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Journalism of Courage
Dharminder Singh Anand is the Flying Sikh the merely rich worship. The jet-lagged Anand is a personal shopper for the mass of shining, new Indians, the GKNY (Greater Kailash, New York) set, who flies out to London every week with a list of goodies they cannot do without—from the latest Prada handbag to M&S Chicken Tikka Sandwiches.
Call it post-liberalisation neurosis but the Chaddas and Dumras, from Delhi to Ludhiana, are desperate to keep ahead of the competition as more and more arrivistes snap at their Gucci heels. After all, even the behenji from backstreet can now have her Vaishno Burger and pizzas are as common as kulchas.
So, the affable, smiling Dharminderji was a gift from the gods when he was discovered, and the deluge is overwhelming. Sitting in his basement shop in GK’s main market, the industrious and enterprising Flying Sardar (FS) gleams in front of rows of lotions, potions, creams and endless M&S lacy lingerie. ‘‘I now have a personal client list of 1,600 people apart from the dozens of walk-in customers,’’ he says proudly. His list includes politicians to ambitious housewives, society goddesses to fashion victims. ‘‘Arre, I am not bothered who they are,’’ he replies with exaggerated candour, when asked who his clients are. ‘‘You name them, they are on the list.’’
The FS Formula is straightforward—he flies out every Sunday evening (only British Airways) with the shopping lists, stays in his flat in Southall, returns three days later, gives you a bill and charges a flat Rs 99 for every sterling pound spent. ‘‘Where is the problem, ji?’’ he asks incredulously, as he tosses around catalogues from Indi-popular stores like M&S, Next, Mothercare, Christian Dior and Victoria’s Secret.
‘‘You get the season’s best for only an extra Rs 15 per pound. Download any product from your computer and I will get it for you. Do you know how much a taxi costs from Kensington to Marble Arch?’’ His popularity soars as the fashion season peaks and orders range wildly from perambulators to bikinis, low-fat chips to organic Brie, baby nappies to diamond-crusted watches.
How does he compete with M&S and Louis Vuitton, both have stores in this country? He offers some fuzzy logic when he says conspiratorially, ‘‘My goods still come cheap because they have priced it higher here. And, do these stores stock everything and also the latest here? I started this business in the ’80s, but I have never seen such booming demand as in the last few years. Aaj kal, more people have more money, there is more awareness as so many travel and they want all these things all the time. ’’
While the shop girls at M&S and Mothercare on Oxford Street may not flinch as he staggers out with bags stuffed with bras and nappies, the achingly trendy assistants at Prada have blanched as the Sardar bellows into his mobile, ‘‘Madamji, the pearl grey Prada bag is not available but will the taupe do?’’ It is part of the job, he shrugs.
Neena Dumra and her teenage daughter Naina have come from Ludhiana. ‘‘Where are the bedsheets I asked from Selfridges?’’ wails Dumra while her daughter stamps her feet as the Gucci catalogue has gone to a client’s house. Anand calms them saying the stuff will perhaps take only another week and the duo leave relieved — with a Mac lipstick and a Ralph Lauren cologne.
Sandeep Khanna of Friend’s Colony believes in retail therapy for his broken back after endless hours on the treadmill. He has downloaded the season’s new four shirts from River Island and gives it to Anand. ‘‘Get it as soon as you can,’’ he waves to Anand, who is now busy turning pages on his computer which is neatly coded according to size, colour, style for regular orders.
How does he evade the keen eye of Customs at the airport? ‘‘I have an import licence like everyone else too,’’ he says with moral authority. ‘‘I also export huge containers and send stuff like Emami creams and masala powders. No hera-pheri here.’’
