Everyday at 3 am, Umesh arrives at the kilometre-long stretch of Madiwala Market to set up his vegetable shop. At 5 am. he leaves for Yeshwanthpur market to purchase vegetables that include ladies finger, green chillies, onions, ginger and garlic. By the time he returns, the market is buzzing with activity. Customers begin coming in by 5.30 a.m. and the market remains open till 8 at night.
Sunday mornings are ideal to explore this market since it is a holiday. Walking down the pathway lined with vegetable stalls on either side with hardly any space in between with wares displayed in neat heaps, under a canopy of trees, is strangely relaxing. So removed are we — holed up in our cement and brick houses and high-rise offices — from the smells and sights of nature that it comes as a lovely surprise to be welcomed by the aroma of vegetables, fruits and flowers.
Umesh says on a good day, they have decent sales. He says they try to ensure good relations with their customers so that they return. “Customers come from a 10 kilometre radius, which includes Koramangala, Electronic City, and Sarjapur,” he says, adding, “Residents and office goers stop here on their way home.”
The vegetables are sourced from all over Karnataka. “We get the vegetables from Yeshwanthpur market. Distributors supply them everywhere. One of the markets is this one.” The mighty green chilly looks tempting. “Those are from Tumkur,” he says beaming. The big green chillies are a refreshing sight as compared to the frozen and limp vegetables found in supermarkets.
I then make my way to a man selling condiments. He packs turmeric powder, cinnamon, and black jeera from among a host of spices in small paper packets. Akram is friendly. And when asked how long he has been a vendor here, he says: “30 years.” I soon discover almost all of them say they have been here for 30 years, which suggests that there is a certain pride being associated with a market that grew from an informal gathering of farmers and wholesale marketeers.
Further down, a confident Manjula has a throng of customers around her shack. “When we first started our market, there weren’t so many vendors. Now it is full,” she says, adding: “There are vendors from Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, and even Orissa.”
Displayed in front are broccoli, baby corn and purple cabbage, which is significant because she is aware of the demands of a city that has seen a burgeoning of international cuisine.
There are flower shops beautifully arranged. “We get them from K.R. market,” says a chirpy young man. We then slowly move to the fish stall. Bengalis and fish are almost inseparable. Sami who has been running his fish business for sometime now speaks a smattering of Bengali. “We get the fish from Bengal, and so I picked up the language over the years,” he says and then takes out his card, “You can call me whenever you want to buy fish. I will keep your order ready.”
As the day transitions from morning to afternoon, the number of trucks driving into the market reduce, there are fewer customers, and the vendors relax a bit, huddling into corners to eat lunch or drink tea to catch up on the day’s experiences.
A mall stands right next to the market. “Rich people go there, madam,” says Umesh. “Here poor and middle-class people come. Those who take the trouble to select and buy the freshest vegetables for less money.” Akram shrugs and says: “All they have to do is explore and discover shops that would give them just the kind of food items they are looking for.” When you look at the condiments he sells, you would agree. The turmeric is a deep yellow with a sharp smell, quite different from the packaged light yellow powder. For those who have childhood memories of accompanying your parents to the local bazaar, a trip to Madiwala Market is also filled with nostalgia.
