Carpet Seller - Yousef

Yousef’s voice mingled with the other voices in the bazaar, and although he knew he needed to shout louder to be heard, he didn’t. He called out to customers half heartedly, gesturing at the beautiful rug he had hung over his shoulder for display, as he sat at the door of his shop, waiting to attract the attention of buyers. 

As he listened to the voices of the bazaar drown his own out, he slowly fell into a daze, and found himself thinking about Feroza, his beautiful, lovely, strong Feroza. How she would sit on the floor, and tie each knot on the wooden loom oh so carefully, while humming softly. Her beautiful long braided hair falling on her back, she would glance at him from time to time and smile, and his heart would flutter. 

Days and nights passed, and his Feroza would sit at the loom, humming and smiling and knotting, while Yousef would watch her in awe. Finally, the rug was completed one day and she handed it to him, and proudly sent him off to the shop where he could sell it. 

𝘖𝘩 𝘍𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘻𝘢, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦? He thought to himself, sighing. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴’ 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵? 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘨?

Yousef was suddenly shaken out of his daze by the loud voice of the man in front of him, leering at the rug and asking “chand ast (how much)?”

Yousef was silent for a few moments, observing the leering man with disgust. 

“It’s not for sale”, he finally responded. “It’s just a showpiece. I’ll show you more designs inside,” he said, gesturing towards the inside of his store. 

The man scoffed and walked away, shaking his head and muttering angrily under his breath. 

Yousef sighed, feeling a bit relieved. He adjusted the rug on his shoulder shouting half-heartedly once again, his voice getting lost amongst the other shopkeepers in the bazaar, and hoped that his voice wouldn’t reach anyone so that he could keep the rug for just another day.

Story and illustration by @rasmorawaj ©