What do a bunch of auditors do when stuck in Korba for the weekend? They decide to venture out of the client township and see what civilization has to offer. Thanks to our driver and the people around us we’ve zeroed in on one restaurant (after experiments with three) two drinking joints (both good), two shops selling pirated DVDs (they work) and a couple of movie theatres (one of which, I am told, is fairly well maintained). Now what do these guys do when they realize they’ve been here for weeks and have no souvenirs to show for it? They decide to go out, have a few drinks and lament the fact that there really isn’t anything worth picking up other than coal and bauxite. But since we’re all responsible guys and auditors to boot, we do the legwork; ask around for spots from where we can get souvenirs and end up with suggestions for Kosa Silk, the 'world famous' variety of silk that’s manufactured and sold at Chhoori - a place that's about an hour’s drive from Korba.

That was bad news because a.) We were looking forward to that drink b.) It involved shopping for silk.

Anyone who at some point of his life has had to endure the pains of textile procurement with his mom/spouse has a pretty fair idea of what the average guy goes through in a garments shop. Suddenly time stops, somebody cuts off the air supply, there's colours and patterns all over the place, you’re extremely thirsty and your legs can’t support you. Pretty much like watching ‘Hum Aapke Hain Kaun’ in a movie theatre while being strangled with a purple scarf. Still, we figured it could be a relatively less unpleasant experience if you’re the one in charge of selection, procurement and accounts payable (as opposed to being in charge of none or only one of two of the above). It also meant we could be back in time for drinks and dinner and I guess all of us wanted to prove to people back home that we were capable of buying saris, shawls and dress materials without making complete fools of ourselves.

Turns out Chhoori is a place where the highway eventually gives way to a line of clothes shops, a wine-shop and the local chemist. In spite of the name, there are no local daggers for sale there. Pity. I collect those.

 Picture seven guys, aged between twenty-five and thirty, marching into an empty shop (why go to the one that already has customers… that means extra waiting time) and ask for “good silk stuff”. The shopkeeper did a pretty good job of disguising his delight, seven novices meant huge margins. Within minutes he and his assistant ensured that there were heaps of colours and patterns to choose from. Price boundaries were blurred and very soon variables like folds, cuts, patterns, handlooms, powerlooms, embroidery ,falls and miscellaneous others I’m still clueless became a part of the equation. We did our best. Went through heaps of saris, factored in our individual budgets and tried to figure out why the ones we liked were cheaper than the ones that we didn’t like all that much, understood that the sarees with threads sticking out in the inside were more expensive because they were hand embroidered and different prints had different layers to it. K was impressive… when confronted with a particular sari to his liking, went with “Nineteen hundred for this? That’s what they charge in Delhi… how is this any better?” We looked at him with awe. That’s a line that reflected years of paying attention while shopping with his wife. That’s a line you can negotiate with.

 There was TV. ‘Hum Aapke Hain kaun’ was on.

 Somewhere along the line, our group decided that it wasn’t wise to restrict our purchases to one shop and half the group split up and moved to the next. That only made things worse, because each group felt the other half managed to get the same things for less. We started off thinking we were getting ripped off by one shop keeper, we ended up thinking we got ripped off by two.

 I handled myself pretty well I guess. Time didn’t quite stop and I was only moderately thirsty. When faced with this expensive navy blue sari with silver grey borders, I told the shopkeeper it had an air of familiarity. “This looks a lot like carbon paper. Who’d want something that looks like something so mundane?”

“Are you buying this for yourself?” was his reply. I bought the green one for my mom. That showed him.

 Lessons learnt:

1. When faced with multiple shops selling commodities that you have no idea about, choose the shop with air conditioning.

2. Don’t compare purchases till you’re home.

3. Don’t skip the drink you plan on having after the excursion. Compare purchases only after you’ve had a couple.

4. If you really need a good excuse for getting out of the place, ask him to show you some silk ties. Then walk out because he doesn’t stock any.

 At the end of the day, I ended up with a sari for someone who doesn’t really wear them anymore; dress materials for two - one for someone who hates receiving gifts and one for someone who’ll never wear it - and material for a silk kurta for someone who’s too busy to attend a fitting.

Man I could really use that dagger.