The woman who sold emotions in bottles


Urban Fable | The Woman Who Sold Emotions in Bottles

By Faraz Parvez
Professor Dr. (Retired) Arshad Afzal
Former Faculty Member, Umm Al Qura University, Makkah, KSA
(Pseudonym of Professor Dr. Arshad Afzal)

🧪 “Feelings are free,” they said. Until she put them in bottles.

She appeared one morning on a footpath near Saddar, Karachi.
No shop. No license. No ad. Just a green wooden table, some dusty velvet cloth, and a sign painted in rose-red:

“Emotions for Sale – Pure, Uncut, Distilled.”

And beside her sat bottles—small glass flasks glowing faintly—each labeled with a word.

Joy. Rage. Peace. Ambition. Forgiveness. Grief. Hope.

She wore a sari the color of dried marigolds and had eyes that looked like they once knew everything and had since chosen to forget.

The First Buyers

A tired clerk bought Courage in a blue-stoppered vial.
He walked into his boss’s office and demanded fair pay.

A young bride bought Patience, took it in tea, and stopped crying after years of abuse.

A criminal purchased Regret—and turned himself in, weeping.

Her fame spread not through marketing, but word of mouth and miracles.

The Rules

Customers were warned:

“You can only consume one emotion at a time.”
“It wears off at midnight.”
“You cannot mix. You must not spill. And never inhale directly.”

Most obeyed. Most.

Until a social media starlet bought All of Them.

They found her at dawn, catatonic. Her phone kept recording as she screamed, then laughed, then begged for her mother, then danced to silence. Millions watched the clip.

No one could explain her eyes—how they shone like glass melting.

The Bottled Secret

Rumors said she didn’t make the emotions.
That she extracted them.

From donors.
From strangers.
From herself.

Old men claimed they saw her cry into a funnel.
Children whispered she bled ambition into a jar.
A maulana once declared she had sold her soul—but returned the vial marked “Faith” with trembling hands.

The Rich Came Next

Politicians wanted Loyalty.
Actors begged for Charisma.
Tycoons ordered Mercy, but rarely used it.

One industrialist offered to buy her entire business. She refused.
He returned a week later, emotionless. It was said he drank Detachment… and forgot to stop.

The Vanishing

One day, she was gone.

No bottles.
No sign.
Just a letter nailed to the tree behind her stall:

“You cannot buy what you never learned to feel.”
“I gave. I warned. I’m empty now.”

People still search for her.
Not for her face.
But for a refill.

🌆 Moral of the Tale

In this era of emotional drought and digital noise, perhaps we’ve all tried to bottle our feelings—
into filters, reels, and fleeting emojis.

But real emotions aren't for sale.
They’re felt, not faked.
And once gone… some never return.

📚 Dive Deeper into Urban Magic

📖 Visit farazparvez1.blogspot.com
Your go-to haven for fables that awaken, stories that linger, and truths disguised as fiction.

✨ Come back tomorrow. A new feeling—perhaps bottled—awaits.


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