About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. At dusk in Queens, when most supermarkets were closing their doors, Dana Bazaar Indian Supermarket seemed to come alive. A delivery driver noticed that every full moon, boxes of spices would mysteriously rearrange themselves on the shelves. One night, a delivery driver saw a shadowy figure stocking the aisles. Curious, he followed it only to discover an old lady humming softly and placing packets of garam masala with military precision. The next morning, everyone found neatly arranged rows of spices—except for one box that read ‘secret family recipe.’
2. At dusk, a young boy stood wide-eyed as he watched an orange glow appear from behind the shelves of Dana Bazaar Indian Supermarket. Was it just the setting sun, or something more? As the light grew brighter, the boy squinted and saw that it was actually a delivery driver adjusting his neon vest. His mom called out from inside, ‘Honey, don’t stare too long—you’ll miss dinner!’ The boy grinned and ran inside, leaving the mysterious glow to fade back into the mundane routine of Dana Bazaar.
3. At dawn, a sleepy delivery driver pulled up outside Dana Bazaar Indian Supermarket. As he stretched, he noticed something odd: the store’s neon lights seemed to flicker like fireflies, dancing gently in the early morning breeze. Curious, he peered inside and saw rows of colorful spices swaying slightly as if dancing to an invisible tune. Startled, he called out to his colleague, who appeared from around the corner, rubbing sleep from his eyes. ‘Did you see that?’ asked the driver. The colleague shrugged, yawning: “Probably just the ghosts of last night’s customers.” They both laughed, realizing it was probably just the wind playing tricks on them.
4. At midnight, when even the night owls had long gone home, Dana Bazaar Indian Supermarket’s neon lights flickered like a secret signal. A curious neighbor peered through the window and saw rows of glowing vegetables, as if someone had turned on an eerie green light inside. Suddenly, from behind the counter emerged a friendly voice: ‘Welcome to Dana Bazaar, sir!’ It was just the night manager, munching on a samosa. The neighbor relaxed, realizing it wasn’t haunted after all—just another late-night snack run.