Finding home at the Indian Grocer
Inside the heart of local Indian stores
Words by Nikita Bhopti | Edited by Lae UmArtwork by Chris Moso
Chris Moso
Indian Grocer, 2025, film photography.
LOCAL GROCERS are the backbone of many neighbourhoods. Living in multicultural Australia, the average resident would definitely have, at some point in their life, visited a Chinese supermarket, Italian deli and an Indian grocer. Often, international grocers are a means to dip your toe into another world and embrace food outside of your norm. However, for many they are so much more.
Your local Woolies is likely a very familiar place. Customers are greeted by neat rows of trolleys and a curated entrance adorned with shiny, automated chrome gates. While it has been nice to see that the international food isles are consistently expanding in major grocery stores across Australia, there is something missing from them—and no, it is not a product!
Chris Moso
Indian Grocer, 2025, film photography.
The essence of an Indian grocer is familiar and instantly recognisable to anyone that has set foot in one before. The scent of agarbatti, blaring Bollywood bangers, and fluorescent tube lights—often flickering—set the tone for any generic shopping trip. The arbitrary visit to the Indian grocer is a highly sensory and transportive experience. These stores are a reflection of not only the food, but the cultural and social fabric that comprises India. From ingredients and utensils to decorations and even hot meals, the typical Indian grocery store in Western countries has evolved to offer many facets of life in India to everyday visitors.
These stores are a reflection of the combined cultural identity of the seemingly everyday objects they stock. Unlike Woolies, stacks of baskets are tucked between bags of rice. Entry sequences are a sensory overload, comprising temporary fold-out tables (that always end up being permanent) stacked in front of shelves that are commonly overflowing with the next upcoming festival goods —rakhis, diyas or banana leaves.
This is not dissimilar to the ‘downstairs dukaan’ found back home in India. While Western visual merchandising options are available to Indian shopkeepers in Australia, it is no surprise that they opt for familiar display methods that mimic the grocery shops of Mumbai or Delhi. It is here that aunties congregate and share updates of their children’s education. It is where uncles’ say a flustered ‘hello’ to each other, quickly picking up the achaar that they have been on a mission to retrieve. It’s where kids throw tantrums near the kulfi aisle because they want ice cream. Perhaps most importantly though, it is where migrant millennials (like myself) hover when they want a dose of home.
