The shopping complex had a perfect entrance .
It lay on the road from the city . First the entry , with a petrol refilling station to your right , and the offices , the billing booths and the main building to your left. You parked your vehicle beyond the greengrocers , walked a small road between the parked two wheelers and then walked into the air conditioned world of human consumption . Neat labelled shelves full of merchandise . Food items , utensils , luggage , clothing , plasticware , all in their separate sections . Occasionally , salespersons will be found sitting on unopened cardboard boxes , arranging bottles of shampoo from another box , onto shelves .
In short , a world of perfection . Well , as they say , perfection is a mirage .
So , one fine day , a trip to the aforementioned place met with strange mutations in signs , and chaotic traffic jam at both the entrance and the exit . Upon enquiry , it was revealed that the former exit was the new entrance with a large “Enter here ” written in cheeky neon , and vice versa . So , now you entered through the backdoor , with a wall to your right and the LPG cylinder godown to your left.
The entrance became dismal , severe . A concurrent slashing of subsidies saw the consumer goods vanish off shelves , and not replenished . The footfalls reduced . Another supermarket opened its services to the needy public , and moss engulfed the wall lining the "entrance ". The once bustling market wore a deserted , abandoned look , and the billing counters , once jostling with cramped humanity , had one single cashier ,playing temple run on his phone and yawning occasionally . Flies sat on the tray of cream cakes in the display , and few abandoned shopping carts in the foyer developed irreparable rust.
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