A thing of beauty is joy forever.-Keats.
I felt likewise ,when I chanced to behold the chinese furniture.
They are so beautifully done.
The inlaid workmanship is eye catching.
The ornate carvings are breathtaking.
The proportion is fulfilling.
Every piece is a work of art.
Let be the dining table,,center piece.corner shelf. almirah,cots,and show cases.
My hands started to itch,
I could not take my eyes of a centre piece.
It was an excellent work of art.
It was a table of solid wood, with artistic legs, fully embedded with chipsand impressively designed.
I had been advised by my friends to bargain in such centres.
.The salesman quoted a hefty price.
He spoke in chinese.
I talked in English.
No progress could be made.
We resorted to sign language.There was little improvement.
Both of us were eager to conclude the deal.
We broke our heads,as to how to accomplish the deal.
I spotted a calculator.
It became our communication tool.
He pressed the numbers.
I followed suit.
I offered half of what he quoted.
He refused.
He mumbled.
In turns we worked on the calculator.
We settled on a price ,very favourable to the buyer.-that is me.
I paid cash and walked out with head held high.
The centre table found a place in living area.
It added charm to the room.
The living area looked grand and elegant.
My friends and guests showered praise on my taste.
They quoted different prices.
Nothing came near my cost.
i had bought it cheap.
No, I had stopped down by engaging in limiting the price.
I felt ashamed of myself.
I had set a value to a piece of art.
I had stifled the artistic fervour with my monetary means.
i had undermined the workmanship.
I had disqualified the creative inclination.
The mercenary in me has suppressed the enthusiasm of a breed of craftsman.
I apologise to you ,my dear chinaman.
Meenas Poems 