THE RUG MERCHANT’S TALE by MARCIA SHERMAN
G
ood day—how are you this fine afternoon? This appears to be a friendly café, but also very quiet. Must be the time of day, too early for some and too late for others, am I right? Thirsty? Yes, we are, thank you.You can tell from our dusty clothing that we have traveled some distance. Might we get some arak with a pitcher of cold water? As I am sure you know, arak is potent, and we do not want to become muddled so early in the day. What is that? You have smaller bottles of arak, a promotional item? Oh, how lovely. How very kind of you. That will do, and we can take a bottle with us. Always in the market for a decorative high-quality bottle. The cork is rather upmarket, and sturdy. It will travel well. Is it possible you can join us at the table? Your company would be welcome. And one more question—do you employ someone to care for livestock? Our camels need water and feed. Is there any chance they could partake of some sweetgrass with a few dates? It may seem strange riding camels when we could be enjoying a faster mode of travel. Nonetheless, we have found camels are best for desert travel. Thank you; we are all gratitude. This plate of figs and fruit, cheese and pita is most welcome. You have anticipated every need. I am so taken with this bottle of arak, for the outside as well as what is contained within. You see, I have a fondness for bottles. There can be a healthy living to be made in buying and selling pretty bottles. Husbands want them for their wives, sultans for their households. Children wish for a jinn in a bottle. Yet it is surprising how many bottles are discarded simply because their original purpose is complete. You have met our needs so graciously; will you permit the telling of a story? A story which includes a charming bottle… A young woman hurried through a desert city, her purpose to fill a water jar for the evening meal and nightly bathing. To save time, she took a different route to the well, by way of an obscure alley, rarely used. Walking quickly, she tripped over an object on the ground. Annoyed that anyone would so carelessly leave something for others to fall over, she bent to see and was amazed to find an exquisite bottle made of glass, encased in scrolled metal, the sparkles of the glass shining as if through little windows. Of medium size, not too heavy. A striking yet practical stopper of blue glass shaped like a gem. She attempted to remove the stopper, but it was stuck fast. The woman looked around the alley, seeking a door or window to indicate from where the bottle may have become lost, and saw only blank walls. Someone using the same shortcut must have dropped the bottle in haste. Unfortunate. However, she owned so few lovely objects, and seeing no one to claim the bottle, she slipped it in her pocket. Now, what I have not mentioned before is the life this young woman led. Her name was Asha and her 8
