Anarkali Bazaar

As Yasmeen lay in her bed, someone watched her. She opened an eye and peered across the room. Cousin Noor stood at the edge of the bed, holding a piece of food in her hands. The food was carefully wrapped in a paper towel. Noor took a bite while Yasmeen awakened from her slumber. The smell of fried egg, cheese, and mushroom filled the air.
“What are you eating?”
“Samosas,” replied Noor.
Yasmeen crawled out of bed as Aunt Seema worked in the kitchen. She tended two separate cooking pans. In one pan, she prepared scrambled eggs. In the other, she deep-fried the Samosas. The smell alone was enough to drive Yasmeen out of bed. She was eager to eat Aunt Semma’s breakfast Samosas.
Aunt Seema fried the eggs while she rolled out the dough, cutting it into two half-circles. She formed each half-circle into a pastry cone. After she forned the cones, she stuffed them.
“What would you like in your Samosa?” asked Aunt Seema.
Yasmeen looked over the ingredients. “Potatoes and green peppers.”
“A traditionalist, I see,” replied Aunt Seema. She dumped potato and green pepper cubes into a mixing bowl with celery seed, cumin, chili powder, salt, and pepper. She blended the ingredients with a wooden spoon, adding goat’s milk to make the mixture thick and creamy. She then formed a pastry cone and filled it with the mixture.
Afterwards, she carefully pressed the edges together, forming a hot pocket of food.
“Would you like to place them in the oil?”
“May I?” asked Yasmeen.
“Here you go.”
Yasmeen plucked each doughy packet from her Aunt’s hand, dropping them into hot oil. They bubbled and cooked until they were golden brown. Aunt Seema fished the Samosas out of the oil and placed them on a paper towel to drain.
“They look delicious,” said Yasmeen.
“They are,” said Mrs. Bajwa as she came in from the living room to investigate. Yasmeen reached for a Samosa before her Aunt shooed her aweay.
“Wait for it to cool or you’ll burn your tongue.”
Yasmeen waited (quite patiently) and then picked up a Samosa. She juggled it from hand-to-hand since they were still hot. She blew on theSamosa for a little while longer. Finally, after the Samosa was cool enough to eat, The outer crust flaked off as she took a generous bite. The potato-green pepper mixed was rich and hearty. The spices gave it a smoky flavor.
“Ohhh,” groaned Yasmeen, “it’s delightful.”
Noor hurried through her breakfast Samosas. She pushed Yasmeen to eat hers quickly, too. She was ready to go shopping with her cousin and Aunt.
Yasmeen changed into a pair of jeans and her favorite blue Kurti. She wrapped her Dupatta scarf around her neck. Now, she was ready to go shopping. Noor changed her clothes, too. She pulled on a Georgette suit. It wasn’t a suit at all, but a fancy silk blouse just like a Kurti. The Georgette Suit was fancier, with long, frilly sleeves and cloth-covered buttons along the front.
Yasmeen rubbed her fingers over Noor’s suit sleeves. It felt like crepe paper, rough, but smooth. Yasmeen was jealous. Her mother or father would never let her have something that fancy.
“I love Georgette Suits.”
“Would you like to wear one of mine? We’re just about the same size.”
Yasmeen went through Noor’s wardrobe. “No, I don’t think so,” she said with a sadness in her voice.
The girls went outside, where their mothers waited by the car. Khan was waiting in the front seat. He leaned his head against the edge of the open window. Noor leaned towards the car and spoke.
“Are you going, too?”
Little Khan nodded.
“You’ll have fun shopping with us,” she said, “we’ll spoil you rotten.”
Khan imagined a barrel of rotten apples, with worms crawling in and out. He scrunched his nose.
“It’s just a saying,” smiled his mother, “now do me a favor and sit in the back seat with Noor and Yasmeen.”
Khan groaned.
“Go on.”
Everyone piled into the car. Mrs. Bajwa and Aunt Seema sat up front, while Khan sat in back with the girls. He picked a window seat, which was okay with Yasmeen. She preferred chatting with her cousin anyway.
“What kind of things are at the bazaar?” asked Noor.
“”All sorts of things,” replied Yasmeen, “There are copper pots, fresh fruit stands, and Pakistani rugs, of course.”
“I meant clothes.”
“There are saris, dresses, kameezes, and imported silk, too.”
“Now that’s what I call shopping,” laughed Noor.
To Yasmeen, Noor was so sophisticated. She lived in Delhi and always talked about giant buildings and busy shopping malls. She also wore fancy dresses and beautiful jewelry.
Yasmeen’s mother always disapproved of “grown-up things.” Yasmeen sure felt like a little girl whenever her mother was around. However, when Cousin Noor visited, she felt free. Her Aunt’s “wild ways” always rubbed off on Yasmeen’s mother. For that, Yasmeen was thankful.
Once Mrs. Bajwa parked the car, everyone hurried to Anarkali. The crowds had already gathered around the trader’s tables. Women sorted through the clothes while men sorted through the fine leather belts and shoes. Street vendors sold kebabs, too. Thick gray smoke rose from their carts.
“Stay near,” said Mrs. Bajwa. She tugged Khan by the hand as he tugged back. He wanted to hang out with his older sister instead.
Inside Anarkali Bazaar, it was just as busy. Noor pushed through the crowds, dragging Yasmeen along behind her. Khan pulled away from his mother’s grasp.
“Yasmeen! Get your brother!” she called.
Yasmeen grabbed Khan and tugged him along. Meanwhle, Mrs. Bajwa, and Aunt Seema lagged behind, patiently waiting for foot traffic.
Booths were set up alongside a narrow walkway. The fine silk clothing draped over hangers fluttered in the air. A traffic jam of shoppers stopped at every booth, looking through the merchandise. As the girls went from one clothing store to the next, Khan found places to sit or lean. It wasn’t until they went into the stall where large copper kettles were stacked that Khan wasn’t bored.
“What are these?” he asked.
“They’re cooking pots,” replied Yasmeen.
“Oh. I thought they were musical instruments,” he said.
Yasmeen squinted her face. “Musical instruments?”
Khan flicked one of the copper pots with his finger. A metallic chime rose through the air.
“Of course, like kettle drums. But where have you seen a kettle drum?” Yasmeen asked.
“I’ve seen the Sufi drummers,” said Khan.
“Sufi drummers don’t use kettle drums,” said Noor.
“Yeah, usually Sufi drummers use one long drum,” added Yasmeen, “made from a hollowed out log covered with sheepskin.”
“This sounds like that, right?” said Khan.
He plucked his fingers rapidly on the kettle. It did sound like the syncopated beat of a Sufi drummer, fast and rhythmic. As soon as his mother arrived, Khan quit drumming.
“Those aren’t drums,” scolded his mother.
“It’s okay, said the merchant, “I thought it was pleasant.”
“I thought it sounded like someone dropping dishes,” replied Mrs. Bajwa.
Khan tucked his hands in his pocket and followed along silently as they went to the women’s clothing store next door.
Khan sat in the chair by the door as the girls looked at clothes. There were many pretty Georgette Suits, like the one Noor was wearing. Most were made from brightly colored silk. Obviously, it was springtime, because when spring came, so did the bright and fancy clothing.
The mannequin in the center of the store was dressed in a Georgette Suit, too. It was raindow-colored with tiny bits of glitter woven into the fabric. Yasmeen grabbed a sleeve and ran her fingers across the fabric. It was made of fine chiffon, which had a grainy texture.
“It’s beautiful,” said Yasmeen.
“You should try it on,” said Cousin Noor.
“I can’t.”
“Of course you can.”
“No, I shouldn’t.”
“Why shouldn’t you?”
Mrs. Bajwa and Aunt Seema entered the store and Yasmeen turned her attention to a yellow kameez folded on the shelf.
“Do you like it?” asked Aunt Seema.
Yasmeen nodded.
“She really likes the one up there,” pointed Noor.
“That one would look great on her. It would show off her beautiful shape and pretty hair.”
“You should try it on,” said Noor.
Yasmeen glanced towards her mother.
“I see what’s going on,” said Aunt Seema.
“This is not your discussion, Seema. Yasmeen already has a Sari just like it at home.”
Aunt Seema turned towards Yasmeen. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Yellow.”
“Perfect! Basant is coming up. What better time to try on a Bright Yellow Geoorgette Suit for the holiday.” Aunt Seema grabbed a yellow suit and placed it into her niece’s hands. Before Mrs. Bajwa could open her mouth, Aunt Seema shooed Yasmeen toward the fitting room.
Yasmeen stepped into the fitting room alone. Before she did anything, she pressed the pretty yellow Georgette Suit against her front side and looked in the mirror. “It did look lovely,” thought Yasmeen. Quickly, she changed out of her old blue Kurti, leaving it crumpled on the floor. As the new outfit slid over her body, it even felt new. Yasmeen looked into the mirror.
“How are you doing in there?” asked Aunt Seema.
Yasmeen remained quiet. She stared at the girl in the mirror and smiled. An outfit like that would be stunning. If she wore it to schoool, all the other girls would want one, too. Then, she thought about her mother…and her father. A bit of tears welled up in her eyes. She bit her lip until the feeling subsided.
“Come out and show us!” said her Aunt.
Yasmeen opened the door. Cousin Noor’s mouth dropped open as she saw her cousin in the bright yellow Georgette Suit.
“What did I tell you?” announced Aunt Seema.
Khan stood up and peered through the clothing aisles. Mrs. Bajwa turned around, too. It was as if the world around Yasmeen stopped spinning for just a few seconds.
“Well?” said Aunt Seema.
Yasmeen shook her head. “Well, what?”
“Do you like it?”
Yasmeen nodded meekly. Before the tears came up again, she headed for the fitting room door.
“Stop for a second,” said Mrs. Bajwa.
Yasmeen glanced back at her mother.
“I know I shouldn’t be doing this but…do you want it?”
Yasmeen stood frozen.
“Do you?”
“What about father?”
“Just answer me. Do you want it or not?”
“Yes, yes, oh yes, I want it!” exclaimed Yasmeen.
“Then I’ll buy it for you.”
“But what about father?” she asked again.
“You worry about changing out of the new outfit. I’ll worry about your father.”
Throughout the remainder of the afternoon, Yasmeen watched everyone else trying on new clothes. Mrs. Bajwa also bought a new kameez for herself. It was bright green. Just before Anarkali Bazaar closed, they returned to Mr. Bajwa’s rug store on the far side of the mall. He was sitting alone in his store.
“I’m so very glad you’re here. I’ve had a very boring day. I guess nobody is in the mood to buy carpets.”
“Maybe they’re all buying Georgette Suits like my mother,” said Khan.
“Shhh!” scolded his mother.
“A Georgette Suit? For Yasmeen?”
“I thought it was time she had a fancy outfit. She is growing up to be a young lady,” said Mrs. Bajwa.
Mr Bajwa itched the top of his scalp through his knitted skullcap.
“It’s not that she’s not growing up. It’s just that Georgette Suits are for older girls.”
Yasmeen frowned as she peered down towards her shopping bag.
“Well, let me see it,” said Mr. Bajwa.
Yasmeen fished the outfit from the bag and presented it to her father. He ran his fingers across the seams as he checked the stitches.
“You should have let me go shopping with you,” he said.
“Shopping is no place for a man,” said Aunt Seema.
“I suppose you’re right,” said Mr. Bajwa, He held the bright yellow outfit in front of his daughter.
“Isn’t yellow your favorite color?”
Yasmeen nodded.
“Yellow is my favorite color, too. I think it would look swell on you,” said Mr. Bajwa. Mrs. Bajwa let out a heavy sigh.
“What was that for?”
“I didn’t know what you were going to say,” said Mrs. Bajwa.
“What should I say? Your sister is right. Yasmeen is growing up and as she does, she can’t wear clothes like this blue kameez forever. Besides, it’s almost time for Basant.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” said Yasmeen.
“Just shows you got your good taste from your father.”
Mrs. Bajwa rolled her eyes.
Yasmeen stuffed her new Georgette Suit carefully into her shopping bag and set it near the door. She grabbed a broom and did what she always did at her father’s store at the end of the day: she swept, with help from her little brother.
Mr. Bajwa rolled up the carpets and Mrs. Bajwa counted the receipts as Cousin Noor and Aunt Seema watched. Afterwards, Mr. Bajwa turned off the lights and locked the doors.
“Good night, store. I will see you in the morning.”
The ride home was crowded. Aunt Seema joined the girls in the back while Khan moved from one person’s bony knee to another. Lickly, it was a short ride home. Everyone hopped out of the car and got ready for evening prayers and then dinner after that.
At the end of the night, Yasmeen removed one of her kurtis from its hangers. She placed her new Georgette Suit on the hanger and sat on the edge of the bed. After awhile, Noor came in from the living room and sat beside her.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“It sure is,” said Noor.
“You’re right.”
“About what?”
“About clothes.”
“What do you mean?” asked Noor.
“Now that’s shopping,” said Yasmeen.
Noor bumped shoulders with her cousin as the two giggled and gossiped. In the living room, Mrs. Bajwa sat with her sister, curious about her rowdy daughter and niece.
“What are you up to?” she asked from the doorway.
“Nothing,” replied Yasmeen.
“The two of you are sure are making lots of noise for nothing.”
“She was just telling me how she wanted to fill her closet with Georgette Suits.”
“Let’s take it one step at a time, shall we?” said Mrs. Bajwa.
The girls nodded.
“Now off to bed you go,” she said.Yasmeen opened the bedroom window as usual and tucked herself into bed. The girls changed into their pajamas and chatted quietly among themselves. Raindrops pattered on the window and a chilly wind blew across the top of Yasmeen’s quilt. She sighed as she tucked her nose under the edge of the blanket. She didn’t think she could wait for spring very much longer.