I have been rather uncharacteristic in the past couple of months: Not only did I buy myself a pair of shoes from a website, I followed that up with buying a couple of books online as well.

Er, yes. That's what I meant when I said I was uncharacteristic. But, perhaps, I should elaborate.

I detest shopping. I have detested it for as long as I can remember. I don't mind having new things (although never an excess of it), and even actually like it at times, but it is the act of getting new things that I find unbearable. I am most happy when someone else gives me things that I like without me having to be involved in the process of buying them. Here's why:

1. I begin to get a niggling feeling that I would like to buy, for instance, a pair of shoes. My previous pair has worn out and I need to replace it. And this is where the problem begins. I don't think, "a pair of shoes". I think, "a pair of black leather pumps (not patent leather but matte), with peep toes (but not too much of toes showing), about a 3-inch heel with a hard rubber (not metal) tip, rubber or leather soles with a good grip." (I might as well make the shoe myself!)
2. I then go on a recce of the shops that I have in mind. This may take from a day (if the shops are in one neighbourhood or mall), or several days. This is how my recces almost always go:
a) I don't find exactly what I am looking for. Either the shoe is not leather, or not the right colour; the heels are hideous; or the sole is made of some synthetic material that will crumble in no time; or, if all other requirements are ticked off, there will be a large, bow, with a glistening stone in its centre, stuck over the face of the shoe.
b) If, by chance, I do find what I am looking for, it will never be available in my size.
c) And if, by some greater stroke of luck, I get the design that I want, in a size that fits, it will cost a preposterous amount.
3. After days of recces and subjecting myself to the lurid interiors of shops and malls, aching feet, and thinning patience, I give up the idea of buying any shoe at all.

Apart from never quite finding something that I like, that fits, and that I can afford, I cannot stand the bright, glistening, shimmering, sparkling mash of colours that assault my eyes in any shop I enter, whether it sells shoes, handbags or soap. (Bookshops, obviously, are an exception and, therefore, much loved.) My eyes must be peculiarly sensitive; it would explain why I feel violent urges to grab my sunglasses while sitting at my office desk when I spot characters dressed in, for example, vast swathes of canary yellow with fuchsia detailing. (There should be a rule against such combinations.)

So, after the usual farce of a recce (as mentioned in points 2a, b and c), I considered going online and checking if a certain brand of shoes would have something I could buy. Let me mention here that apart from flight tickets, I had never bought anything online, ever.

To my great surprise, I did find something that I liked, and that looked like it would fit, and I could afford it. Thinking that all this was simply too good to be true, I agonised over the return policy for a couple of days (called up the helpline and badgered some fellow there, etc). But finally bought it. When the shoe arrived, I felt like I had got a surprise present from someone, so alien was the feeling of being handed a parcel holding something that I like.

Much enthused, and encouraged, I told myself that I should stop being this old foggy, and dive into the world of online shopping. After all, look at my mother (I think apart from a house and a car, she has bought everything possible online... clothes, shoes, kitchen appliances, books, jewellery, painting equipment, groceries, furnishings...).

And so I went to Jabong.com. After my success with the last pair of shoes, I chose to browse some more footwear. I was told there were some 17,000 kinds I could choose from. Hold on. 17,000?? I gingerly started scrolling... bright colours started flashing before my eyes. After a few minutes, I narrowed my search to leather footwear. From 17,000 it came down to 300-something. That was quite drastic. I scrolled some more. Very soon my eyes started feeling funny again... just like they do when I walk the aisles of malls for too long. Scrolling through hundreds of shoes on a 15-inch screen was even worse. It was like having innumerable of those same lurid shops crammed into a miniscule space.

I shut my laptop down, switched off the lights in my room, and lay down, feeling ill.

A few days later, I thought of giving it another shot and went to Flipkart to browse books (after all, I have heard so much about it). Something similar to Jabong happened. Thousands of books. It should have been a delight, but it wasn't. It can hardly be compared to spending hours in front of crammed bookshelves, bending your neck this way and that to read the titles, pulling them out, flipping through them, sniffing at the binding, shifting on gradually aching feet... I logged out, not having browsed more than a handful of covers.

I did order a couple of books later though (no bookshop seemed to have these titles), in a much sanitized, matter-of-fact manner: Log on, check for availability, place order, log out. I might as well be buying a bulb at the local hardware shop.

I realized that shopping online does not change a single darn thing: To get the things that I truly like (books), I will still spend hours inside shops; while buying things that are low-priority will remain largely painful and avoidable.

So much for being an old foggy.