Despite there being very little to see, I had stuck around in Amritsar for an extra day, in order to catch up with some new friends who I’d met on the train – local engineering students Yash and Namit. Asking them where would be best to meet, they offered me a choice of the temple or the mall, and since I had already been to the former, I decided to see what this mall would be like (unfortunately, the third option I proposed, going out drinking, was ruled out by it being a Hindu holy day, with alcohol not allowed).
I had a quick look at a local map, and found a small shopping centre marked, named after Nehru, so I headed there. My phone’s battery then died, so I was stranded with a suspicion that I was in the wrong place, as this didn’t look at all like the building they had described. I borrowed a phone from some bemused guys hanging around on a motorbike, and found out that I was miles away from the out-of-town complex where I should have been. The two guys found it rather funny that I’d got so lost, but gave me some basic directions and wished me luck. As I set off, though, they called me back, and had a hurried conference with much gesticulation, pointing especially at me, and in the general direction of what I supposed was the mall. After 30 seconds or so, some sort of consensus was reached, and they told me to wait here. I nodded, and they drove off.
Five minutes later, just as I was beginning to think that they might be playing some sort of joke on me, they returned, and one hopped off the back of the bike, motioning to me to get on. This wasn’t what I’d expected, but I figured that a free ride would be better than paying for a taxi, and the experience would be quite fun anyway.
Fun was probably the wrong word though. The traffic in Amritsar was even worse than in Mumbai, and my driver (who appeared to be quite fashionable, with sunglasses even at night and slicked-back hair) saw this as an opportunity to show off his driving skills, weaving in and out of the variously-paced vehicles, bicycles and handcarts at great speed before having to brake hard for a red light. I had visions of ending my days in pieces under an auto-rickshaw. He turned to me with a big smile, and said “You like? Haha!” before zooming off again when he saw a gap (I saw none) in the crossing traffic, jumping the red in the process and dodging blindly in front of a bus.
At the next stop he shouted at a neighbouring driver and a motorcycle in front, then pointed at me on the back, evidently pleased to be carrying a Westerner as a passenger. I smiled back with an attempted bravery that wasn’t really there.
We soon reached the main raised highway, which cuts the town in half and is a pretty ugly eyesore, but at least the traffic was more open there. This meant that we could get up to full speed finally, but I had no problem with this – I’ve always enjoyed fast driving, and it was far preferable to reckless overtaking and sudden braking. A few minutes later he dropped me outside the mall, then took a photo of us both on his mobile. With a quick wave, and looking really pleased with himself, he roared off back into town.
So, unexpectedly having arrived at the mall in good time, I walked across the parking lot. At least I hadn’t kept Yash and Namit waiting too long. I spotted them in the glow of light by the entrance, and hurried up to greet them.
The mall was far more than I was expecting. It was a carbon copy of the many modern shopping mausoleums that litter the towns of England, and the suburbs of the American city sprawl. Even the brands were the same; the only difference was in the range of cuisines offered in the food court. I was impressed, even though I hardly felt that I was experiencing anything new. We browsed through a few designer label stores, with me making relatively uninformed comparisons between the prices here and in the UK. Clothes were generally cheaper, I believed, but shoes and watches were pretty much the same. I may well be wrong though, as I don’t do a lot of shopping back home.
We chatted over coffee, and I tried a couple of the local specialities picked for me (and paid for by) the two guys. They wouldn’t hear of me offering any money towards the meal, which, considering they are students themselves, was very touching. Their insistence that I was their guest only rang slightly true – after all, we were sitting in a brand-new expensive building made for rich Indians, not their home.
The music being played was a mix of mid-90s UK pop hits, which was nostalgic but hardly enjoyable. I found out that neither the Spice Girls nor the Vengaboys (yes, really) had improved with age into anything listenable. I’m glad we’ve managed to sweep much of that era under the carpet, hopefully to be forgotten forever!
Wandering around like mall-rats, then, we searched for something to do besides making security guards anxious when we approached the top-tier watches or jewellery. We came across an old-school amusement arcade on one of the upper floors. Several games of air hockey, Time Crisis and hoop-shooting (we top-scored!) later, we were laughing and joking around, trying to see what prize we could claim for our tokens. With anything good well out of reach of our haul, I eventually opted for a smiley-face stress-ball, and got both of the guys to sign it. After this, they had to get back though, so we parted on very good terms and headed separately back into town.
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