The shop was already shrouded in a reputation for excellence, a reputation I believed would elevate my own standing as well, adhering to the ancient proverb that asserts, "Protect your reputation with your life." A hub of opportunities, this place would serve double duty as my home, my workspace, and my sanctuary.
"Isn't that wild?" exclaimed Rahul, my friend, genuine admiration dancing in his eyes as he absorbed my calculated moves. "But the tale about the King…" he began, trailing off with an edge of disbelief.
I interrupted, fear gripping his heart, "That was a fabricated lie. A necessary deception."
Rahul fell silent, his face caught in an expression of shock as confusion clouded his mind. Considering the weight of invoking the King's name for personal gain—such an act could mean death in this kingdom. Yet, that vastness hadn't seized my thoughts; not when I entered this ancient land and recognized its potential. I had planted a bold flag of ambition, vowing to grow wealthy as if swimming in riches, to gain power that could elevate me to the side of my beloved Princess Devi. Achieving that dream necessitated navigating between strength and subtlety, knowing precisely when to act like a force of nature and when to flow like wind through trees.
Just then, the clamor of activity shifted my focus; the Sahukaar and his servants were busily vacating the premises. The Sahukaar emerged, handing over the shop's credentials—nothing more than a piece of parchment that held our agreement, written in elegant Hindi. I passed it to Rahul, who, being local, understood its significance.
The paper, slightly tinged with age, was folded tightly like an ancient scroll. The pen used was crafted from the delicate feather of a bird, and the ink itself was a creative mixture made from the soot collected from ghee lamps or burning mustard oil and artfully gathered into copper bowls. They added a touch of gum extracted from trees, transforming the soot into a seamless blend, while fragrant water—often infused with petals of roses or the earthy scent of vetiver—enveloped every written word with a gentle embrace.
"Seems solid enough," Rahul mused, still grappling with his earlier confusion, a hesitant relief settling in.
With that, I offered my farewells. "I shall take my leave now," announced the Sahukaar, heading off to oversee the final details of his exodus. And there I stood, at the threshold of a new life, my heart aflame with possibilities.
So, what's next?" asked Rahul, his curiosity shining through his expression. "Next, we need to pick out some furniture for the shop," I replied, feeling a spark of excitement at the thought of curating the perfect pieces for our new venture. "I know just the place where we can find high-quality furniture at incredible prices. The shop owner is a good friend of mine, so I'm sure he'll give us even better rates." I looked at Rahul, and with a grin, he declared, "Well, that makes me happy since you're my friend now too!"
I couldn't help but smile at his warm words as I fell into step beside him, eager to begin this adventure. His stride was now filled with confidence as if he can do whatever he wants which makes me smile thinking about the future of this place. Before long, we arrived at our destination, and I was immediately taken aback by the sight that greeted us. The shop stood like a humble palace in miniature, its arched entrance crafted from red sandstone, adorned with intricate floral and geometric patterns that shimmered in the bright morning light, resembling whispers of the divine spilling into the world.
Glancing up, I noticed the sun hovering high in the sky—it must have been around 11:30 AM, as its rays began to feel decidedly unyielding. Stepping through the vibrant entrance of the shop, we were enveloped by an atmosphere that sparked the imagination. The air was thick with the rich aroma of oiled wood, mingling seamlessly with the sweet scent of burning sandalwood incense and the refreshing notes of camphor. Underfoot, the floor was made of compacted earth, meticulously swept and lovingly sprinkled with rosewater each dawn, a tradition that transformed the space into a fragrant sanctuary. The walls were constructed of mud plaster, seamlessly coated with a brilliant lime wash that gleamed, while beautifully painted murals depicted artisans lost in their craft—a proud testament to the legacy of the shop's master.
As I wandered further inside, my eyes feasted on the low wooden shelves and broad stone platforms that showcased an array of stunning furniture. There were intricately carved teak diwans, sturdy sal wood chests reinforced with iron rivets, and exquisite folding screens featuring delicate lattice work. Each piece exuded a sense of history and artistry, carved by hand with painstaking detail. Royal swings, or jhoolas, hung gracefully from the wooden beams above, their polished brass chains glinting in the light like the treasure of an emperor's court, evoking the elegance intended for queens and courtiers alike.
At that moment, I felt certain we had stumbled upon the right shop. Just then, Rahul stepped forward to greet the supervisor, joining his hands in a gesture of respect. "Pranam!" he said warmly. The supervisor mirrored his gesture, a smile spreading across his face. "Ah, Rahul! It's been a few days! What have you been up to?" he inquired.
"Oh, nothing much. Just helping my father manage the shop," Rahul replied nonchalantly. The supervisor's eyes shifted toward me, curiosity brewing in his gaze. "And who is this friend of yours?" he asked, a hint of intrigue in his voice.
As a never seen species before the supervisor was observing me up to down, may be thinking about what prince I am of.
"This is my friend; he's come from afar and is looking for furniture for his shop," Rahul explained, gesturing toward me. "I thought, why not bring him to you?"
"Ah, I see!" exclaimed the supervisor, his enthusiasm infectious. "What type of furniture are you looking for?"
"Oh, don't worry at all! You'll get exactly what you need at discounted rates since you're our kingdom's guest; it's our tradition!" the supervisor interrupted me with a flourish, his eyes sparkling with pride about the customs he upheld.
Here we go again, first traveller and now he who absolutely loves himself and his works.