time we reached the Bayon Temple, we were all tired. As we alighted from the coach, we were mobbed by ladies selling shirts, skirts, and souvenirs. A lady with shirts approached me. Anniey had gone to the restroom.

 

“Sir, $12 only,” she said, showing me a shirt. “Please take one. You take two, I give a discount. $20 for 2.” I showed no interest, but the lady would not leave. I already had a benchmark. “Below $6 Ok and above $7, loss.”

 

She persisted, “$18 for 2.” That was $9 apiece.

 

“$10 for 2,” I said.  I felt guilty within. At best, she would make a dollar a piece, walking in the sun and hawking. By this time Anniey joined me, and I told her my quote. The hawker gave the two shirts to Anniey and said, “Madam, $12 for 2, final price.” 

 

Anniey took the two and gave $10. The lady asked for one more dollar. Anniey refused. The hawker returned the 10-dollar bill, took the shirts and walked away. Anniey stood as if nothing happened. But then, the lady came back and closed the deal at $10 for 2.

 

A few days later, we were back home in Kerala, sitting to recollect events of the trip, and enjoying my evening whisky.

 

“Did you notice the similarities between bargaining and life?” I asked.

 

“How?”

 

“The whole thing revolves around four things. The absolute value of something, the price we are willing to pay, the price the other person demands to part with it and the art of negotiation. Bargaining is not simply about money; it is about expectations, perceived value, concessions, and the limits each party is willing to accept.”

 

“Hmm.” 

 

When the shopkeeper quotes a price for something, he knows that we will not take him at face value. He is only luring us to negotiate. If you noticed, they don't go to everyone. They pick out people who they think would buy. It is exactly like a pride hunting a herd. Target selection is important. In life, it is about selecting the intended outcome. It is also about deciding if we want to connect with the person in front. Is the person worth our attention? 

 

The hawker is merely extending a bridge to start the communication. When we make a counteroffer or even call his offer unreasonable, the negotiation has begun. If both the parties are not civil enough, the conversation can become aggressive and at times distasteful. It is better to keep the conversation friendly than try to emerge victorious. 

 

“One should know when to call it quits.” I saw Anniey smile.

 

“Are you referring to the Russian market?” Anniey asked. It was my turn to smile.

 

When we communicate with others, whoever it may be, whatever the relationship, soft and dignified communication is the key to success. Unfortunately, many people think speaking aloud, or aggressively, can put them in better positions. A deal is not only about profit and loss. Some, despite the gains, may not be worth pursuing.

 

When a hawker quotes a price, he knows he is setting the outer limit of the value of the stuff he is trying to sell. He sets it up really high to allow it to settle above his expected price. He is also unknowingly working on two specific psychological issues. He makes us feel rich enough to pay that much. The naïve fall for it. We don't realise it. He also knows that the price will only flow south from there. The buyer will take it below what he thinks is the value of the item. If the negotiation ends in a “buy”, he would normally make a profit, and we would carry with us the feeling that we secured a good deal. Shopkeepers may not part with their stuff incurring a loss. If someone is parting with an item like that, there has to be other considerations. Bargain sales are normally win-wins; cash for the seller and happiness for the buyer.

 

“But, how does this finding apply to human relationships?” she asked.

 

We cannot transcribe this transaction exactly into human relationships. In interpersonal relationships, we assign some sort of importance to the other person. It is done unconsciously because we are conditioned to do so. It could be any relationship. The interesting part is what each party thinks about where they are placed. In unequal relations, one party tends to assume a higher pedestal than the other, and the other party seems to accept it. It generally ends up being abusive.

 

To keep the relationship going, we readily make concessions even when the other party may not be playing up. It is just like a stubborn hawker or buyer getting fixed at a price and saying, " If you want it, pay this price” or " I can give you only so much; sell if you want.”

 

When either party takes a non-negotiable stance, the relation flounders. If both parties are willing to make concessions, the transaction becomes a give-and-take, and in most cases, it evolves into a win-win situation, because both feel that they have got a winning hand.

 

“What happens if it doesn't work that way?”

 

“If one person is unwilling to change or adjust, then it is better that the other party be prepared to walk away and call it off. I know it may not be in line with what we have been taught^.  But I feel dumping the burden is better than living in continuous hell.”

 

“What if one person in the relationship continues to make unreasonable demands?” 

 

“It means that one or both do not know when or where to stop. If we know when to let go, relationships can be healthy and mutually respectful.”

 

“Do you remember that you bargained in a shop where they had a board hanging which loudly proclaimed that it was a fixed-price shop?”

 

“So?”

 

“Good. It was a fixed-price shop, yet she bargained. People say something and mean something else. They may have a public face but hold a different intent. If they value us, they will come around. If we value them enough to tolerate their demands, we may have to come around. When we don't value something enough for the troubles we take, it is better to step back. A good bargain arrives at a mutually acceptable price, and a good relationship involves respecting the other person's worth.”

 

“Three Places, Three Experiences, and a Lesson in the Art of Getting a Good Deal,” I said.

 

She laughed. The whisky tasted even better. 

“That was a good bargain,” she said.

 

“Yes; for my readers, it should be a weekend bargain?”

 

“How?”

 

“History, geography, a few lessons in negotiations and life. Is it not a good weekend bargain?”

 

---

Thanks to Mrs Shaila Prabhu, the quintessential banker in our group who remembers everyone's names effortlessly, for having helped me with the names of both the guides and the markets. The picture is also from her 

We have been calling each other Kuttus since Feb 1986, when we got married.

Once the kids grew and Mom became the word at home, I call her Mom when I need her to listen to me.