The very vexing art of stealing a good deal at Chor Bazaar
Most of my friends are Chor Bazaaroholics, swearing that they have found the bargains of their lifetimes there: rosewood furniture, ancient reading lamps and silver bric-a-brac. So, I must be in a minority one. Every trip to the flea market, close to the Bhendi Bazaar stretch, has left me underwhelmed. Or maybe I just haven’t mastered the fine art of bargaining with the elderly shopkeepers.
Furniture shops — displaying unpolished and obviously freshly-made sofas, tables, chairs, the works — dominate the opening of the bazaar, which is believed to be a thieves’ market. Seems that’s a misconception. It was the “Shor” Bazaar actually (named for its ear-blasting noise levels) but the British Raj sahibs pronounced it as “Chor” and the name stuck. Another apocryphal story claims that a set of violins belonging to Queen Victoria had somehow landed up in the bazaar and was literally sold off for a song.
Today, the bazaar does offer wondrous antiques, Bollywood memorabilia and limited prints by master artists. A Ming vase taller than a tree, however, didn’t quite seem to be the genuine article. A poster of the Dilip Kumar-Noor Jehan film, Jugnu, wasn’t original either. And a set of prints of M.F. Husain’s horses was a clear giveaway — too xeroxed to be true. I did pick up some stills, though, from the vintage comedy Ram aur Shyam but paid through my nose for them.
Perhaps it’s just me. The late Jennifer Kendall would often extoll the pleasures of shopping in Chor Bazaar, pointing at some objects d’art, which occupied a pride of place in her tastefully-appointment apartment on Harkness Road. Fashion guru James Ferreira, to date, maintains that one can come away with priceless porcelain and brassworks from the market. Conclusion: I just don’t have a talent for spotting the rarities, which is why I’ve never won a treasure hunt in my entire life...so far.
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