Shopping. I hate it. I love it. There are few places as spacious and as pretty as the Inorbit Mall in Malad West. So quite naturally, when Mom & Dad are going on a 45 day tour down under, thats where we head. Dad was really excited about Mom's shopping all along, and he seemed to want to rekindle their romance so he succeded in pursuading her to buy trousers and shirts / tops that she has not worn in the last few decades. The result: In comes Shweta, a cousin who is a regular at wearing such clothes to help Mom shop. Render useless me & dad.

We parted our ways and the younger generation helped the older shop well and choose from the myriad of items displayed so attractively that quality and utility are the last factors affecting your choice. After a few thousand rupees spent in a matter of hours, we head up for a quick bite at food court. Four large Bhature, two chole, Tandoor chicken with puri & rice combo and four chicken/egg frankies later, (ah......... don't forget the ice cream even if I did not feast on it) we head to the alterations counters. It took us just under five hours in relative comfort to finish off a job that would have taken at least four days sans the newly found mall culture.

On our way home I tried forgetting the false dumping ground that Raheja created on the site of Inorbit roughly a decade ago. I tried forgetting the hundred odd huts that were scooped up and thrown into another dumping ground when the construction of Inorbit began. Tried forgetting the dirt cheap long term lease rate (for those with a little enlightenment here, its only Re.1/- p.s.ft.p.m.). But what stayed with me is something like this: If I think I am a thinking man that is to say that I think just a touch more than people who can think but don't, and still I think nothing while acting against my conscience, then the people who choose not to think ever, let alone those who can't think at all, must be real real sheep and goats being herded in the malls by Raheja & Co. not to mention Reliance.

n.b. I still hate the guts of that watchman who held my hand and pushed me out just to make me finish my mint before entering the mall. I always will. I will not think that he's only a man paid to do exactly that job. Because my anger is not against Raheja who showers upong me a wonderful shopping paradize.