 "Addicted to China?")
As the post-Diwali smog casts a grey blanket around New Delhi, shopkeepers in Chandni Chowk are grudgingly getting back to work after the festival season. An otherwise bustling market, this Old Delhi hub is markedly sedate. Inside Bhagirath Palace, the reasons for this sobriety are manifold. A recent ban on Chinese firecrackers led to a subsequent call to ban all Chinese goods. While the impact in terms of business is almost impossible to assess - especially since most transactions happen in cash and without invoices - the fear and nervousness is palpable.
Seated outside his shop on a plastic chair, Parveen Kumar Rana, the owner of Om Sai Electricals, is dismissive of this ban on Chinese products. "All our youth is interested in are drugs, WhatsApp and women. How are we ever going to compete with China?" Dressed in a crisp white pants and shirt with a red tilak on his forehead, he appears to be the poster boy for Hindu nationalism. But that ends at his outwardly appearances. "This was all a ridiculous political game. They wanted to create drama and get to the headlines. That's all there is to it," he says, pointing to the various LED and other lights blinking on the façade of his shop. According to Rana, over 80 per cent of the stock he has is Chinese, but not a single packet is labelled "Made in China". To illustrate his argument further, he picks up a fairy lights packet labelled "JSK". "That is short for Jai Shri Krishna," he helpfully adds and laughs. "If someone comes to me and says they want an Indian ladi (string of lights), I sell the same product at a higher price. When these things are not manufactured at all in India, how can people expect Indian products?"
Shopkeepers in the same Bhagirath Palace mutter under their breaths about how their business slowed down in the last 15 days by about 20 to 25 per cent.
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Abhishek Goyal, a young man approaches his shop to check the prices of the Spiderman toy and a mini basketball game. Hearing about China from Kumar, he jumps in to say that just because everything is cheap does not mean it is good. "I did not burn a single Chinese cracker this year."
When asked if he knew that these toys he was buying for his child were also Chinese, he is quick to defend his actions. "I'll buy India-made things as long as they are available. For this, I have no option." When I point out that there is an entire range of handicraft, ceramic and wooden toys, he shrugs. "My kids don't like all that."
A little ahead, Naved Ali is jittery talking about Chinese products in front of customers. Selling replica and unbranded watches in his tiny store, Ali vehemently proclaims that ever since this call for a ban began, he has "converted" all his stock to Indian replica watches supposedly made in Rajkot, Gujarat. But no box or carton reflects this nationalistic pride and is suspiciously devoid of labels.
While other traders talk about substantially higher margins in selling Chinese products, Ali says the margins are similar with Indian products, keeping one eye firmly on the customers in his shop listening in on this conversation.
Those who operate in what is loosely called the "import-export" segment of retail believe that the impact is minimal, but is still present. The items imported from China include plastic kitchenware, knick-knacks, electrical items, fashion accessories and textiles. Almost all of satin and rayon that is used in India is imported from China.
To feed this market, importers visit trade fairs in China, the Canton Fair being the largest of them, which helps them interact with manufacturers and exporters. In major Indian cities such as Delhi and Mumbai, special agents arrange for invitations to these fairs, visa, tickets, hotel stays and even interpreters, for a nominal fee.
Besides these agents, customs handling agents see most volume of their business coming from China. It is only natural when 16 per cent of India's total imports are attributed to China. India's imports from China in 2015-16 stood at Rs 404,043 crore (as against exports to China worth Rs 58,933 crore).
"The numbers speak for themselves. Besides, a 15-day protest or movement cannot impact orders that are placed months in advance. It is a sophisticated process that will need much more than a few ill-informed people to hamper," says a customs agent from the Inland Container Depot in Tughlakabad in Delhi.
In Khurshid Bazaar inside Delhi's wholesale market, Sadar Bazaar, a young shop owner of crockery and sundry kitchen equipment is a frequent traveller to China. "I make at least two or three trips every year. The system is so well oiled that I have never faced any language barrier. They even have Indian food available near these business districts," he says.
He does concede that customers gave up Chinese products, but that was only 20 per cent of his sales. "Most people know there are no Indian alternatives. Plus, this lasted only a few days before Diwali. Closer to the festival, people just wanted to get their work done and not dampen their spirits with such grave ethical issues."
His shop, like most other in Sadar Bazaar, is buzzing with buyers, especially those who buy in bulk.
Vipul Kohli's tiny store is cramped with women's bags in all shapes and sizes. Reds and golds pop out of the stock, in anticipation for the wedding season in Delhi. "Even if they would have thought about Diwali and some misplaced nationalistic idea, no one wants to look less than perfect on their wedding. And not everyone can afford original products," he says, while counting a thick wad of cash.
Across his shop, two young shop owners watch on. When asked about Chinese products and imports, they furiously deny having any Chinese stock. "All this is Indian," they say, unsuccessfully trying to hide their discomfiture. A bright green Versace replica hangs on the side of the shop, with a label that is unreadable because of the Mandarin characters. He follows my line of sight and quickly moves to block the view.
At Ghaffar Market, notorious for being a "grey" market for all things branded, the fear among shopkeepers is more about coming into the limelight than about Chinese goods. At a store that sells imported fibre blankets, the Sikh shop owner says that it is now unfeasible to sell Indian blankets. "There was once a time when all blankets came from Panipat (in Haryana). Today, even our Panipat suppliers import from China."
In October last year, the Indian government had levied anti-dumping duties on these imported blankets as a result of an increase in unsold inventory in China. "But even that has not impacted our business. There are always ways to work around these rules." These "ways" include reducing the price of each item on the invoice, under-invoicing entire shipments, and a robust "unofficial" nexus between customs agents, officers and importers.
In Sarojini Nagar market on Diwali, a street hawker sells strings of fairy lights, calling out to customers with an assurance that these are "Indian". He sells these for Rs 80 apiece. When a young woman asks him twice if these really are Indian, his face goes blank. "These are Chinese. You can take them for Rs 20 apiece," he whispers.
