In defence of "Bazaar"

I have made a promise to myself to strike the term "Little India"from my lexicon. Really. Why is it that whenever any cultural group becomes associated with a geographical area of Toronto, they get demoted to "Little"? Truly, there is one "Little"spot in Toronto for me, and that is "Little Italy". Why? Because it's a first - a name claimed by the community, not thrust upon it. The Annex, Rosedale, Cabbagetown, The Beach, High Park, Little Italy, Chinatown? Yes! Little India, Indiaville, Indiatown? No! "Little""Ville""Town"are names coined when no other title has grown organically. For a geographic area to name itself it needs a sense of history, a feeling of familiarity, a community that, as one, recognises the affectionate homeyness of the title when it's uttered. Bazaar. Let it roll over your lips. Close your eyes on this cold February day and feel the warmth of summer, stalls on the sidewalk, chatter of people talking in many languages. Imagine the colours pink, orange, green, purple, unabashedly thrown together without regard to their placement on the colour wheel.

Bazaar: A Marketplace, or shopping quarter, esp. South Asian. Bizarre: Different, Unusual, Unique. C'mon Neighbours! Spurn "Little India". Gerrard India Bazaar. Rrrrresplendent with rrrrrrs. Augmented by soft aaaaahs. A little bit of ZZZing. When you speak of your neighbourhood let your friends hear the Calm, the Anticipation, the below-the-surface Fizz, inherent in the very make-up of its letters. Leave them subconsciously expecting the Unexpected.