Muscle Memory & the price of Caramel Popcorn

Muscle memory is a funny thing.

Back in the late 80s, the hammer in our Bangalore home had an unusual side gig—squeezing every last bit of toothpaste from a near-empty tube, long after the fingers declared defeat. Shampoo bottles were never discarded without adding water for one last rinse. Burnt matchsticks transferred flames. Used toothbrushes scrubbed tiles and basins. Soap slivers were pressed onto new bars to ensure no molecule was wasted.

In the early 90s in Mayur Vihar, Delhi, the local medical store gave a 10% discount. But if you took a bus past Tee Pee O Jee restaurant to Jain Medicos in Laxmi Nagar, you’d get 15%. Even after bus fare and a “Lehar” Pepsi ( fun fact- this prefix lasted till 1991), one still saved a princely ₹5! I

Then life changed. India got richer, and so did her people. When I finally made mid-management, I bought Canali suits (but always at 50% off!), an expensive watch, appreciated single malts, and confidently took on a massive mortgage.

Looking back, I sometimes feel embarrassed—not just about the suits, but about what once felt important. Maybe it’s age. Maybe family. Maybe it’s realizing money is better spent on the less fortunate and meaningful causes.

Frugality at its best is mindfulness. But it can also turn into something else.

I know someone who, during COVID, aggressively bargained on luxury brands. Yet, he refused to pay his domestic help and driver because “they weren’t coming to work.” That’s not frugality. That’s selfishness and gross insensitivity.

Some habits fade. I no longer chase discounts, but I spend on experiences (and whiskies!). I tip cabbies and any serving staff generously. I enjoy a good meal, guilt-free.

But some habits refuse to go away.

I still hate waste. I won’t haggle with a vegetable seller, but I refuse to pay for bottled water if the place is clean. A tampered meter still infuriates me—not for the money, but the principle. And every time my kids want caramel popcorn at a movie theatre, my muscle memory makes me cringe.

Maybe it’s this muscle memory that makes ISRO launch missions cheaper than a Hollywood sci-fi film, that built our digistack & UPI, allow our IT industry & services exports to thrive, keeps medical procedures here a fraction of global costs.

But it also limits us. We value function over finish, cost over packaging, and efficiency over perception. Perhaps that’s why India struggles to build luxury brands, barring a few exceptions. We optimize relentlessly but unable to charge a premium. We create world-class services but don’t always invest in creating aspirational brands.

And that’s the paradox of our muscle memory. Maybe it’s why we shake the shampoo bottle one last time. And maybe it’s why we got to the stars — at a discount.

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