"Hello everyone! This is Mark James, your food tourist with two first names and today I'm in the beautiful and enchanted land of Afghanistan. Today, we'll be tasting the ultimate naan-e-afghani, a type of bread that is as rich in its cultural heritage as it is in its flavor, at the iconic Marhaba bakery located at the centre of the Registan desert in southern Afghanistan. There's no other human establishment here as far as the eye can see. It is said that the bread here is so delicious that people willingly travel to the centre of what's considered one of the hottest deserts in Asia to try it. It's become a landmark of the country."
Mark stood a few meters away from the bakery with his left hand shielding his forehead from the hot sun as he looked at up at the simple structure before him. They were trying to take a drone shot of the scenery around them. The bakery had vivid white walls, a simple but strong flat roof, just enough protection to survive a sand storm. There were a few plants and shrubs growing next to it. He was accompanied by a crew of two cameramen and a tour guide. One of the cameramen named Robert was busy taking scenic shots of the surroundings and the bakery while the other named Phil shot the intro. Phil mostly shot Mark and his monologues while Robert took care of the drones and scenic shots. Mark had a popular Food channel on YouTube. He was here doing what any popular youtuber does in an exotic land.
It must be some good naan if people risked this journey for a piece of bread. He looked at the camera crew and grinned.
As they moved closer to the bakery's entrance, they saw a figure donned in an embroidered white kurta emerge from the bakery. The short man with a full beard had a warm and inviting demeanor. They shared a hug and exchanged greetings. Jamal, the tour guide, translated for them.
"This is Mr. Abdul Fateh, the owner of the iconic Marhaba bakery. Mr. Fateh, could you tell us why the place is called 'Marhaba'?"
"Actually, this place was named only a few years ago, by my grandfather, Ali Shah Fateh, may his soul rest in peace. Marhaba in Arabic means welcome and everyone is welcome here"
Mark had an amused look on his face when he heard this. That look turned to admiration when Jamal translated the next part of what Mr. Fateh said.
"Oh no Sir, you must. Please, at least a little"
Mark spoke in his softest and most pleading tone but Mr. Fateh politely declined. He was touched by Mr. Fateh's hospitality but he wanted to pay. However, Mr. Fateh declined with a face that was very hard to say no to, so ultimately Mark had to give in. Mark faced the camera and started to monologue again.
"Mr. Abdul Fateh is incredibly generous, he refused to accept any payment from us. The people of Afghanistan are so incredibly generous and welcoming. Without further ado, let's check out how the famous naan-e-afghani is made."
The crew followed Mr. Fateh as he ushered them in. They had arrived early so there were no customers yet. This made it easier for Mark to shoot his videos because in some of the places he visited, a few locals weren't too happy with him shooting videos in public. On the way to the kitchen, they passed through the seating area with simple wooden chairs and tables, colorful Arabic lanterns dangling from the ceiling and a thin wall separating the kitchen from the dining area that was entirely covered with naan!
"My goodness! Look at that! That, dear viewers, is what the gates of naan-bread heaven looks like. Absolutely beautiful!"
Mr Fateh didn't need Jamal to translate that part. He had an expression on his face that said, If you think that's cool, wait till you see this! The wall adjacent to the entrance had a curved recess in which several photo frames were hung. The photos in them were the pride and joy of this humble little bakery in the middle of the desert.
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Short StoryHere is a collection of short stories that are dull, pointless and sometimes both, just like your lives. The author experiments with various writing techniques to tell imaginative stories that will leave a lasting impression on the reader. The tales...