When Rs 10 feels expensive on a cart, but not in a cafe 

On a regular day in any Indian town or city, a familiar scene unfolds: a customer arguing with a roadside vegetable vendor over ₹5, insisting the price is too high for a kilo of tomatoes. Later that same evening, that same customer proudly pays ₹300 for popcorn in a multiplex — without a second thought. 

This double standard — of bargaining with those who toil the hardest while unquestioningly accepting inflated prices from corporatized retailers — is not just hypocritical. It is symptomatic of a deeper malaise: a crisis of empathy, a skewed perception of dignity, and an unconscious class prejudice.  

• The Two Indias: Divided by a Counter 

India’s economic landscape is a paradox. On one hand, we have glossy malls, lavish showrooms, and global franchises. On the other, the country’s informal economy — comprising small shopkeepers, roadside vendors, handcart pullers, and flea market sellers — forms the backbone of everyday urban life. 

Ironically, these informal workers are the ones most subjected to bargaining. And yet, they are the least capable of absorbing those losses. They lack the buffers of fixed salaries, marketing budgets, or scale advantages. Every rupee they earn is hard-won. 

• The Psychology Behind the Bargain 

This behavior isn’t just about saving money — it’s deeply psychological: 

1. Power Dynamics: People feel more in control when bargaining with the poor. The informal setting and lack of a corporate shield create a one-sided dynamic where the buyer feels dominant. 

2. Social Conditioning: There's a misplaced belief that small vendors overcharge. Yet, more often, they’re merely surviving. 

3. Fear of Judgment in Elite Spaces: In malls, customers don’t bargain for fear of looking “cheap” or “uncultured.” Bargaining is seen as something people do only in unbranded, unregulated settings. 

4. Perceived Legitimacy: Malls feel “official” with price tags and bills, while vendors are seen as “informal” and therefore negotiable — as if the lack of a barcode invalidates their pricing. 

• Economic Injustice in Disguise 

The cruel irony is that those who need money the most are pushed the hardest to reduce their prices.The profit margin of a small vendor might lie in the very ₹10 the customer is trying to shave off. When a buyer insists, the vendor often yields — not because it’s fair, but because they need the sale to eat that night. 

By contrast, branded stores overprice with impunity. A shirt costing ₹300 to manufacture sells for ₹2,000 with ease — and we gladly pay it because the brand sells us an illusion of value. 

• Emotional Distance vs. Human Connection 

When you walk into a mall, you interact with a logo, a brand name, a rehearsed script. The transaction is cold, efficient, and detached. 

But when you buy from a small vendor — a fruit seller, a street bookseller, a chaiwala — you engage with a human being. There is often a conversation, a smile, even a story. That human connection should evoke empathy, not exploitation. 

Unfortunately, the exact opposite happens. The anonymity of malls gives them prestige. The familiarity of small vendors makes them vulnerable. 

• Bargaining as Habit vs. Bargaining as Harm 

Bargaining is part of our cultural DNA — a game, a ritual, an expected back-and-forth. But what was once an art of mutual negotiation has, over time, turned into economic bullying. 

We rarely stop to consider who we’re bargaining with. When we haggle with someone surviving on razor-thin margins, it becomes less about being “smart” and more about being insensitive. 

A ₹10 discount may mean very little to the buyer — but could be the difference between dinner and hunger for the seller. 

• The Myth of Value 

People wrongly associate higher price with better value. But the truth is — many local sellers offer goods that are fresher, more handmade, or more sustainable than anything in a mall. 

Your local sabziwala likely gets vegetables hours after they leave the farm. The big supermarket stores may sell the same produce three days later — wrapped in plastic, stored in cold chains — but marked up at twice the price. 

So the next time you hesitate to pay the quoted price at a roadside stall, ask yourself: Are you really protecting your budget, or just protecting your ego? 

• What Can We Do? 

This isn't just about awareness — it’s about daily decisions: 

• Pay Fairly: If the price seems reasonable, don’t negotiate — especially for food, essentials, or handmade goods. 

• Tip Generously: That extra ₹10 may not matter to you but can mean a lot to the seller. 

• Shop Local: Support artisans, handloom sellers, local grocers. Let’s not let malls replace culture. 

• Question the Real Cost: Don’t be afraid to ask — how much am I paying for the product, and how much for the branding? 

• Lead by Example: Refuse to haggle with small vendors and encourage others to do the same. It begins with one. 

• Dignity Is Not a Luxury 

Our behavior in the marketplace is a mirror of our morality. 
When we respect the time, labor, and honesty of those who sell to survive, we honor their dignity. 
When we choose not to bargain with the poor but praise overpriced malls, we reveal our own misplaced priorities. 

So next time you’re tempted to ask a street vendor for a ₹10 discount, pause and reflect: 
Would I do this in a mall? 
If not — then why now? 

In a time where inequality grows silently, our smallest decisions speak the loudest. 
Let us carry forward this message: 

“Bargain with brands, not with the breadwinners.” 
“Price tags should not define how we treat people — humanity should.” 

The writer can be contacted at shahidhakla360@gmail.com