Catch Me If You Can– New York Edition

Time of India

19-06-2025

Sonika Sethi is Associate Professor of English in S D College, Ambala Cantt. Her articles are regularly published in Hindustan Times, The Tribune, etc. and has published more than 150 articles. She is the author of the weekly column 'Spell-Bound by Sonika' published on rhyvers.com. She is the Executive Editor of monthly literary magazine, Rhyvers Beat. She is on the editorial board of 8 academic journals and has 7 books to her credit. Her books include: From the Sidewalks of Life, Easter Lilies and Other Stories, Of Gulmohars and Kaners and Other Stories, Rohinton Mistry's Fiction: A Postmodern Approach, Cinematic Adaptations of Literary Texts, Brewing Memories and Shades of Love. Her book Easter Lilies and Other Stories was long listed for Times of India Auther Awards. The book also won the Best Fiction Book Award by Asian Literary Society. Recently her book has been included in the Top 100 Books of India. She conducts lectures and workshops in schools, colleges and universities on the art of storytelling, creative writing, soft skills, Intellectual Property Rights and communication skills. LESS ... MORE
Outside Krispy Kreme's flagship store in Times Square, as we waited for our coffee and doughnuts, a sudden commotion broke the buzz of the evening. A NYPD vehicle came hurtling down West 48th Street, its siren blaring, and an officer's voice echoed through the microphone, grabbing everyone's attention.
In a flash, five or six tall Black men began hurriedly packing up their
wares—an array of counterfeit branded goods like watches, wallets, and handbags neatly laid out on the pavement. They dashed around the corner in a well-practiced escape, vanishing into the crowd with
practiced ease. For the untrained eye, their merchandise could have
easily passed for the real thing, a testament to how convincing knock-offs can be.
What struck me most was how swiftly the scene returned to normal. No sooner had the NYPD patrol car turned the corner than the same men reappeared, effortlessly laying out their goods once again on the
pavement, as if nothing had happened. The entire routine seemed
rehearsed, almost choreographed—a part of their daily hustle. It
reminded me of similar scenes I had witnessed back in India.
Years ago, while casually window shopping in the bustling street market of Sector 15, Chandigarh, I saw vendors suddenly scramble in all directions, hurriedly wrapping up their wares. Moments later, two police constables appeared, managing to seize a few sellers and their goods. The rest had already melted into the crowd, only to return once the threat had passed. The symmetry between the two episodes—different continents, same survival instinct—was striking.
These scenes, miles apart, underline two fundamental truths. First, there would be no vendors if there were no buyers. The demand for cheap, easily accessible goods, especially imitations of high-end brands, stems from a widespread consumer desire to enjoy the appearance of luxury without bearing its cost. Branded products often remain out of reach for a large segment of the population, leading to a thriving parallel economy that fulfils these aspirations at a fraction of the price. For many buyers, the allure lies not just in affordability but in the social impression these lookalikes create, making them willing participants in this grey market.
Second, such activities flourish in the spaces created by lapses in law enforcement. The cat-and-mouse routine with authorities continues because it's predictable, rarely resulting in lasting consequences. If policing were consistent and loophole-free, these sellers would find it harder to operate. Thus, this informal business is sustained not just by the resilience of the vendors but by the active participation of the consumers and the inconsistent application of rules. All three— the seller, the buyer, and the system—are entangled in this daily handshake.
All said and done, I couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and
concern. On one hand, I was genuinely impressed by the swiftness and street-smart agility with which these vendors responded to the looming threat of law enforcement, handling the situation with practiced ease and remarkable composure. Yet, on the other hand, a sense of unease lingered. I couldn't stop thinking about the emotional and psychological toll their precarious existence must take. Living each day under the constant shadow of uncertainty, with the law hovering like the sword of Damocles, cannot be easy.
Their grit is admirable, but the fragility of their livelihood reminds us of the harsh realities that define survival on the margins.
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Views expressed above are the author's own.