Shoppers think fresh – and think less of products endorsed by World Cup losers
Middle-class Delhi-ites have fallen in love — with supermarkets. The ‘Organised Retail’ concept has exploded here, as mini-chains such as Big Apple, Food Bazaar and Reliance Fresh seek to get a head-start over the likes of global brands such as Wal-Mart and Tesco — both rumoured to be looking for sites in the capital. Big Apple (slogan: ‘Think Fresh’) consisted in 2005 of just one store employing 30 people; by August 2007, the group hopes to have opened 300 stores. Analysts say the market is growing at over 25 per cent annually.
At six o’clock on a Sunday evening, the Reliance Fresh outlet on Rani Jhansi Road in north-east Delhi is buzzing with affluent families filling their baskets with fresh vegetables, cans of condensed milk, sachets of popcorn and brightly coloured kitchenware. For many, a visit has become the new social pastime en famille. Those who fail to make it past the officious security guards stand on the pavement and watch the customers troop by on the retail red carpet.
I wonder aloud what the attraction is. ‘I like it that this onion hasn’t been rolling around in the dirt just minutes before I buy it,’ says Rupa Mathur, holding one up to me. ‘It’s cheap!’ says another woman. In this price-sensitive country, the ability to bulkbuy means the new chains have an edge over mom-and-pop corner shops; they also focus on the psychology of shopping, noting that more than half of what finds its way into a shopper’s basket are impulse purchases. With young staff in red and green uniforms running around helping customers choose the plumpest red pepper and the shiniest apple, supermarkets, it seems, are the best thing since sliced bread — on sale at Reliance Fresh for 13 rupees a half-loaf.
‘’m sorry, Ma’am, Surender no longer I works here. He is moving to real estate.’ The concierge is talking about the former guest relations manager at the hotel where I always stay in Delhi. It’s an announcement made with the reverence, not to say mild envy, reserved for describing a friend who has won the lottery. Real estate in Delhi, as in Mumbai and a couple of other big ‘metros’ in India, is officially where it’s at right now. Not so long ago, tourism was the growth industry, but real estate is attracting Delhi’s bright young things. This national flight to property is noticeable as soon as you step from the sweltering heat of the arrivals hall at Indira Gandhi International airport and slide into your air-conditioned 4x4 for the journey into town. Hotel and apartment construction is booming, and not just in preparation for India’s hosting of the 2010 Commonwealth Games. The property section of the weekend Times of India is thicker than the rest of the paper put together, thicker even than the gossip-filled Delhi Times supplement — which, given India’s insatiable appetite for celebrity trivia such as the recent Hurley–Neyer and Bachchan–Rai nuptials, is quite an achievement. Penthouses with jacuzzis and squash courts vie with attractions such as ‘24hour water supply’ and fans in every room, all designed to appeal to aspirational types flocking to suburbs like Gurgaon and Noida, where couples can actually afford to live.
Some of this focus on construction needs to be directed urgently at Delhi’s airports. Arriving from London, our pilot informs us we’re 13th in the queue. Once we have circled several times and finally landed, we’re herded to an outfield to wait for steps, and bussed to the terminal — where we find no other planes waiting. The congestion is all at the domestic terminal, but the domestic and international airports share runways. There is government pressure to reduce the distance between incoming aircraft, but trouble brews on the ground, where the runways lack an adequate number of rapid exitways to clear the path for the next plane. This congestion mirrors the crowded market of India’s airline industry. Currently, there are 13 home-grown airlines, but four will be obliged to merge soon, following government intervention to make them more competitive.
India’s premature exit from the cricket World Cup distressed more than just the team’s one billion fans. Those with more reason than most to hold their heads in their hands were the global advertisers, media buyers, sponsors and travel trade operators who between them ploughed more than £230 million into marketing spin-offs alongside the off-spin. In a country where cricket is practically a national religion, the number of homes watching the matches on television was estimated at 70 million. Understandable, then, that so many businesses homed in on marketing opportunities: global brands such as Hutch, Samsung and Cable & Wireless all signed sponsorship deals while Pepsi launched a rather sickly version of its cola drink with a dash of lemon in it, called Pepsi Gold, in homage to the gold-coloured World Cup trophy.
A collective nervous breakdown was evident early on, when India lost unexpectedly in their opening match against minnows Bangladesh. By the time India finally crashed out to Sri Lanka, the amount of heated and detailed analysis on 24-hour television (interspersed, of course, with lots of juicy commercials) was matched only by the torrent of venomous texts from fans contacting the programmes to demand that members of the national team stop fretting about which car or drink they endorse and get on with the job of playing cricket. The accusation is pertinent: Sachin Tendulkar, India’s premier batsman, recently signed a three-year marketing deal with Saatchi & Saatchi for £20 million. He can still be seen on billboards and television screens endorsing anything from Adidas sportswear to Visa, and at the start of the tournament he was not alone: watches, crisps, motorbikes, banks and telephone networks were all promoted by one cricketer or other. But the players’ abysmal performance has knocked their market value. With only a small fraction of the population now expected to tune in to watch Saturday’s final in Barbados, several brands, including Pepsi, have hurriedly dropped cricketers from their campaigns. Optimistically, Reliance Fresh still stocks T-shirts in the Indian team colours — but the price has been slashed to just 39 rupees, equivalent to 46 pence. Howzat?!
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