Kohled Eyes

A Trade

Home sweet home.

It was Constantinople at its best.
I gulped in the air: the busy air of the bazaar. I couldn't get enough of it. After a month tossing about at sea, I was glad to be back on solid land. (Although I knew, in a few days, I'll be wishing for the sea again.). We've been here a week and business has been very smooth. I was able to make a nice profit, and had just a little more goods to sell. Usually I would have stocked up on more goods. But not this time.

I stood leaning against a post, realising that this might be one of the last times I get to see this scene again. I don't need to stock up because I've saved enough and can finally retire. Which means, I can go home.
I stood leaning against the pole, and enjoyed the scene.

It was a wide boulevard with plenty of cross streets and small lanes. The sides were filled with stalls of every kind. Vendors were everywhere. The Persians selling the best of cloth: tapestries, carpets and rugs, and dresses of every colour and style. The Indians selling their priceless ornaments, spices and knowledge. Arabs were everywhere, buying, selling and bargaining. Roman soldiers were like ants, scurrying around. The sweet spicy scent of Mexican food on the flame was in the air. The traffic was an endless stream of donkey, horse and human- not to forget the cats and dogs. And the occasional scurry of smaller animals: rats, mice and snakes. Monkeys scampered on the stalls, above and below, placing their hands on whatever they could reach, and provoking the rage of the vendors.
The sun was beating down on the market without mercy, heating up the sand, which in turn was blown up and around by the never-dying breeze and endless traffic.
I looked about me, straight ahead there was the heavily turbaned ascetic; who would read palms, or your horoscope, and when no one seems to be giving him either, would play his flute and wake his snakes. Right now he was blowing on it, with the mastery of one who has done it all his life. As the man ended, the snake dutifully finished its performance and settled back into its basket, and then the coins were showered on his cloth.
Beside me was a tea stall. The craziest aromas blew into my nose from it. There was the smell of ginger, and then tea, and then the finest coffee from the Ethiopian plains, then the smell of cinnamon. And the sizzling of a pan as the oil was poured into it.
Beside me, on my other side was a beggar with a heavily bandaged leg and an eyepatch. An occasional wealthy merchant passing by would take pity on him and drop a few gold coins, or silver coins, or whatever coins from wherever in the globe he came from. The small homeless children playing around would make fun of him and he would chase them away with his walking stick.

I pushed back on the pole and started walking with a purpose. Although I had none.
I walked where my feet would take me. I walked along the stalls where starving slaves were kept shackled, for sale. I walked along the stalls of delicate chinaware and porcelain, of the Chinese. The Chinese were always a pleasant people, as long as they don't use you for brushing up on their martial arts, that is. And if you mess with their stall, yes, they will use you for karate practice. I exchanged small talk and moved on. I walked along the rows of fine-crafted swords and elaborate sheaths. Rows of bows and arrows of different shapes and techniques.
" 'T WILL FLY FOR AZ LONG AZ YOU CAN SZEE! OR MAYBE EVEN FURTZER!" One of the staff bellowed to the crowd, right at my ear. Wincing with pain, I walked along and picked at the shields and spears and battle-axes and armour of every sort.
I walked along the stalls which held the best earthenware, those which can only be got in Constantinople, The Hub. Pottery at its finest, not a grain was out of place. I walked along, I walked along, I walked along.

"HOT TEA! HOT, HOT COFFEE! THE BEST IN TOWN!!"

I walked along.

"FINEST CLOTH IN ALL THE WORLD! HAND WOVEN BY THE BEST CRAFTSMAN OF THE COUNTRY!!"

I walked along.

"SWORDS SHARP ENOUGH TO SPLIT ROCKS!"

I walked along.

"THE BEST GIFT FOR YOUR LOVED ONES AT HOME! MOST EXQUISITE GIFT FOR YOU WIFE!!NICE TOYS FOR YOUR CHILDREN!!"

"How much is this necklace?"
"One hundred, good sir, I'll give it to you for HALF price- kalaas. Fifty!! Finest glass beads from the south coast of China."
"What about this bracelet?"
"Same price. One hundred. That also HALF PRICE, fifty. For your wife, good sir? It'll look BEAUTIFUL on her hands sir!!"
I raised my eyes up to look at him. He wasn't even noticing, he was already saying the same thing to another young man. I sighed, his punch line.
"You takin' it sir?
"What's the last price?"
"Cost price sir! Cost price! Fifty final!"
"I'll take both. Put seventy five for both"
"SEVENTY FIVE! Not fair sir. Last price, for both, EIGHTY! Final, eighty? ok?"
"Eighty"
I put the necklace and bracelet in my pouch, knowing full well that he would have bought it for less than thirty each.
"Lies." I thought, lost for a moment in bitterness.
I walked by stables, the finest horses from every breed and the most hardy donkeys, up for sale - or so the man claimed. The animals looked barely well fed.
I entered a woodworking stall. Wood carvings - the best of its kind- were all lined up. Some men were working on another project, intricately designing it with carvings of flowers. The pleasant smell of wood and sawdust brought back long dead memories. The steady rhythm of the blade and hammer were reminiscent.
I crossed the street and peeped at a small scale blacksmith hammering away at a lump of metal. If I came again tomorrow I know I would see a fine work of art - either a weapon or an ornament- with the same man adding final touches to it. I just knew.
I ended up walking back to the post which I had leaned against earlier in the day. I passed it and walked into the tea stall.
"What would you like, young man?" A badly scarred and ugly looking man asked from behind the counter. But I looked at him and only saw the sacrifice he had made for his country as a soldier. He had a pleasant voice. A fatherly voice.
"The best tea your blessed hands can make sir", I replied, in a low voice.
"Oh, don't you worry about the tea! We get the best tea leaves in all the seas and shores. Fine tea imported exclusively from Ruby Island, young man!" He replied, and looked up at me with twinklin' eyes," You know where that is, don't you, young man?"
A smile tugged at my lips. I took a seat and crossed my legs over, on the bench.
Two minutes later.
He brings the tea around and hands me the pot.
I hold it in my hands and savour the aroma," I hail from yonder, Sir ".
He turns back with pleasant surprise. He was probably confused as to what he was supposed to do. A pause, and he goes back to his place in the counter, probably coming to the conclusion that maybe, there was nothing he was supposed to do.
I bring the tiny pot closer. It was warm against my lips. I closed my eyes. I opened my eyes.
I sip the tea and look up at the only-getting-busier bazaar.
"Ahh. Ex- cellent," I close my eyes slowly. I open my eyes again.
"Home Sweet Home"

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Hey guys! Thank you so much for all your support throughout this period of inactivity!!! It was great motivation guys, thank you soooooo much!!
Hope you like this, read, vote, share and don't forget to hit me up in the comments section below for suggestions and ever-welcome criticism. Even pointing out typos and grammatical errors are appreciated, Coz, you know- we learn from mistakes....
Thank you, thank you again and Happy Reading!!
P.S: I've entered the wattys2016 thingy. I'd love watever support.... I dunno how this thing even works...
P.S: I've edited the previous chapter ( minor stuff), felt like giving you guys a heads up.