Pakistanis encounter Mumbai women

For Pakistanis new to this city, Mumbai = Marathi = Shiv Sena.

It was with some wariness therefore, that some exhibitors made their first large-scale foray into trade with the commercial capital of the country at the ‘Made in Pakistan’ exhibition held last week.

Especially since the last time something similar was held, by small and medium scale women entrepreneurs 14 years ago, it was disrupted by Shiv Sainiks. This time too, the Sena demonstrated — but outside the World Trade Centre, and the matter was quickly resolved by the Indian hosts, the FICCI (Federation of Indian Chambers of Commerce and Industry) which jointly organised the exhibition with its Pakistani counterpart, the FPCCI.

However, Mumbai’s women beat the Sena hands down. They came out of curiosity and stayed to “buy more than any retailer”, to quote one exhibitor. Within five minutes of seeing the prices of the fabrics (Rs 600-7,000), they’d phone their sisters and sisters-in-law, and buy for them. Unable to swipe credit cards, they’d go back and return with cash.

This splurge alas, wasn’t unalloyed. Unlike Delhi women, Mumbai’s would inspect a minimum of eight pieces before settling for one. And they’d bargain. International brands meant nothing to them; they simply compared the prices at every stall. Weary already with Customs’ refusal to release their goods on time, resulting in empty stalls through the first weekend, and then heavy rain playing spoilsport, the Pakistanis gave in.

The Customs-Sena-rain combination made some exhibitors vow never to return to Mumbai. But others were raring to come back, wiser from this experience. They’d make sure next time to send their goods much in advance. Two other interesting lessons had been learnt : 1) Contrary to expectations, Mumbai’s women, like Delhi’s, bought only L and XL sizes; the S and M sizes remained unsold. 2) Mumbai’s tastes were far more Westernised.

Indeed, one exhibitor was pained at where this city was headed. The way Mumbai’s girls sat on Marine Drive till late, roamed around with boys and the clothes they wore… How did parents allow all this? And why wasn’t the government intervening? he asked. Back home, only Islamabad’s elite would dress so, but they travelled in private vehicles. “Theek hai, hum Pakistan hain, aap Bharat hain, magar hain to ek hi mulk – Hindustan. In just 60 years, how did we become so different?”

Delhi with its “Punjabiyat” felt like home to most of the exhibitors, a majority of whom were from Faisalabad, Punjab. But some admitted that Mumbai’s women had overwhelmed them. Not only had they invited them home (“We had thought Mumbaikars would be narrow-minded being Marathi [read Shiv Sainik]”), but the shoppers had even dismissed the Sena’s opposition as “all politics”.  “Like you, we also have our insects,” shrugged one, referring to Pakistani politicians and mullahs.

Those who wanted to return to this city’s “humungous” market hoped that the two governments eased trade. Visas often took up to three months, and only smugglers profited, they said, adding that free trade between the two neighbours could wipe out Chinese goods. Not just Delhi and Mumbai, a huge market for Pakistani textiles exists in other cities too, especially Aurangabad, Lucknow, Surat and Ahmedabad, said one exhibitor who visits these cities often.

Business with Modi’s Gujarat? An exhibitor whose family hails from Delhi, revealed that when he was in Surat four years ago, more than 75 businessmen met him and every one of them wanted to host him.

“All of them were non-Muslims. One can live without religion, but not without money.”