Itchy feet and me

I walked right in, adopting the quiet instantly. Its temporary powerlessness was apparent. Soon, this will change.

The souk will stir awake to the practiced chaos. The stillness of the morning will be wrinkled, one brown shutter at a time. The fiery sun will stalk its prey. Benevolence will surrender to business. The bazaar at Luxor will show up to better its performance of yesterday.

A few men form small huddles at street corners and chat in hushed tones. Fewer men lounge around in their shops, warming up for the action. And on the narrow empty street, the method behind the madness comes out and takes a bow.

A young man in a flowing grey galabeya polishes his silverware with fondness. He lines them up, determined to find them a new home today. On a table -the royalty, the divine, the Sphinx and the Scarabs -clay figurines lie heaped in a big pyramid like pile. An odd Bob Marley mask looks back unapologetically from this dusty heap. The strong aroma of spices from cane baskets wafts up and playfully slithers away. The snaking lanes will soon be covered with clothes, shoes, souvenirs, fruits, shouts, families, tourists - all merging in to the grand uncensored retail mayhem.

As I explore the lanes further, I meet Salma. She sat on the floor, with a black cloth pulled over her head, allowing just two strands of rebellious grey hair to stay out. She is one of the few traditional coffee readers here.

I request a reading, intrigued both by her skill and my future. In response, she pours some coffee into a milky white cup, and swirls it around like the dealer of a dice game. She carefully empties it in to a saucer with a prayer. And then begins to decode the drying stains.

A small audience gathers and eagerly helps translate the prophecy from Arabic into English. It was evident that a lot was lost in translation, what with this endearing and collaborative approach we took. Somewhere in the reading she advised “Appreciate this moment. And when that changes, appreciate the new one”. It made sense, especially considering how I was trying to hold on to this fleeting calmness at the market with such fierce claws.

As if on cue, like a loud cry announcing the arrival of a new born, the first bargain echoes through the lane. The market is now officially open for the day. I smile, accepting the shift.

As I prepare to leave, Salma gives me a toothless smile and a generous blessing. I reply, “Shokran”, fully grateful for this moment.