With the barefoot sales boy, and after a bit of friendly back-and-forth, G. helpt negotiate further saving approximately €80 more. Perhaps we could have pushed for an even better deal, but I was a bit anxious to get the transaction completed and get out of the shop, which smelled of a mix of must and body odour.

At the cash-counter, a woman with a pile of upholstery samples in her hand interrupted the payment process between G. and the clerk, she said in Hindi: ‘Listen, I’m fasting because it is Chaitra Navratri. I worship the nine different avatars of Goddess Durga, and that is why you should give me a bigger discount.’ She sad back in her chair, and seemed pretty sure that “fasting” was the best negotiation tool ever used. The cashier seemed as nonplussed by this tactic as I; he simply wobbled his head and turned back to G. to complete our transaction.

But our hungry and pious customer wasn’t having any of it — she turned to G. and said acidly, “I don’t mean to be annoying, but I believe I was first.” The clerk replied that she had yet to even choose her fabrics and went on arranging the details of the delivery of our order. The customer turned things up a notch: “My husband works for the police!” she insisted, “I come from a police family. So I should get more of a discount.”

With a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, the clerk peered over his glasses at her and said with mock deference, ‘Oh, madam, if you are indeed from a police family and work for the government, then you must be blessed with a generous salary and don’t need that discount at all!’ He gave me an invisible wink and I learned just then and there, that negotiating is indeed the finest art there is. Even if you’re a local and don’t speak English.