The OG Entrepreneurs: Lessons from India’s Cart Vendors
The fruit seller outside your building is not just a vendor. He is a master strategist, a risk-taker, an economist, and an endurance athlete—all rolled into one.
Before the city wakes up, he’s at the Mandi, navigating the chaotic ecosystem of middlemen, buyers, and wholesalers. It’s a high-stakes game. Buy too little, and he loses customers. Buy too much, and half his produce rots in the sun. He has no storage. No fallback. He bets on instinct and years of experience.
Then comes logistics. Unlike a fancy startup with VC money and a fleet of delivery trucks, his supply chain is a single wooden cart, maneuvered through potholes and relentless traffic. No GPS, no CRM, no AI-powered demand prediction. Just muscle memory and intuition honed over decades.
And then, the real battle begins—the society gates.
The same people who don’t blink before paying ₹3,000 for a movie date at PVR, or ₹450 for a salad at a fancy café, will argue over ₹2 with him. They will demand free dhaniya (coriander) as a right, inspect every fruit like a forensic scientist, and then tell him that online grocery stores offer a better deal.
He smiles. He bargains. He absorbs the indignity. Because he knows that while they discuss his pricing, they are sipping artisanal coffee that costs more than a day’s worth of his earnings.
Why does he do it?
Because he is an entrepreneur in the rawest form.
- He understands supply and demand better than most MBA grads.
- He adjusts his pricing dynamically, something businesses spend crores on in consulting fees.
- He manages perishable inventory with zero wastage, a feat most retailers still struggle with.
- He has no brand, no marketing budget, no tech, but he has customer loyalty.
And yet, the world sees him as just a vendor.
But if resilience, adaptation, and real-time business acumen define entrepreneurship—then cart vendors in India are the original entrepreneurs, long before startups and buzzwords existed.
Next time you see him, don’t haggle. Pay the extra ₹5. Take the dhaniya with gratitude. Because you are not just paying for vegetables—you are paying respect to a system that has survived despite all odds.