The rains had come to a standstill. And I did not like it when it did not rain in the monsoon season. 

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As I sat thinking how to spend the rest of the slightly humid evening, there was a knock on the door. I opened it and there she stood dressed in pink. 

“What’s with the pink today?” I asked. 

“Oh, I felt like wearing these hot pink juttis I bought last week and so had to colour co-ordinate the rest,” pat came her reply. 

“But the bindi on your forehead is black?” 

“Don’t be stupid V,” she replied. “You know na I don’t like pink bindis. They look too gaudy.” 

“Oh yes,” I replied, trying to pretend that I remembered. 

“You know, I wanted to thank you for explaining the concept of anchoring when we met the last time around.” 

“Did your father finally agree to sell his flat and move in with you?” 

“Nope. You cannot separate an old man from his real estate. Sometimes I feel he just enjoys the entire process that comes with trying to sell a flat. Gives some meaning to his dull and dreary life.” 

“So what happened then?”

“I broke a pair of specs yesterday.” 

“And you ordered a new pair online?” I interrupted. 

“No. I like to touch and feel things before I buy them.” 

“So what happened?” I asked, ignoring her jibe. 

“This guy showed me a pair of specs priced at Rs 10,000.”

“Oh.” 

“And gradually showed me frames of prices of up to Rs 5,000.” 

“Ah, very interesting.” 

“And I immediately realised, what he was trying to do.” 

“What was he trying to do?” I asked.

“He was trying to anchor a sale.”

“As in?” 

“By showing me specs worth Rs 10,000 he had me anchored on to a high price.” 

“And then?” 

“And then he showed me frames with lower prices going up to Rs 5,000.”

“What was the idea there?”

“He already had me anchored at a high price of Rs 10,000 and hence, the hope was that I would find a pair of specs priced at Rs 5,000, much cheaper, and immediately buy it.”

“Ah you seem to have been studying economics,” I said trying to be sarcastic. 

“Actually, I have been. I picked up this very interesting book last week called A Mathematician Plays the Stock Market. In this book, the author, John Allen Paulos, defines anchoring as: “Most of us suffer from a common psychological failing. We credit and easily become attached to any number we hear. This tendency is called “anchoring effect.””

“Interesting book.” 

“Actually, I have also been reading this other book titled The Paradox of Choice authored by Barry Scwartz.”

“And what does it say?” 

“It talks about extremely expensive watches and the fact that on their own they may not sell much, but that doesn’t mean that they are useless.” 

“Care to elaborate?” 

“Let me read out the relevant portion from the book,” she said, meanwhile reaching out for her purse. 

“Sure.” 

“Here we go. As Scwartz writes: “When a wristwatch that is no more accurate than the one you can buy for $50 sells for $20,000, it seems reasonable to buy one for $2,000. Even if companies sell almost none of their highest-priced models, they can reap enormous benefits from producing such models because they help induce people to buy their cheaper (but still extremely expensive) ones.” 

“Very interesting.”

“Now that we are finished discussing anchoring, let’s go out for dinner. I feel like eating some pasta today.”

“Your treat?” 

“My treat. Anyway, I saved Rs 2,500 today.” 

“How?”

“Oh. The pair of specs I finally bought cost Rs 2,500.” 

“So?” I asked. 

“I really wanted to buy the one priced at Rs 5,000.” 

“So?” I asked again, failing to get the logic. 

“So, I saved Rs 2,500,” she replied. 

And she thought, she hadn’t been anchored. But that bit of understanding, I kept to myself. I was already looking forward to her paying for the Italian meal. Economics could wait. 

(The example is hypothetical) 

(Vivek Kaul is the author of the Easy Money trilogy.)