Chapter 11a-The Quest for Iththar

The Bargaining for Iththar

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The Love For Iththar

Shehnaz had always harbored a deep fondness for iththar—that precious Arabian perfume oil. Her children shared this love, particularly her older one, who used it extensively and wore it with pride. No trip to the Middle East or India was complete without Shehnaz returning home with small, bottles of the oil for her family.

This time was different, though. She was on Umrah, and after completing her spiritual journey, she found herself looking for authentic iththar .

The Search

Shehnaz had been searching through the bustling markets of both Mecca and Madinah. She had assigned her friends to keep their eyes open, scanning shop after shop for that perfect scent. Yet everything she found disappointed her. The bottles contained the same commercial perfumes she could easily purchase back home —nothing special, nothing authentic.

She also encountered a new type of perfume that she disliked right away. These felt thick as wax, spreading like heavy cream and clinging stubbornly to the skin. The texture was all wrong. She hated them.

Day after day, the search yielded nothing. Shehnaz was on the verge of abandoning her quest entirely.

The Last Day

Their final day in Madinah arrived. The group went shopping, but Shehnaz's wasn't hunting for iththar anymore. She had nearly given up.

There last day in Madinah, Nazia needed to purchase an additional bag. The group made their way to a nearby shopping center—just one more stop before heading back to pack for their flight home.

Nazia quickly found the bag she wanted. And there, right next to the handbag section, there was a counter displaying bottles of iththar.

Two men stood behind the counter—a large, imposing man with a full beard, and beside him a strikingly handsome young man. As Shehnaz approached them, both men greeted her warmly.

"What are you looking for?" the older man asked in a kind voice.

Shehnaz explained: she wanted something for men, with a powerful, lasting aroma. Something authentic. Something real.

The Testing

The bearded man began presenting bottles, one after another. He would uncap each one, wave it gently, and offer it for Shehnaz to smell.

She responded honestly to each scent:

"Not strong enough."

"That has an unpleasant odor."

"Too floral—this is more feminine."

"Yes, this one is pleasant."

After several perfumes, the man handed Shehnaz a container of Nescafé coffee powder. She looked at him quizzically.

"To reset your nose," he explained with a slight smile. "So you can smell clearly again."

Shehnaz inhaled the coffee grounds, and her sense of smell sharpened once more. The testing continued. She kept smelling, acknowledging some with nods of approval, rejecting others with a shake of her head or a polite comment.

Finally, she had selected four different perfumes—four scents that spoke to her.

The Negotiation Begins

Now came the moment she both anticipated and dreaded: the price.

"Give me your discount price," Shehnaz said directly, not wanting to waste time.

The shopkeeper didn't hesitate. "Eight hundred riyals."

Shehnaz did the quick calculation in her head: roughly $215. Her eyes widened. That was far more than she had expected.

She excused herself and walked over to her friends—Nazia, Soni, and Saji—who were browsing nearby. They huddled together as Shehnaz explained the situation.

"That's fifty dollars per bottle," Nazia observed. "For four bottles, that's two hundred."

Soni and Saji both nodded in agreement—it was expensive, but not unreasonable for quality iththar.

But Shehnaz knew the truth: regardless of whether it was fair, she simply couldn't afford it. Her budget was tight, and $200 was too much.

She walked back to the counter, her decision made. "I'm sorry, it's too expensive. I can't afford it." She turned to leave.

"Wait," the large man called after her. "You are my last customer of the day. I'll give them to you for one hundred eighty dollars."

Shehnaz kept walking, shaking her head. "No, I'm sorry."

She rejoined her friends, who were gathering their own purchases, ready to leave. But they urged her to try once more.

"Go back and offer four hundred riyals," they suggested. "See what he says."

The Final Rounds

Shehnaz sighed but turned around, this time with Nazia, Soni, and Saji right behind her. She approached the counter again.

"Four hundred riyals," she stated firmly. "That's my offer."

The bearded man exchanged glances with the younger one—his brother, Shehnaz now realized. They seemed to be communicating silently.

"You are my last customer," he repeated, his tone almost pleading now. "The maximum I can do is five hundred riyals. And I will throw in a fifth bottle for free. Five bottles for five hundred."

Before Shehnaz could respond, Nazia interjected."We can buy better quality in India for less than this," she said, directing her comment to Shehnaz rather than the shopkeepers.

Shehnaz nodded slowly. She understood the logic. And still, she couldn't stretch her budget to 500 riyals.

They began to walk away again.

"Wait!" the man called once more. "Final price: four hundred riyals for five bottles."

Shehnaz stopped in her tracks. She turned slowly. Four hundred riyals—just over a hundred dollars. For five bottles of authentic Arabian iththar.

"Okay. Then lets pack it," she said.

The Ring

While the younger man carefully wrapped each bottle, he looked up at Shehnaz with a mischievous smile.

"Next time you come... don't bring your friends," he said, then quickly added, "I'm joking, I'm joking."

Shehnaz laughed, but her attention had shifted to something else: the ring on his finger. It was distinctive—a silver band with a round, black stone set in the front. The design was identical to a ring her father had once bought for her years ago.

"Where did you get that ring?" she asked.

The young man with a sly smile anwered- "I stole it from my brother."

Shehnaz smiled back.

The bottles were packed carefully in bags and placed in a another. Shehnaz pulled out her credit card to pay.

The brothers exchanged another look.

"I'm sorry," the older one said apologetically. "Our card reader is broken right now. We only have cash."

Shehnaz reached into her purse and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill—one of the last she had left.

"This is all I have," she explained. "I'm flying back to the States tonight. I don't have any other cash on me."

The older brother looked at the bill, then at his younger brother, then back at Shehnaz. He nodded slowly.

"It's okay. I'm done for the day anyway."

During their conversation, the brothers had mentioned they were originally from Afghanistan. They spoke Hindi fluently because many of their customers were from India and Pakistan—Hindi was the language of business here, they explained.

Departing Gifts

In the midst of all this negotiating and purchasing, Shehnaz had also managed to buy a prayer mat for Munnu's friend at the same store. She had paid for it separately and now held both packages—the prayer mat and the precious iththar.

She stood near the entrance of the shopping center, waiting for Nazia, Soni, and Saji to finish their own purchases so they could all walk back to the hotel together.

She had gotten what she wanted. The authentic iththar at last.

But something else lingered in her mind: that silver ring with the black stone, the one that reminded her so much of her father's gift. She had seen another one like it the night before in a different shop.

It was on her wishlist now.

And somehow, before this journey was over, Nazia would be the reason that- She could make it hers.