Yes, we Khan: Delhi’s premium market comes to terms with all-new reality

NEW DELHI: Once a small refugee market of homes and shops, Khan market has transformed, with economic liberalisation, into one of the most expensive commercial addresses in the world. Surrounded by the homes of politicians, civil servants and industrialists, its pavements are a promenade for the who's who in Delhi.
But after 70 days of lockdown, the market is a pale ghost of its former self.The shops are open, but only a few shoppers flit around, solemn behind their masks. “Nobody from out of town, nobody who lives further away come now,” says Sanjay Tyagi of Dayal Opticals.
No luxury sunglasses or spectacles are being sold, but people do come to fix their broken glasses, get lenses and so on. For a few months at least, people will be wary of spending, saste mein hi kaam chala lenge, that’s the psychology now, smiles Tyagi. Anwar Siddiqui, who is at the shop, adds, “Right now, it’s not about profit, it’s just about survival.”
And yet, fear about the coronavirus is secondary to livelihood. The head constable at the police chowki had tested positive for Covid-19, but many aren’t deterred by this. Surinder Mehta, who has run his electronics shop here for four decades, says, “Everything was dead in the first 50 days of the lockdown, but sales are picking up. We have sold ACs and home appliances and a lot of hair trimmers.” He owns his shop space, so doesn’t have to worry about rent.
International brands will also bite the bullet because they want to remain in this premium location, notes Mehta. At L’Occitane, a salesperson says, “We make about 20 bills a day now. There are fewer people who come, but those who come always buy something.” The global skincare brand lets in only two people at a time. At Good Earth, which sells expensive clothes, gifts and homeware, the salesperson discloses, “There is no browsing any more —people come with the intention of buying something. In one hour, though, barely 10 people arrive against a few hundred before the lockdown.”
While restaurants are in definite trouble, they are soldiering on. The Big Chill is busy with takeaway orders, dousing its packages with a sanitiser-spritzing machine. A young man shows up for a Mississippi mud pie, but it’s not available. “We’re not really shopping, only here to pick up essentials,” says a woman. Perch, which was a trendy bar frequented by young politicians, journalists, think-tankers, those whom the saffron quarters derisively refer to as the ‘Khan Market gang’, is now barely taking 15 orders a day.
Before the Covid-19 lockdown, chauffeurs and attendants expertly fitted vehicles into the coveted parking slots available. “Now barely a fifth of the space is occupied now,” reveals Samiruddin, a parking attendant who has been at the market for 18 years. “I could never even have dreamt of such a situation.” Before transport reopened, he had trouble travelling to Yamuna Vihar and slept in a small room in the parking lot.
Since the 1990s, Khan Market’s shop fronts are always changing, barely 10-15 shops a constant, including a barbershop in the corner. It is a jumble of fancy and familiar, there are chic boutiques like Good Earth, Ogaan, Ensemble, and Nicobar, as well as old hosiery shops. There are trendy restaurants like Town Hall as well as staples like Khan Chacha. All have been dealt without prejudice by the pandemic.
“I used to do daily business of Rs 20,000, but these days I sometimes don’t even make a bohni (a first sale),” grumbles Banwari, who runs an open stand selling kurtas. Rents hover around Rs 8-10 lakh a month for the small shops on the ground floor, and vary depending on location and size. With staff salaries and overheads, these shops have been bleeding money every day of the lockdown.
Bahri Sons, the landmark bookstore, is looking at a big income shortfall this year. “We didn’t have a single sale after March 23, but have huge and mounting expenses — rent for all our locations, staff salaries. But dukandaar is not a category the government cares for,” sighed owner Anuj Bahri. “They will bail out big industries and all of you make a fuss about migrant workers. But what about us who pay the bulk of tax, the crores we have paid for 60 years?” While jabbing at his calculator to tell us how much the transport and rations for migrant workers are costing the state, Bahri argues, “Only the woes of the poor are recognised. But we are all suffering. Bank loans, even under the special Covid-19 fund, are at 8.25% rate.” Clearly, Khan Market has many miles to go, but it has started taking tiny steps forward.