I walk down the cobbled stairs,
Steadily the noise and the din rises,
Some scream out the names at your face,
while some yell the prices down your neck
A few sing out in their time-withered voice
Assuring you they have the fish of your choice


The big and the small
The fleshy and the thin
They have all the variety that you can think
Many cut, some whole and a few even wriggling in their tiny watery holes


Yet its not like the usual market place
No doubt the flies are plenty
And fishy smelly water dripping everywhere
The lanes are narrow, the space limited
Yet no border lines on the table sighted


Each call out to you to check their wares
Once there, the price might just catch you unawares
Its fresh, its out of season yet available, they argue
The best of the variety and quality and it's for you


But we also know the tricks of the trade
We haggle and bargain like a pro
But its only when we pretend to go
That they come in tow and happily
Into my bag the fish goes !!

-- Devikka Bantawa