In ancient times there lived a sultan, a king, who ruled
over his people with a kind and understanding hand. The rest of him was pretty
nice, too. Why was the king so nice? Why was he so favorable and happy? Because
he had the love of a beautiful woman. He made her his sultana (like a queen)
and they lived together in wedded bliss for many years, and the people of the
kingdom were very happy which, I know sounds more like the end of a fairy tale
than the beginning, but just wait.
Because one fateful day, the Sultan
found that his wife was unfaithful and had been deceiving him for many years.
He was furious, and in his rage, he ordered that his wife be executed, which
she was. But what the Sultan didn’t know was that his wife was actually a witch!
And the last words she said on this earth were, “A curse upon my husband, on
his marital bed and his entire kingdom!” She died, but her curse lived on.
From that day forward, those
close to the Sultan saw a marked changed in him. He was gloomy and melancholy.
He was paranoid and mistrustful, especially of women. The witch’s curse had
turned his heart and mind and drove him mad with anger and fear. He declared
that women of all kinds were the devil’s children and would have nothing more
to do with their entire cursed sex.
The problem was that, by the law
of the land, the Sultan needed a wife. If he did not marry again soon, he could
lose his kingdom entirely. So, in the depths of his madness, this king
conceived a solution. Yes, he would take a wife…for one night. He would marry
that very day, spend exactly one night with his new bride, and, on the
following morning, have her put to death. Then that night, he would choose
another bride and so continue from then on. Not only would this satisfy his
need for a queen, but he would be doing all the world a favor by reducing the
number of wicked women in the world.
The Sultan ordered Ja’afar, his
grand vizier, his most trusted advisor, to bring him a suitable bride, and to
tell the executioner to be ready to ply his trade the next morning. This put
the poor vizier in a terrible position. He was loath to disobey his Sultan, but
at the same time, he could not sacrifice an innocent woman to die for the sake
of the king’s twisted fancy. Ja’afar had known the Sultan since the great ruler
was only a boy, and it pained him to see his master transformed so, and prayed
to Allah that a solution could be found…And it was!
Ja’afar had a daughter named
Scheherazade. She was beautiful, clever and possessed a truly great memory. If
she was told a thing only once (a story, for example) she would remember it
always. As such she held in her mind a truly vast collection of the most
wonderful stories you ever heard. She had grown up alongside the Sultan, and
played with him as a boy. It broke her heart to see her old friend and playmate
twisted by that witch’s curse.
But she had a plan.
“Father,” she said, “is it true
what they are saying? That the Sultan is to take a new bride today? That she
will be dead by morning?”
“I’m afraid so, child,” answered
her father, wearily.
“Then I humbly request that you
present me to him.” Ja’afar was stunned silent at his daughter’s words. “I will
marry the Sultan and save the women of this kingdom from a terrible fate.”
“My child,” said the vizier. “You
cannot ask me to do this. You are all I have in this world. You are asking me
to condemn you to death.”
“I won’t die, Father. I have a
plan that will save us all. Myself, my sisters, you, the whole kingdom…and the Sultan,
whom I love with all my heart.”
It is never easy to talk a
strong-willed woman out of doing something she has set her mind on, even if you
are a grand vizier…or just an okay vizier…so in the end, he agreed to help his
daughter with her plan and, that very day, Scheherazade and the Sultan were
wed.
Night fell and the Sultan’s mind, still addled by the
witch’s treachery, was uneasy. He found he could not sleep. “Have you any
skill?” he asked his new bride, who he did not recognize as the little girl he
played with as a child. “Can you play a harp or sing to soothe my mind?”
“I can play a little and sing a
little more,” said Scheherazade. “But perhaps his majesty would like me to tell
a story instead. I know some wonderful stories, my love.”
“Very well, if you wish, you may
tell me a story.”
“Yes, sire,” said Scheherazade,
hoping to Allah that her plan would work. The king lay back in his bed.
Scheherazade took a very deep breath and told her story
“It hath reached me, O auspicious
king, that there lived in a faraway land a merchant…”
Scheherazade told the king the story of a good, happy, and successful
merchant who had a wife and three sons. Everything was going very well for him
until one fateful day when he was sitting under a tree, eating a few dates and
spitting out the seeds. All of a sudden, a huge, terrifying genie appeared
before him. “Murderer!” the genie roared. “You have killed my only son!”
“What?” said the Merchant,
shocked and terrified. “What do you mean? I have killed no one!”
But the genie pointed to a beetle
on the ground. It had been killed by one of the seeds the Merchant had spit
out. Genies often take different forms, but they are vulnerable when they do.
The Merchant had indeed killed the genie’s son.
“Now you must die!”
“No!” begged the Merchant. “I’m
sorry! I didn’t know! It was an accident!"
“Accident or not my son is dead!
And you must join him!”
The Merchant fell to his knees
and pleaded with the genie. “At the very least, give me time. Give me a day to
say goodbye to my family, set my affairs in order, then I swear by the Prophet
that I will return to this place and let you do with me as you will.”
The genie agreed and swore to
return to the tree in twenty-four hours to kill the Merchant. Then he disappeared.
The Merchant thought briefly about simply running away, but he knew that
genies, those powerful beings of light or smoke, were able to do incredible
things and that it would be pointless trying to escape his clutches. Besides
which, he had given his word. So he went home, told his wife and children of
his fate and prepared himself for his demise.
The next day, as promised, the
Merchant returned to the date tree to await the arrival of the genie. So
distraught was he that he began to weep.
As it happens, a man traveling
along the road passed the date tree and heard the man sobbing.
“What’s wrong, my good man?” he
asked and the Merchant explained his plight. “Oh, I see,” said the traveler, a
fisherman. “A genie, eh? Well, you’re in good company. I had some trouble with
a genie a while back. Would you like to hear about it?”
The Merchant nodded. Perhaps, he
thought, it will help take my mind off this terrible situation I’m in. So the
Fisherman began to tell his story…
The First Traveler’s Tale
The Fisherman and the
Genie
For many years, this Fisherman was able to provide for his
family and, though they seldom knew luxury, they never knew hunger. But as time
wore on—
“Stop!”
demanded the Sultan.
“What’s wrong, beloved?” asked Scheherazade,
as innocently as she could.
“You are beginning another story.
I told you that you could tell me one story
and you were telling me about this Merchant and the genie. Tell me that story.”
“I am, my king. This story is
just part of that story. I swear.”
“All right, go on. But don’t take
all night.”
Scheherazade continued.
But as time wore on, the Fisherman’s luck changed for the
worse. For days at a time, the Fisherman would take his boat out, and put his
nets in the water several times each day only to bring them back empty.
One day, he took his boat out and
cast his nets without catching a single fish. He grumbled about his bad fortune
as he tried again. But, again, he brought the net back empty. Rashly, the Fisherman
blamed Allah for his poor fortune.
“Though I suppose,” he said
aloud, “I shouldn’t expect much from one who allows evil to flourish while
honest, hard-working men such as myself cannot even support our families.” He
grumbled some more and threw in his nets a third time, to no avail.
“Bismallah!” the Fisherman roared. “I work and I slave and do what
is right but I am rewarded only with failure and misery!” His furious blasphemy
finished, the Fisherman threw in his nets a fourth and final time, and this
time, they felt heavy as he pulled them back in.
He was disappointed however to find that he had not caught any fish,
but rather a large copper vase which was shut tight with a lead stopper. It
seemed heavy, but as he held it to his ear and shook it, it made no sound, as
though empty. “Perhaps I can sell it in the market and buy some grain or corn
for my family,” he thought, then to make sure it was truly empty, he took his
knife and pried it open.
As soon as the stopper was removed, a thick plume of black
smoke rose from the seemingly empty vase. He set it down on the bottom of his
fishing boat and the smoke continued to come. It rose like steam from a
blacksmith’s forge and billowed higher and higher into the sky. Finally, the
smoke solidified and took the shape of a genie, greater in size than any giant
from any fable. The Fisherman was terrified when he heard the giant’s powerful
voice saying “At last I am free of my prison! Who was it set me free?”
“It was I,” said the Fisherman.
“I set you free.”
“Then you will die!”
There was an uncomfortable
silence. “What?” cried the Fisherman. “What are you talking about?”
“I was trapped in that vase four
hundred years ago. When first I was imprisoned I swore that if someone set me
free before a hundred years, I would shower him with wealth and power, and be
his personal slave and grant him three wishes every day until he died. After a
hundred years, no one released me. I then swore that if someone set me free
before two hundred years, I would shower him in wealth and give him a palace of
his own. Another hundred years, and I was still a prisoner. I next swore that
if I was released within the next hundred years, I would shower my liberator in
wealth. But after three hundred years of waiting, I was not released. So
finally I swore that whoever set me free in the next hundred years would die by
my hand! I grant you only one favor: You may choose the manner of your own
end.”
The Fisherman tried to persuade
the genie to be merciful, he tried to convince the genie that he was being
ungrateful, he even begged the genie for his life, but the genie only asked him
how he should like to die.
Then, like an inspiration from
above, an idea came to the Fisherman. He said to the genie, “Before I decide
how I should like you to kill me, will you grant me one favor? Will you answer
me truthfully a question?” The genie considered this and agreed. “Were you
really inside that vase I opened?”
“What? Of course I was. You saw
me emerge, did you not?”
“I don’t know what I saw. There
was so much smoke. Besides, a genie of your size could not possibly fit in that
little jar.”
“You insufferable mortal! I tell
you I did come from inside that
vase!”
“I am sorry, but I just can’t
believe it. Maybe if I saw it for myself…”
“So be it!,” said the genie, and
in a fit of pique he transformed back into billows of smoke which receded into
the vase. “There! Are you satisfied now?” he said, but it was too late. As soon
as he was back inside the vase, the Fisherman fastened the lead seal back on
the vase, trapping the genie once again.
“Before we met,” the Fisherman
said to his captive, “I was cursing Allah for my bad luck at not being able to
catch fish. But I think I was wrong to blame Him. Just because something
unfortunate happens to someone, doesn’t mean that person is forsaken by God.
And as for you, you were likely imprisoned in this vase for some crime of your
own devising and have no right to take out your anger on innocent others. We
could both learn a valuable lesson today, if we so chose. As for you, I believe
I will drop you back in the sea and build a sign on this spot warning other
fishermen not to open the vase if they find it, so that you will never be free
to harm others again.”
The genie begged and groveled
pathetically with the Fisherman, but the Fisherman was deaf to his pleas.
Finally, the genie offered the Fisherman a deal. “Cast your nets in the water
one more time. You will catch more fish than you have in your life. Plump,
perfect fish of fine flavor which will be greatly in demand in your village.
Only set me free, please!” The Fisherman removed the seal and the genie flew
away in a cloud of smoke, never to be seen again. Then, the Fisherman dropped
his nets in the water, and just as he was promised, he brought in the biggest
catch he’d ever had.
“That is quite a story,” said the Merchant. “You were very
clever to outwit that genie.”
“Then
perhaps you will be as lucky.”
“I don’t
see how. I can’t think of any way of avoiding my fate.” And the Merchant again
began to weep. This attracted the attention of two more travelers. Princes, in
fact, who were traveling together. They too took pity on the poor man and asked
what troubled him. The Merchant explained that he was to be executed by a
genie.
“How very
odd,” said the First Prince. “My friend and I were just talking about our own
run-ins with genies.”
“Really?” asked the Fisherman.
“You have en-countered genies as well?”
“Indeed,” said one of the princes,
and he began to tell his tale...
“No! Enough!” bellowed the
Sultan. “No more sidetracks. Just finish the story of the Merchant.”
“I cannot if you will not let me
tell you the—”
“Then never mind! I don’t want to
hear any more.”
“As you wish, my king. If you
don’t want to hear about the Transformed Prince.”
“Transformed Prince? What is he?”
“That’s what the story tells,
majesty. That and all about the genie and the monkey and the great magical
battle that rocked the heavens and shook the earth…but you don’t want to hear
it so—”
“Who says I don’t? Transformed
princes, genies, monkeys…sounds all right. Tell me the story.”
Scheherazade smiled and
continued…
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