Kalialaya - Part One
This is a fictional story, written from the dreams of Kalialaya.
----
Even from far away I could see the great white walls of Kalialaya. The bus stopped and opened its doors, the passengers streaming out excitedly. I could see the tops of the tall buildings within the city, gleaming and proud in the afternoon sunlight. I stepped off the bus and took a deep breath. The air felt cleaner here. Walking closer, I saw two pleasant looking men standing on either side of the ornate white gates. They had simple but clean light green tunics on and were greeting the new group of people waiting to get inside the gates. As I came up to them, the man on the right lifted his hand in hailing and walked toward me. I acknowledged him by also raising my hand and waving.
“Good afternoon, Miss. What brings you to Kalialaya?” He smiled.
“I’ve never been here before, and I’d like to see the city that everyone talks about.”
The man nodded, still smiling, and walked away from me, motioning for the others and I to follow. He called to the other man and they went to the middle of the gate and unlocked it, pushing it aside and calling for us to continue through. Resituating my backpack’s straps on my shoulders and letting the rest of the group get ahead of me, I noticed that the road had changed. Smooth, neatly laid out stones formed a cobblestone road that led further than my eye could see. Many people bustled about, but there was no angry shouting or crowds pushing to get on a bus. The sun was beginning to set, making the glass tops of some of the buildings shine with every shade of orange, yellow, purple, and pink; It was like a million reflections of the sunset. The road had small buildings on both sides, with brightly colored signs on the front of each one. Small groups of people dotted the sidewalks, talking amongst themselves and laughing loudly. Small rickshaws zipped past me in both directions and the orange and red cloth of the market tents in the middle of the street rose and fell with the light breeze. I could hear metal clanging together and the lilt of an old record playing somewhere nearby. I walked closer to the first tent and looked at all the intricately designed wooden carvings, painstakingly painted, that were laid out on brocades of red and yellow fabric. I picked up a carving in the likeness of Kali and ran the tips of my fingers over it lightly. I looked to the merchant - a short, elderly woman - and tried catching her attention.
“Pardon me, I’d like to buy this.” I held up the Kali figure.
The woman smirked and walked closer to me, taking the wood carving from my hands and looking it over.
“Fifteen hundred rupees, bujji.”
I took my backpack from my shoulders and rummaged around for the right amount of money and handed it to the woman, who handed Kali back to me.
“Be careful with her.” The woman said, winking before she turned to another customer.
I held Kali in my hands as I walked idly through the streets. The shops slowly faded into a residential area. The houses were simple but appealing with their bright colors. The doorsteps were particularly beautiful, I saw, with detailed powder art decorating the stone. I looked down at my little Kali and smiled. The light had grown very dim, the sky a light purple now.
“I suppose we should look for some food, huh?” I asked the carving.
I turned back and walked until I found an available rickshaw, and asked where the nearest restaurant was. The man grinned, saying it wasn’t too far away. In only a few minutes we were there, and I hopped out and paid the still grinning man. My stomach rumbled.
The strip was a brightly lit area, people wandering beneath the streetlights. The grocery stores were closed and the outdoor food markets had packed up and disappeared for the night, but most of the restaurants were still open. A few feet from me there was a band loudly performing a song with red faces and wide smiles which delighted their clapping audience.
I walked into the open doorway and a warm draft washed over me, carrying the spicy scents of Basmati rice with Navaratan Korma. I smiled and went to order my dinner.
----
Even from far away I could see the great white walls of Kalialaya. The bus stopped and opened its doors, the passengers streaming out excitedly. I could see the tops of the tall buildings within the city, gleaming and proud in the afternoon sunlight. I stepped off the bus and took a deep breath. The air felt cleaner here. Walking closer, I saw two pleasant looking men standing on either side of the ornate white gates. They had simple but clean light green tunics on and were greeting the new group of people waiting to get inside the gates. As I came up to them, the man on the right lifted his hand in hailing and walked toward me. I acknowledged him by also raising my hand and waving.
“Good afternoon, Miss. What brings you to Kalialaya?” He smiled.
“I’ve never been here before, and I’d like to see the city that everyone talks about.”
The man nodded, still smiling, and walked away from me, motioning for the others and I to follow. He called to the other man and they went to the middle of the gate and unlocked it, pushing it aside and calling for us to continue through. Resituating my backpack’s straps on my shoulders and letting the rest of the group get ahead of me, I noticed that the road had changed. Smooth, neatly laid out stones formed a cobblestone road that led further than my eye could see. Many people bustled about, but there was no angry shouting or crowds pushing to get on a bus. The sun was beginning to set, making the glass tops of some of the buildings shine with every shade of orange, yellow, purple, and pink; It was like a million reflections of the sunset. The road had small buildings on both sides, with brightly colored signs on the front of each one. Small groups of people dotted the sidewalks, talking amongst themselves and laughing loudly. Small rickshaws zipped past me in both directions and the orange and red cloth of the market tents in the middle of the street rose and fell with the light breeze. I could hear metal clanging together and the lilt of an old record playing somewhere nearby. I walked closer to the first tent and looked at all the intricately designed wooden carvings, painstakingly painted, that were laid out on brocades of red and yellow fabric. I picked up a carving in the likeness of Kali and ran the tips of my fingers over it lightly. I looked to the merchant - a short, elderly woman - and tried catching her attention.
“Pardon me, I’d like to buy this.” I held up the Kali figure.
The woman smirked and walked closer to me, taking the wood carving from my hands and looking it over.
“Fifteen hundred rupees, bujji.”
I took my backpack from my shoulders and rummaged around for the right amount of money and handed it to the woman, who handed Kali back to me.
“Be careful with her.” The woman said, winking before she turned to another customer.
I held Kali in my hands as I walked idly through the streets. The shops slowly faded into a residential area. The houses were simple but appealing with their bright colors. The doorsteps were particularly beautiful, I saw, with detailed powder art decorating the stone. I looked down at my little Kali and smiled. The light had grown very dim, the sky a light purple now.
“I suppose we should look for some food, huh?” I asked the carving.
I turned back and walked until I found an available rickshaw, and asked where the nearest restaurant was. The man grinned, saying it wasn’t too far away. In only a few minutes we were there, and I hopped out and paid the still grinning man. My stomach rumbled.
The strip was a brightly lit area, people wandering beneath the streetlights. The grocery stores were closed and the outdoor food markets had packed up and disappeared for the night, but most of the restaurants were still open. A few feet from me there was a band loudly performing a song with red faces and wide smiles which delighted their clapping audience.
I walked into the open doorway and a warm draft washed over me, carrying the spicy scents of Basmati rice with Navaratan Korma. I smiled and went to order my dinner.