The Lower Bazaar

When the streets they shine under borrowed light and the people brush against each other very few souls can claim to be immune from the general excitement which lingers in the narrow alleys of The Lower Bazaar.

I don't venture out there quite often but when I do I can't hold myself back from marvelling at the insane cacophony produced by the crowd which in spite of itself doesn't actually hurt your ears . The same cannot be said about the noise which those machines generate , even when they are the sole occupants of premises where they are placed .

Evenings are cool at this time of the year and hence one can see people all dressed up in their heaviest attires which to be sure may eventually turn out to be superfluous items given the fact that the human body itself emanates a good deal of heat . We can then see young children pestering their hapless parents to allow them to remove those heavy woollen jackets which were placed upon their slender shoulders by the concerned mothers before leaving for the Lower Bazaar.


One often gets confused in the Bazaar . So many bodies and so many faces . Some look familiar while the others actually are . In small towns all faces are familiar. Everybody is an acquaintance . It's really nice to see smiles waiting to break out on their faces just as they come near you. My hands are always cold , thus it's a nice feeling to shake hands with warm ones .


The Bazaar is located on the slope of the hill and as you go higher you come closer to the Ridge. It's a kind of social elevation too. The narrow alleys soon give way to broad roads , but what remains the same is the conspicuous presence of human population .


The wind up here is a lot cooler and now those jackets and coats reacquire their lost dignity and from being otiose items hindering our movement become our second skin. I feel a little sorry for the mendicants who have no choice but to wrap themselves up with those sorry looking rags which till quite recently were used by the more privileged classes to protect inanimate objects from the chilling cold.


When the time comes to return back home I feel like breathing in the cold mountain air and taking in the sights and sounds of the market and the Bazaar. My stride is leisurely but I can sense that it is also brisk , even as the the warm breath from my mouth rises above in the cold air and disappears without a trace.