For decades, MRP stood for dignity. Today, with democratic, secular, and inclusive access to information, prices behave like mood swings

The obituary of MRP (Maximum Retail Price, as it was called) should be filed under “tragic comedy”. Once a symbol of certainty and fairness, confirmed brand transparency and value, it has now been hounded, mocked, and slashed so relentlessly that it has been forced to exit the market stage without a whimper. The official cause of death? Discount overdose.

For decades, MRP stood for dignity. It was printed firmly on every pack and acted like the Lakshman Rekha of commerce. You knew how much you needed to shell out, give or take a few rupees of neighbourhood goodwill. However, in today’s digital marketplace, with democratic, secular, and inclusive access to information, prices behave like mood swings. In the morning, the odd-shaped, freshly repositioned shampoo is Rs 999. By lunch, it’s Rs 699 in a flash sale. At tea, it’s Rs 1,299 with a “last day only” claim. By dinner, it’s back at Rs 799, with a screaming red sticker that resembles a political rally placard.

The consumer is left feeling like an extra in a confusing skit on the stage of the marketplace. Everything is Lajpat Nagar bargaining, but without the satisfaction of a final handshake—just endless shouting matches between fonts in yellow and red.

When brand custodians and Consultants Need Counsellors: On the other side of this circus, brand custodians and marketing managers are equally bewildered. They were trained to trap the consumers with brand values, USPs, loyalty, CSR, and the platform of doing good. Today, it is all overshadowed by a sticker that shouts, ‘Flat 80% Off’. Imagine spending crores on a brand film, only to be upstaged by a neon label the size of a postage stamp.

Even consultants, usually full of frameworks and jargon, are reconsidering their career choices as marketing is in the ICU. One joked that she has started seeing a counsellor: “At least the counsellor gives three extra sessions free.” And frankly, therapy may be more useful than a new brand pyramid when the customer’s only loyalty is to their coupon code.

Consumer Illusion of Fixing the Game and Winning: Meanwhile, the consumer believes they are outsmarting the system. High on adrenaline after the last OTP, they rejoice in getting 2,500 points! Only to discover, weeks later, that it converts to a Rs 200 voucher. Nothing kills a shopping buzz faster than realising your grand loyalty haul could barely buy you a chai at the airport.

Then there is the classic easy interest-free EMI trap. Ah, the modern lullaby. “Interest-free” is the new “fat-free”—technically accurate and practically deceptive. You think you’re buying a phone; in reality, you’re just leasing your peace of mind for the next nine months. As one friend told me, “I can’t afford it now. Thanks to EMI, I also won’t be able to afford it later.”

Loyalty programmes are exercises in self-deception. Buying an unnecessary Rs 1,500 worth of biscuits, chips, and deodorants to unlock that magical Rs 250 discount? Consumers have kitchen shelves groaning under bulk packs while convincing themselves that they have been “smart shoppers”.

Branding by Stickers: Brands are wondering: are people buying the brand or the discount? What exactly does loyalty mean in an age when customers swipe right on whoever is flashing the brightest sticker? It’s like running a long-term relationship, only to lose your partner to someone with a louder megaphone and a cheaper deal on family-size detergent. 

Brand managers used to debate positioning statements. Today, they debate font sizes for “Limited Time Offer”. Somewhere in the process, differentiation, purpose, and storytelling have become footnotes, wholly overshadowed by the shrill urgency of ticking timers.

The New Reality: Let’s be clear: no one is winning, neither the consumers nor the brands. Both are trapped in a spiral of discounts, points, and the chaos of deceptive pseudo-deals. The marketplace is a casino where everyone truly lives a dream, playing until the lights come on and the winnings look far smaller than expected.

The demise of the MRP is not symbolic. It signals the collapse of a shared understanding of value. Once upon a time, price was tied to product. Today, price is a mood, a gimmick, a floating concept that depends on whether it’s Tuesday noon or Wednesday midnight.

Rest in Price: So here is what is happening. Consumers are overbuying, marketers are overselling, and both sides are pretending it’s a win-win. The newly released GDP and GST figures indicate growth, but this may not be an accurate reflection. It is most likely just noise, stickers, and a loyalty programme no one really understands. And somewhere, in the quiet of a warehouse shelf, the ghost of the MRP is shaking its head, muttering, “At least when I was alive, people knew what they were paying.”