When shopping for headphones turns into impulse TV buying
Iam not a compulsive shopper. But living in Dubai, it’s hard to not succumb to retail therapy once in a while, especially after a gruelling day at work or an argument with the partner. The year-long discounts at my favourite stores don’t help. One rare days when I go berserk shopping and my credit card aches after several sessions at the tills, I come back home feeling like I have conquered the world, my new possessions in tow. The novelty of those purchases wear off after a few compliments from work mates and a couple of posts on social media. The asset in question gets relegated to the inner recesses of my wardrobe, not meant to see the light of day for a few weeks. And the struggle continues: what to wear to work or to the next party?
Impulse purchases make me introspect and recall my childhood when choices were limited. Growing up, like other children in that era, I didn’t have much sway over what clothes I wore. This changed of course, once I hit the terrible teens. But looking back, I remember my father upcycling my mother’s and my clothes into psychedelic curtains, sofa covers and throws. He had no qualms about wearing hand-me-downs after my brother outgrew his clothes. Today, I make frequent trips to the recycle bin in the neighbourhood to dump unwanted and sometimes unworn clothes, and still my wardrobe bursts at the seams. Clearly, I haven’t inherited my father’s frugal nature.
Which makes me think, is my generation more wasteful and consumeristic? Or, as my parents tell me, do we not value money as their generation did? I can’t help but agree. Several instances come to mind. With incomes going up exponentially, so does our spending power — a lame excuse to bail out my generation.
Happiness is derived from fleeting moments today. For instance, a sweet craving can be quickly fixed by ordering cheesecake at the swipe of your smart phone. Back in the day, I remember eagerly waiting for weekly visits by a man who supplied traditional Indian sweets. With no mobile phones around, his absence meant he was unwell, and our cravings would go up a few notches until the following week. But the joy on hearing the doorbell ring during sultry summer afternoons, and then to see him fish out delectable sweets from his steel container — it was a joy that knew no bounds. The sweets had a long shelf life and we savoured them for days.
Contrast it with today, when anger and hunger are directly proportional to the punctuality of the delivery boy. As soon as he arrives, the food is gobbled. The taste lingers for just a few minutes.
Earlier, big-ticket items were a luxury. My family made do with the same television set, landline, phone, camera, washing machine and other electronics for years. Buying was a privilege only a few could afford. We valued purchases more and wore them out well. We were made to wait until the family saved up to be able to afford the next product.
Today, with banks willing to expand their loan books and with the prevalence of credit cards, people upgrade to swanky electronics at the drop of a hat. A case in point was my recent mall outing when all I intended to buy was a set of headphones to keep me entertained during my morning walks. Instead, I bought a 44-inch smart TV when I realised how affordable and convenient the payment options were. Not that I regret the buy, but it further cemented the yawning gap in spending patterns today and in the ‘good old days’.
During my childhood, holidays too were treasured and meticulously planned. An annual drive to hill stations in south India, circumnavigating the umpteen hairpin bends, spotting sighting monkeys and rivulets en route. The journey and the destination were both joyful. I never recall having an itinerary — it was blissful to just wake up in a cottage, dig into mom’s breakfast and trek through nature trails. That was also the only time my brother and I behaved, without squabbling. Even if you missed seeing a famed tourist spot, you were okay, knowing a repeat visit would be made the following year.
Cut to today, when holiday plans are impromptu and itineraries are hectic — to not miss out attractions. Who knows, you may never visit the country again after ticking it off your bucket list. Also, the journey — most often in a cramped airline — isn’t half as fun, spent bingewatching movies and catching up on sleep.
Yes, adulting is a mixed bag — the responsibilities are onerous while the pay is good. But given a choice, I would get onboard a time machine and get back to those days in a heartbeat, just to make a few more enduring memories.