‘A Busy City Market’ by Roha Khan

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As I walked down the cobbled street, I saw the vast variety of both, people and items. Everyone bustled round, doing everyday chores, not sparing anyone a second glance. Looking around you could see all sorts of people, distinguished by their attire, attitude, and qualities found in that particular individual.

Looking around you could appreciate all types of colours; from bright orange in the advertising banners to pale gray peaking out of advertising boards, worn out in the changing weather

You saw a pattern as you walked. The shops selling the same items were found closer to each other. First you encountered the shops selling clothes. When they slowly petered out, the jewelry shops started, followed by gift shops, shops selling antiques, then fast food restaurants….

It was a place where all the five senses were at work; the brain was busy processing the information and filling my body with all kinds of sensations.

I had alw2asys been a careless person and never looked where I went. In the market, I tripped over a brick, which was placed by the door to prevent it from closing. The words of apology were streaming out of my mouth as I bumped into people who seemed to be appearing out of nowhere.

Inside the shops I examined the nature of items sold; feeling a piece of cloth between my fingers in one store and holding up a piece of crockery in another.

As I got closer to the food section, smells of food wafted in the air. Some were of hot, chili food, while some were of sweet. Sounds of dishes being carried, food being cooked, customers giving orders, waiters delivering orders, added to the aroma in the air.

But it was the large number of people present that overwhelmed me. I have always hated crowded and busy places. And this place was more crowded than any other place I had ever been to.

As the shops were grouped together, according to their similarities, so were the people. Somewhere in front of me was a group of teenagers searching for clothes for a theme party. At one place a group of elderly people sat on a bench, talking about the good old days. A pair of children danced, as they played around the fountain, which sprouted water onto their heads. At some place women stood discussing the work on a length of cloth. Once I saw a family arguing over a piece of furniture, deciding which room it would be best for.

It would be the perfect place for a person who enjoyed the company of others, but for me it was suffocating. In the crowd it was difficult to breath. It was so hot that drops of sweat fell into my eyes and I had to wipe my hands on my clothes. The assortment of sounds was overwhelming: customers haggling with shopkeepers, some where the cry of a baby or the piercing scream of a girl.

I walked away as I felt nauseous. I hated this place and wanted to have nothing to do with it. The place for me was a quite park, not a busy city market.

About froebelianwriters

I am an English Language teacher teaching O'Levels Edexcel and CIE A Levels at Froebel's International School, Islamabad. I am also working as a Subject Specialist Literacy consultant for the same school. Writing and reading has always been a passion and I try my utmost to instill these habits and hobbies in my students as well. I can be reached/contacted at fabbas227@hotmail.com or 03365287335 Happy reading!

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