Search icon An illustration of a magnifying glass. User icon An illustration of a person's head and chest. Sign up Log in. Web icon An illustration of a computer application window Wayback Machine Texts icon An illustration of an open book. Books Video icon An illustration of two cells of a film strip. The Valkyries by Paulo Coelho.
Adultery by Paulo Coelho. Aleph by Paulo Coelho. Warrior of the Light by Paulo Coelho. Maktub by Paulo Coelho. The wind began to pick up. He knew that wind: people called it the levanter, because on it the Moors had come from the Levant at the eastern end of the Mediterranean. The levanter increased in intensity. He had to choose between something he had become accustomed to and something he wanted to have. I left my father, my mother, and the town castle be- hind.
They have gotten used to my being away, and so have I. The sheep will get used to my not being there, too, the boy thought. From where he sat, he could observe the plaza.
A young couple sat on the bench where he had talked with the old man, and they kissed. The levanter was still getting stronger, and he felt its force on his face. That wind had brought the Moors, yes, but it had also brought the smell of the desert and of veiled women. It had brought with it the sweat and the dreams of men who had once left to search for the unknown, and for gold and adven- ture—and for the Pyramids. The boy felt jealous of the freedom of the wind, and saw that he could have the same freedom.
There was nothing to hold him back ex- cept himself. The next day, the boy met the old man at noon. He brought six sheep with him. He said that he had al- ways dreamed of being a shepherd, and that it was a good omen. The old woman had said the same thing.
God has prepared a path for everyone to follow. You just have to read the omens that he left for you. Like crickets, and like grasshoppers; like lizards and four-leaf clovers. These are good omens. The old man wore a breastplate of heavy gold, covered with precious stones. The boy re- called the brilliance he had noticed on the previous day. He really was a king! He must be disguised to avoid encounters with thieves.
Always ask an objective question. The treasure is at the Pyramids; that you already knew. But I had to insist on the payment of six sheep because I helped you to make your decision. From then on, he would make his own decisions. It was there that the wise man lived. He suggested that the boy look around the palace and return in two hours.
After two hours, he returned to the room where the wise man was. Did you see the garden that it took the master gardener ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library? His only concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise man had entrusted to him. Upon returning to the wise man, he related in detail everything he had seen. He had understood the story the old king had told him. A shepherd may like to travel, but he should never forget about his sheep.
Then, taking his sheep, he walked away. From atop its walls, one can catch a glimpse of Africa. All they wanted was food and water. Melchizedek watched a small ship that was plowing its way out of the port.
He would never again see the boy, just as he had never seen Abraham again after hav- ing charged him his one-tenth fee. That was his work.
But the king of Salem hoped desperately that the boy would be successful. I should have repeated it for him. Then when he spoke about me he would say that I am Melchizedek, the king of Salem. But an old king sometimes has to take some pride in himself. He was sitting in a bar very much like the other bars he had seen along the narrow streets of Tangier.
Some men were smoking from a gigantic pipe that they passed from one to the other. The boy felt ill and terribly alone. Besides this, in the rush of his travels he had forgot- ten a detail, just one detail, which could keep him from his treasure for a long time: only Arabic was spoken in this country. The owner of the bar approached him, and the boy pointed to a drink that had been served at the next table.
It turned out to be a bitter tea. The boy preferred wine. What he had to be concerned about was his treasure, and how he was going to go about getting it. The sale of his sheep had left him with enough money in his pouch, and the boy knew that in money there was magic; whoever has money is never really alone. Before long, maybe in just a few days, he would be at the Pyra- mids.
He had discovered that the presence of a cer- tain bird meant that a snake was nearby, and that a certain shrub was a sign that there was water in the area. The sheep had taught him that. If God leads the sheep so well, he will also lead a man, he thought, and that made him feel better. The tea seemed less bitter.
The boy was relieved. He was thinking about omens, and someone had appeared. The new arrival was a young man in Western dress, but the color of his skin suggested he was from this city. He was about the same age and height as the boy. I hate this tea. He almost began to tell about his treasure, but decided not to do so. I can pay you to serve as my guide.
The boy noticed that the owner of the bar stood nearby, listening attentively to their conversation. I need to know whether you have enough. But he trusted in the old man, who had said that, when you really want something, the universe always conspires in your favor. He took his money from his pouch and showed it to the young man. The owner of the bar came over and looked, as well. The two men exchanged some words in Arabic, and the bar owner seemed irritated.
He got up to pay the bill, but the owner grabbed him and began to speak to him in an angry stream of words. His new friend pushed the owner aside, and pulled the boy outside with him. This is a port, and every port has its thieves. He had helped him out in a dangerous situation. He took out his money and counted it. Everywhere there were stalls with items for sale. They reached the center of a large plaza where the market was held. There were thousands of people there, arguing, selling, and buying; vegetables for sale amongst daggers, and carpets displayed alongside to- bacco.
But the boy never took his eye off his new friend. After all, he had all his money. He thought about asking him to give it back, but decided that would be unfriendly. He knew nothing about the cus- toms of the strange land he was in. He knew he was stronger than his friend. Suddenly, there in the midst of all that confusion, he saw the most beautiful sword he had ever seen. The boy promised himself that, when he returned from Egypt, he would buy that sword.
Then he realized that he had been distracted for a few moments, looking at the sword. His heart squeezed, as if his chest had suddenly compressed it. He continued to look at the beautiful sword for a bit longer, until he summoned the courage to turn around.
All around him was the market, with people coming and going, shouting and buying, and the aroma of strange foods. The boy wanted to believe that his friend had simply become separated from him by accident. He decided to stay right there and await his return. As he waited, a priest climbed to the top of a nearby tower and began his chant; everyone in the market fell to their knees, touched their foreheads to the ground, and took up the chant.
Then, like a colony of worker ants, they dis- mantled their stalls and left. The sun began its departure, as well. The boy watched it through its trajectory for some time, until it was hidden behind the white houses surrounding the plaza. He was no longer a shepherd, and he had nothing, not even the money to return and start everything over. All this happened between sunrise and sunset, the boy thought.
He was feeling sorry for himself, and lamenting the fact that his life could have changed so suddenly and so drastically. He was so ashamed that he wanted to cry. He had never even wept in front of his own sheep. But the marketplace was empty, and he was far from home, so he wept.
He wept because God was unfair, and because this was the way God repaid those who believed in their dreams. When I had my sheep, I was happy, and I made those around me happy. People saw me coming and welcomed me, he thought.
But all he found was the heavy book, his jacket, and the two stones the old man had given him. As he looked at the stones, he felt relieved for some reason. He had exchanged six sheep for two precious stones that had been taken from a gold breastplate. He could sell the stones and buy a return ticket. This was a port town, and the only truthful thing his friend had told him was that port towns are full of thieves.
Now he understood why the owner of the bar had been so upset: he was trying to tell him not to trust that man. They were his treasure. Just handling them made him feel better. They reminded him of the old man. The boy was trying to understand the truth of what the old man had said. There he was in the empty marketplace, without a cent to his name, and with not a sheep to guard through the night. The old man had said to ask very clear questions, and to do that, the boy had to know what he wanted.
He took out one of the stones. He stuck his hand into the pouch, and felt around for one of the stones. As he did so, both of them pushed through a hole in the pouch and fell to the ground.
The boy had never even noticed that there was a hole in his pouch. But as he saw them lying there on the ground, another phrase came to his mind. An omen. The boy smiled to himself. He picked up the two stones and put them back in his pouch. He looked around at the empty plaza again, feeling less desperate than before.
After all, what he had always wanted was just that: to know new places. Even if he never got to the Pyra- mids, he had already traveled farther than any shepherd he knew. Oh, if they only knew how different things are just two hours by ship from where they are, he thought. Although his new world at the moment was just an empty marketplace, he had already seen it when it was teeming with life, and he would never forget it.
He remembered the sword. It hurt him a bit to think about it, but he had never seen one like it before. As he mused about these things, he realized that he had to choose between thinking of himself as the poor victim of a thief and as an adventurer in quest of his treasure. He had fallen asleep in the middle of the marketplace, and life in the plaza was about to resume.
Looking around, he sought his sheep, and then real- ized that he was in a new world. He no longer had to seek out food and water for the sheep; he could go in search of his treasure, instead. He had not a cent in his pocket, but he had faith. He had decided, the night before, that he would be as much an adventurer as the ones he had admired in books. He walked slowly through the market. The mer- chants were assembling their stalls, and the boy helped a candy seller to do his.
His smile reminded the boy of the old man—the mysterious old king he had met. He realized that he could do the same thing the old man had done—sense whether a person was near to or far from his Personal Legend. Just by looking at them. The boy thanked him, ate it, and went on his way. When he had gone only a short distance, he realized that, while they were erecting the stall, one of them had spoken Arabic and the other Spanish.
And they had understood each other perfectly well. He was learning a lot of new things. He realized: If I can learn to under- stand this language without words, I can learn to understand the world. Relaxed and unhurried, he resolved that he would walk through the narrow streets of Tangier.
Only in that way would he be able to read the omens. He knew it would require a lot of patience, but shepherds know all about patience. Once again he saw that, in that strange land, he was applying the same lessons he had learned with his sheep. He had been in the same place for thirty years: a shop at the top of a hilly street where few customers passed.
There had been a time when many people knew of his shop: Arab merchants, French and English geologists, German soldiers who were always well- heeled. In those days it had been wonderful to be sell- ing crystal, and he had thought how he would become rich, and have beautiful women at his side as he grew older. But, as time passed, Tangier had changed. The nearby city of Ceuta had grown faster than Tangier, and business had fallen off.
Neighbors moved away, and there remained only a few small shops on the hill. And no one was going to climb the hill just to browse through a few small shops. But the crystal merchant had no choice. He had lived thirty years of his life buying and selling crystal pieces, and now it was too late to do anything else. He spent the entire morning observing the infre- quent comings and goings in the street. He had done this for years, and knew the schedule of everyone who passed.
But, just before lunchtime, a boy stopped in front of the shop. He was dressed normally, but the practiced eyes of the crystal merchant could see that the boy had no money to spend. Nevertheless, the mer- chant decided to delay his lunch for a few minutes until the boy moved on.
The boy saw a man appear behind the counter. Taking the jacket out, he began to clean the glasses. In half an hour, he had cleaned all the glasses in the window, and, as he was doing so, two cus- tomers had entered the shop and bought some crystal. When he had completed the cleaning, he asked the man for something to eat. As they sat down at the only table in the place, the crystal merchant laughed. And both you and I needed to cleanse our minds of negative thoughts. In return, I need money to get to Egypt tomorrow.
There are thousands of kilometers of desert between here and there. No sound from the bazaars, no arguments among the merchants, no men climbing to the towers to chant. No hope, no adven- ture, no old kings or Personal Legends, no treasure, and no Pyramids. The merchant looked anxiously at the boy. All the joy he had seen that morning had suddenly disappeared. The boy said nothing. He got up, adjusted his cloth- ing, and picked up his pouch. The merchant spent the entire day mumbling behind the counter, telling the boy to be careful with the pieces and not to break anything.
But he stayed with the job because the merchant, al- though he was an old grouch, treated him fairly; the boy received a good commission for each piece he sold, and had already been able to put some money aside.
That morning he had done some calculating: if he con- tinued to work every day as he had been, he would need a whole year to be able to buy some sheep. He was selling better than ever. Why ask more out of life? But the merchant understood what the boy had said. He had assumed he would soon return to his sheep. The treasure was now nothing but a painful memory, and he tried to avoid thinking about it.
You could build one in your backyard. Two days later, the merchant spoke to the boy about the display. But we two have to live with our mistakes. The most important is to believe only in the one true God. He was a devout man, and, even with all his impatience, he wanted to live his life in ac- cordance with Muslim law. We are obliged, at least once in our lives, to visit the holy city of Mecca.
When I was young, all I wanted to do was put together enough money to start this shop. I began to make some money, but I could never bring myself to leave someone in charge of the shop; the crystals are delicate things. At the same time, people were passing my shop all the time, heading for Mecca.
They placed the symbols of the pilgrimage on the doors of their houses. One of them, a cobbler who made his living mending boots, said that he had traveled for almost a year through the desert, but that he got more tired when he had to walk through the streets of Tangier buying his leather. I just want to dream about Mecca. Not everyone can see his dreams come true in the same way. The boy esti- mated that, if he worked for six more months, he could return to Spain and buy sixty sheep, and yet another sixty.
Since that morning in the marketplace, he had never again made use of Urim and Thummim, be- cause Egypt was now just as distant a dream for him as was Mecca for the merchant. Anyway, the boy had be- come happy in his work, and thought all the time about the day when he would disembark at Tarifa as a winner. The boy knew, and was now working toward it. He was proud of himself.
The boy, accustomed to recognizing omens, spoke to the merchant. The people will enjoy the tea and want to buy the glasses. I have been told that beauty is the great seducer of men. I need to buy my sheep back, so I have to earn the money to do so. I know good crystal from bad, and everything else there is to know about crystal.
I know its dimensions and how it be- haves. If we serve tea in crystal, the shop is going to ex- pand. Before you came, I was thinking about how much time I had wasted in the same place, while my friends had moved on, and either went bankrupt or did better than they had before. It made me very depressed. The shop is exactly the size I always wanted it to be. But you are forcing me to look at wealth and at horizons I have never known.
They went on smoking the pipe for a while as the sun began to set. They were conversing in Arabic, and the boy was proud of himself for being able to do so. But they could never have taught him Arabic. All they ever do, really, is look for food and water. But there they saw a crystal shop that offered refreshing mint tea. They went in to drink the tea, which was served in beautiful crystal glasses.
The third said that it was a tradition in the Orient to use crystal glasses for tea because it had magical powers. Before long, the news spread, and a great many people began to climb the hill to see the shop that was doing something new in a trade that was so old.
Eventually, the merchant had to hire two more em- ployees. He began to import enormous quantities of tea, along with his crystal, and his shop was sought out by men and women with a thirst for things new.
And, in that way, the months passed. He dressed in his Arabian clothing of white linen, bought especially for this day. He put his headcloth in place and secured it with a ring made of camel skin. Wearing his new sandals, he descended the stairs silently. The city was still sleeping. He prepared himself a sandwich and drank some hot tea from a crystal glass. It was a bundle of money.
Enough to buy himself a hundred and twenty sheep, a return ticket, and a license to import products from Africa into his own country. He waited patiently for the merchant to awaken and open the shop. Then the two went off to have some more tea. And you have the money you need to go to Mecca.
Then he turned to the boy. And he gave the boy his blessing. It was bunched up, and he had hardly thought of it for a long time. Urim and Thummim. It made the boy think of the old king, and it startled him to realize how long it had been since he had thought of him.
For nearly a year, he had been working incessantly, thinking only of putting aside enough money so that he could return to Spain with pride.
He had worked hard for a year, and the omens were that it was time to go. His very first novel 'Khasakinte. Ithihasam' The Legends of Khasak with its dark milieu, broody mountains, strange characters and regenerative rains, was a. Click here for more details. Lokothara kathakal - gogol Malayalam? I felt like some kind of alchemist. Contact Us: [email protected] The Alchemists Ark team did market visits to study how end-customers buy, their buying Tamil and Malayalam.
Perunthachan, Sreejith. Short Stories. Whenever a new novel by Paulo Coelho is published, the global print-run of his books rises by several million within a week. Paulo Coelho is a phenomenon,.
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