Dec 31, The Alchemist follows the journey of an Andalusian shepherd boy named Santiago. Believing a recurring dream to be prophetic, he asks a Romanif. The first edition of the novel was published in , and was written by Paulo Coelho. He started to read the book he had bought. As he read on, an old man sat down at his side and tried to strike up a conversation.
He had already imagined the scene many times; every time, the girl became fascinated when he ex- plained that the sheep had to be sheared from back to front. He also tried to remember some good stories to relate as he sheared the sheep. Most of them he had read in books, but he would tell them as if they were from his personal experience. Meanwhile, the old man persisted in his attempt to strike up a conversation.
The boy offered his bottle, hoping that the old man would leave him alone. But the old man wanted to talk, and he asked the boy what book he was reading. The old man knew how to read, and had already read the book. And if the book was irritating, as the old man had said, the boy still had time to change it for another. He looked like an Arab, which was not unusual in those parts. Africa was only a few hours from Tarifa; one had only to cross the narrow straits by boat.
Arabs often appeared in the city, shopping and chanting their strange prayers several times a day. He looked at the people in the plaza for a while; they were coming and going, and all of them seemed to be very busy.
If it were, he would already have heard of it. They tell their incredible stories at the time when you want to hear them. He could see that the old man wanted to know more about his life. It was the old man who had asked for a drink of his wine, and had started the conversation. The old man was probably a Gypsy, too. But before the boy could say anything, the old man leaned over, picked up a stick, and began to write in the sand of the plaza. With a movement that was too quick for some- one his age, the man covered whatever it was with his cape.
When his vision returned to normal, the boy was able to read what the old man had written in the sand. There, in the sand of the plaza of that small city, the boy read the names of his father and his mother and the name of the seminary he had attended. Everyone, when they are young, knows what their Per- sonal Legend is. They are not afraid to dream, and to yearn for everything they would like to see hap- pen to them in their lives.
But, as time passes, a myste- rious force begins to convince them that it will be impossible for them to realize their Personal Legend. Or marry the daughter of a textile merchant? And also by unhappiness, envy, and jealousy. All things are one. He never realized that people are capable, at any time in their lives, of doing what they dream of.
Bakers have homes, while shepherds sleep out in the open. Parents would rather see their children marry bakers than shepherds. There was surely a baker in her town. The boy waited, and then interrupted the old man just as he himself had been in- terrupted.
Sometimes I appear in the form of a solution, or a good idea. At other times, at a crucial moment, I make it easier for things to happen. The miner had abandoned every- thing to go mining for emeralds. But he had thrown it with such force that it broke the stone it fell upon, and there, embedded in the broken stone, was the most beauti- ful emerald in the world. This is what the Warriors of the Light try to teach. Good afternoon. He was tense and upset, be- cause he knew that the old man was right.
He went over to the bakery and bought a loaf of bread, thinking about whether or not he should tell the baker what the old man had said about him. If he were to say anything, the baker would spend three days thinking about giving it all up, even though he had gotten used to the way things were.
The boy could certainly resist causing that kind of anxiety for the baker. So he began to wander through the city, and found himself at the gates. There was a small build- ing there, with a window at which people bought tickets to Africa. And he knew that Egypt was in Africa. The idea frightened him. In two years he had learned every- thing about shepherding: he knew how to shear sheep, how to care for pregnant ewes, and how to protect the sheep from wolves. And he knew what was the fair price for every one of his animals.
From there, he could see Africa in the distance. Someone had once told him that it was from there that the Moors had come, to occupy all of Spain. He could see almost the entire city from where he sat, including the plaza where he had talked with the old man. Curse the moment I met that old man, he thought.
Neither the woman nor the old man was at all impressed by the fact that he was a shepherd. He knew how to shear them, and how to slaughter them. If he ever decided to leave them, they would suffer. 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. The story of this popular novel by Paulo Coelho follows the amazing and motivational story of an ordinary Andalusian boy, Santiago, who works as a shepherd. After having repeated dreams of a mysterious prophecy, he started to take it seriously.
He told about his dream to a local fortune teller, and she interprets that he will discover a great treasure in the pyramids of Giza in Egypt. He believed what she said, and then he decided to set out on a journey that will change his life forever. During his journey, he met an Alchemist, who help him to realize his worth and learn important lessons about life. It motivates the readers to take control of their lives and never leave anything to fate; if you make true efforts, everything will work in your favor.
According to its author, Paulo Coelho, he wrote this powerful novel in just two weeks and termed it the words of his soul.
The inspiring and strong story of this novel has important life lessons that can make a strong impact on the minds of its readers. It has already inspired millions of its readers, who made it the best international seller book. Reviewer: Saif ullah - favorite favorite favorite favorite favorite - December 10, Subject: Something missing but that's not enough today I saw the best and epic book to read in , but something missing very badly.
I have found a full book download url if anyone wants to download the full book. Reviewer: saberfa - favorite favorite favorite favorite favorite - December 15, Subject: Thanks Thanks for uploading this novel.
Reviewer: smileysue - favorite favorite favorite favorite - March 21, Subject: Insprational I highly recommend this book as inspiration to anyone looking to follow their destiny. Simple but effective.
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