It was around 4,000 years ago that I walked on a curvy dusty path toward a booming market right in the shadows of a tall, towering fortress. My body was sweating from places that I didn’t know existed, still, I took wide steps with my chest out and chin high, confident even though I was entering a centuries-old market.
Markets
No matter what period of human history we are in, markets have always been a meeting place of two parties; the buyers and sellers. The sellers always try to compete for the buyer’s attention using various methods like thunderous calls, bold and colorful signage, or, in the case of bakers and fishermen, the enticing aroma of their products. The buyers are always busy evaluating the various products on display while the sellers are busy evaluating the buyers; their social status, their buying power, and their overall interest in the products they sell. Some merchants called out to me, but I was not there to buy anything. Nothing, for me, was attractive enough to buy in this centuries-old marketplace.
The Naughty Wind
And then, amongst all the hustle and bustle, there was the naughty wind. Completely free from any sense of urgency or responsibility. Blowing around without any pattern or design, just like a small child who runs around aimlessly all day round. The wind was playing with tiny dust particles when it saw me and decided that I was ready to play – with a gush it tried to blow my hat, but I caught it in time.
‘Well, if it wanted to play then let the games begin’, I told myself.
I stretched my arms, telling the wind to bring it on. After a few light gushes, I gave the wind a mocking smile. Angry, it desperately tried to increase its intensity but there were just too many people and shops, who resisted the wind and supplied cover to me. Finally, the wind gave up. I smiled and confidently walked deeper into the market.
The Old Man with Penetrating Eyes.
A few meters inside the market I noticed an old man. He was sitting on the edge of a cabin, his legs hanging over the edge while his arms supplied support. His cabin had some sort of spices, but he didn’t look very keen on selling them. His face had an unkempt beard and a blank expression. I tried to look away from him, but there was something familiar about him. Maybe it was his eyes. Dark, murky but shining, telling his life story and the things he had done. Things he could have avoided but didn’t. Things he would probably do again if he had power in his limbs. He looked scary but I knew that he could do me no harm. Confident, I walked up to him and pointed towards the fortress asking for its entrance. He pointed towards his right and then looked away from me.
The Entrance and the Enchanting Arches
The fort was surrounded by a deep moat all around its strong impenetrable walls. A wooden bridge took me over the moat and into the fortress. Inside, I could see many crowded passages and openings, except for one passage which had diamond-shaped arches made from stone bricks. The arches had a pointed tip, pointing towards the blue sky. Its artistic nature looked odd in an otherwise box-shaped fortress; a fortress probably built to protect rather than amuse.
The entrance to the passage was manned by two guards in smart red and brown uniforms, spears in their hands and armor on their chests. I walked up to them, but they pointed me towards another passage which felt like nothing but a dark tunnel. I was not amused as I wanted to see the arches from a closer range. I looked inside the dead eyes of the guards till a soft voice called out to them. I couldn’t recognize the language, but it was unmistakably that of a young lady asking the guards to let me in. As I stepped inside, my eyes fell upon the gracious figure who had allowed access to me.
She sat gracefully on one of the stone recesses, draped in a regal purple and white gown. A small canvas rested on her lap, her skilled fingers busy sketching the intricate outlines of the very arches that rose above me. I marveled at the geometrical symmetry of the arches and their timeless beauty. Upon seeing my amazement her expression radiated with pride, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she had been its designer.
I pointed towards the arches and then gently towards her, raising an unspoken question.
She responded with a nod, her lips curved in a proud, confident smile.
I tilted my head to the right and gave a gesture of admiration.
In response, her smile widened acknowledging my praise.
Centuries would pass but people would still admire these diamond-shaped arches.
Me & The Wind
I walked through the passage and climbed a few stairs and was on the top of the eastern wall of the fortress. There were many guards there, but none bothered to stop or question me. Probably only royalty could have passed through these stairs, so they didn’t bother.
I stopped for a breather on the eastern wall when the naughty wind recognized me and came swishing around me with all its force. In one swift motion, my hat was dislodged from my head and away it went. I laughed and tried to catch it, but every time I came near my hat, the wind would come back and blow it a few more inches, away from me.
Seeing me playing in one of the more secure passages, a guard called me out. I stopped in my tracks. The wind, too, stopped, as if realizing like a naughty boy that something had gone amiss, and punishment was on the way. Like a remorseful child, the wind returned my hat which I quickly put on my head. Three guards moved towards me from each side intending to arrest me. I didn’t actually understand what the fuss was about, and I was not afraid. As they moved towards me, I looked towards them. They stared back at me with their dead eyes. I smiled and snapped my fingers which made them vanish into thin air.
I looked around, I was all alone on the eastern wall. The calm waves moved from one part of the enticing blue sea towards the shore. A few boats were docked on the shore far away. I returned my gaze to the emerald blue sea where the sun was setting, casting a wonderful reflection. A view that never ceases to marvel no matter how many times you have seen it.
The ‘Nobility’
After spending a few moments on the eastern wall, I took a flight of stairs into a narrow passage, which then opened into a wide courtyard. The courtyard was full of small but richly designed shops, neatly arranged in columns and rows, with enough room to walk. It looked like an orderly and organized version of the marketplace outside. This probably was the market for the rich and elite. The merchants too looked sophisticated and well-mannered. They greeted their patrons with a short slow bow and a smile.
Besides the rich merchants and the lavishly dressed nobility, there were many slave men and women, busy with various tasks, which they carried out with serious and humorless expressions. At the far end, I could see a worker bringing a heavy sack of spices through a flight of stairs. Towards the right of the courtyard, a slave woman struggled to hold a naughty child, while the child’s mother, unconcerned, walked a few meters ahead. Suddenly, the child broke from the stranglehold of his nanny and ran straight towards the worker carrying the heavy sack of spices. It was inevitable. He crashed into the worker who lost control of the heavy sack. The sack was about to fall on the child, when the worker, just in time, pushed it away from the child. The child was saved but the entire content of the sack was spilled on a man dressed in nobility. The entire market paused for a while and then started laughing at the sight; delighted that the prompt action of the slave had saved the child but had turned a man of nobility into a canvas of multiple colors.
However, the ‘noble’ man didn’t like what had happened and in order to keep his pride, he started shouting at the worker. It was quite clear that nobility is not in clothes, privilege, or wealth. But very few noble people realize that. Anger, when not checked on time, can lead to catastrophes, as was about to happen. The begging worker and a few merchants trying to diffuse the situation, could not stop the nobleman from pulling out his dagger. He raised his dagger and was about to spill blood to quench the thirst of his pride when I snapped my fingers and made his dagger disappear. Surprised, the man looked towards me. The worker was still begging for forgiveness but now the entire market was looking at me; the merchants, the slaves, the royalty – even the nanny and the child. I looked towards my feet and swooshed my hand. As I looked up, the entire market and everyone inside of it had disappeared.
Built To Last
It was a hot and humid day. I was standing in the middle of the ruins of a once-impregnable fortress. All around me were crumbling walls desperately trying to hold up the weight of history and intrigue. In a matter of seconds, I had traversed a chasm of 4,000 years. Traveling through imagination is remarkably swift and endlessly enjoyable. Beyond the now-empty courtyard, I could see the towering fortresses of the modern era.
Just like the crumbling fortress I stood on, were they too ‘Built to last?’
I strolled through the remains of the grand fortress; the courtyard, the diamond-shaped arches, the thick walls desperately held up by steel bars, the doors, the passages, and the moat. Once, the fortress would have hosted nobles, the elite, and the merchants. Slaves would have walked through its passages and the guards would have secured its walls. It would have witnessed bustling markets, melodious songs, joyous dances, and lively festivals. It would have seen politics, conflicts, and wars. Yet, today, it lay in ruins.
Perhaps its architects and builders would have told their patrons that the fortress was built to last. Yet, the relentless passage of time had reduced its impregnability to a captivating array of ruins.
The Old Man with the Penetrating Eyes
I walked out of the fortress. The old marketplace had vanished leaving behind crumbling ruins. I rounded a corner, and a gentle cool breeze caressed my neck and back. Unlike the naughty wind from my imaginary world, it didn’t try to blow my hat away. I was enjoying the nice breeze when I noticed him walking towards me; the old man with the wild, penetrating eyes from the old market. He walked a determined stride with an expression conveying urgency and intensity, prompting me to ask myself.
How did this man survive, when I had swished everyone away?
I snapped my fingers, clapped my hands, and blinked my eyes desperately; trying to make him disappear. Yet, he persisted, steadily drawing nearer. He grasped my shoulders firmly, his eyes ablaze with purpose. In that moment of intense closeness, I realized who he truly was – me. The face behind the wrinkles and the beard, the protruding cheekbones were all mine from a few years in the future.
His voice echoed with a sense of urgency as he repeated multiple times.
‘Don’t you see? Don’t you realize?’
I asked, my voice hesitant and meek, “What?” even though I already knew the answer that my future self sought. The impending weight of the answer was already pressing down upon me.
‘From dust everything was created, to dust everything would return. Everything! Even you! Even you’, he said and vanished into thin air.
I stood there, immobilized, as if under an enchanting spell. The cool wind still blew around me, yet its touch felt distant and insignificant. Past, present, and future, all danced before my eyes in a haunting symphony. In a fleeting moment, I confronted an epiphany that had eluded me for years. I had walked on dust all through my life with an unwavering confidence; chest out, chin high. Yet, just like these crumbling walls, I too would turn into dust – walked upon by men with unwavering confidence; chests out and chins high…
As I walked through the crumbling walls of the Bahrain Fort, I couldn’t help but imagine how strong this fort would once have been. I moved, with the help of my imagination, 4,000 years back when the fort would have stood in all its newly-built glory. Strong and impregnable. Maybe a bit similar to how I think of myself, today. But like this fort, I too, would one day crumble and vanish. Even my traces will be forgotten. I thought to write about it as flash fiction. Hope it helps as I pray that it will help me. Do write in comments about similar experiences you might have had.