Look at those shiny glitzy billboards that beam with the 4 letter word that makes a girl's heart skip a beat. The magical letters namely A,E,L,S beautifully transition into the word SALE! And the bigger the 2 digit number that follows it, the more one's eyes gleam. But then another 4 letter word just ruins all the fun. "UPTO". It's written in such tiny font that after a point of time you start to wonder what is easier- reading the UPTO or attempting to see the craters on the surface of the moon.
But anyway, sales DO increase the footfall. You get to see families comprising of over-enthusiastic aunties, disinterested uncles and hyperactive kids who are ready to cry at the drop of a hat if Mummyji doesn't buy anything for them rather than lovey-dovey couples who will probably end up sharing a McAloo Tikki burger and spending so many hours at the mall, it seems they've been converted into mannequins.
So, it all starts with the "stringent" security checks right from the moment your vehicle enters the parking lot of the mall. The guard will dutifully use a mirror to check whether you've hidden an explosive underneath the car and ask you to open the boot in order to check for the same. It's perfectly alright if you decide to hide one inside the car. Our duty only includes definite checks and keeping in mind with our culture of doing only as much as is told, we need to do just that.
Then your explosive-free car manages to enter the parking lot with one guy and his assistant shoving parking tickets and ancient dilapidated currency notes to you that makes you want to give the poor note a good facial at the glam-sham saloon in the mall. This process takes barely about 30 seconds but that is enough to trigger the Uncleji who's come with his entire family's impatience which he makes very apparent with his incessant honking.
Now there is an endless queue for the elevator that will take you to the ground floor. It takes so long for the elevator to come that you start wondering whether your hair will turn white(and not grey) by the time you get to step inside the elevator. Eventually after a lot of jostling, you DO manage to get away from the stench of the basement and you phone comes back to life(read:network). And since you've braved the elevator, your bag gets rewarded. Yes, it doesn't get manhandled by the security guard at the entrance. Tip to bombers: you could carry bombs in your handbag but remember to take the elevator route. It never fails.
And before you can step on the skating rink like Italian marble floor, there comes this over enthusiastic 20 something girl who asks for 5 precious minutes of your time to complete a survey which can lead you to win an all expense paid trip to a random resort in a random remote part of the country. (conditions apply). There's also a man distributing pamphlets regarding a sale of the most useless things at the most useless store in the mall who will not budge from your path until you take that piece of paper from his hand. There is another person who's put treadmills and Osim massage chairs on the ground floor which turns out to be a hub of well fed menopausal Aunties with shopping carts and kids in tow.
Once you've managed to dodge these elements, you are free to take the escalator to the floor of your choice. If you're lucky you may come across people who believe that the escalator is a T-Rex's gut and will swallow them as soon as they step on it. For Chrissake, even the ghouls in Aahat are scarier.
At last you do reach the shop and you end up liking nothing besides that black tee without the over the top sequins. Your eyes gleam with joy. You reach out to the tee as if it's the very last relic of Michael Jackson. But alas, your joy is shortlived. You wanted size M but all the have is XS, S, L, XL,2L,XXL. So you ask one of the shop assistants to get you size M. Now they are beaming with joy at the prospect of some work because otherwise they don't really get to do anything besides flirting with each other which would tend to get monotonous after a while, isn't it? It doesn't end there , there's a long winding queue at the trial rooms. So after ageing by another 40 years, you do get your well deserved turn for an entry into the trial room. After checking whether it is a two way mirror or not and looking around for hidden cameras, you do realise that the tee is worth buying. Now there is another queue at the cash counter. And when your turn does come, the credit card invariably gets declined. Your heart skips a beat, 2 beats and so on with every passing second. And you regain your pulse, when the cashier tells you that it was just a temporary system failure and the payment has been confirmed. The tee is now yours so is the brand new plastic bag. No the malls aren't eco-friendly yet unless you consider the colour of the bag. :\
Ah so anyway, now you're too tired to stand in a queue for a drink at Mc Donald's and you decide to head back to the dingy basement. The appearance of the basement is inversely proportional to the way the mall looks by the way.
You head out. Only to realise that there is another queue waiting for you on the way back home. The queue is commonly known as a traffic jam.
