The Broom Seller - Haji Hamid

It wouldn't be long before the hustle and bustle of the bazaar would bring Haji Hamid some customers.

He was sitting on this stool, with his legs folded up, crossing his arms over his knees to keep them propped up, watching the people in the bazaar go about their day, with his eyes squinting against the sunlight. He was happy.

Haji Hamid had been selling jaaroos (brooms) at this very shop for as long as he could remember. His father had owned it before him, and he recalled working alongside his father as he grew up. The student had now become the master.

It certainly felt that way now, as he sat patiently, waiting for the flow of customers to reach him. He was the master of this shop, of this area, of his brooms. The customers would haggle but he had the ultimate say in whether they would go home with a broom or not that day.

In the previous week, he had met a little girl who had come to shop with her father . She had looked up at him, a mix of fear and fascination in her eyes, and had proudly exclaimed that she helps her mom do chores in the house using a broom like the ones he was selling.

He had laughed, and given her a little broom, a little nowruz gift, and commended her for her hard work, and her face had lit up. It had made his day. It was the little things that kept Haji Hamid smiling.

The voices in the bazaar grew and Haji Hamid got up from his stool to readjust some of the crooked brooms. He had been doing the same thing for years. The same routine, the same place, the same shop.

It wasn't a great source of income but he always had food in his belly and a bed to sleep in. He was always grateful for his little shop, his own little castle.

It kept him happy.


Story and illustration by @rasmorawaj ©

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