Aladdin and the Marvelous Lamp: Part 4

A Folk Tale

Jul 26, 2025

Aladdin and the Marvelous Lamp: Part 4

Threading his way through the covered khan, Aladdin mused over what his mother had told him about the treacherous nature of the jinn and how he was flirting with damnation by asking them to do favors for him. The jinni in the ring had been one thing. Aladdin would have died in the Cave of Wonders had the jinni not helped him get out of there. But when he had asked the gigantic jinni in the lamp for a big meal, not because he and his mother were starving but because they were a bit peckish, Umm-Aladdin had scolded her son and implied that he had acted out of greed.

I’m not greedy, he thought, as his shifty eyes took in a beaded necklace hanging on a shop door that he regrettably had no time to steal. Aladdin could tell that the thieves who “worked the khan” were dogging his heels, suspecting him of trying to horn in on their territory. He carried in his pocket one of the silver chalices left over from the feast that the jinni had conjured up out of nowhere. Aladdin had wrapped it in a rag, because the pocket of the deel he had on was full of holes and he did not want anyone to see the silver glinting in the sunbeams filtering down through the latticed skylights in the ceiling.

He ducked into the section of the khan where the Firanja, the pale-skinned traders from the Land of the Franks, sold their wares. The Firanja were known for their ingenuity, having cultivated extensive networks of commerce. They had also developed an accounting system that tabulated debits and credits by scribbling figures on Baghdadi paper on either side of stark vertical columns. Someone had described this to Aladdin as a kind of abacus in ink.

The Sultan’s guards kept close watch over the shops of the Firanja Quarter; and at night, access to it was sealed by an iron-banded door. If Aladdin had been caught picking pockets or pinching wares here, he would have been summarily beheaded in front of the wronged party. He noticed to his satisfaction that the thieves who had been pursuing him had melted away. They tended to shun this quarter.

He went to the shop of a white-bearded Genoese merchant who dealt in precious metals. Aladdin handed him the chalice. The man turned it over, studying its shine and the way it reflected the light. He muttered that it was indeed silver. I don’t know how this boy got his hands on this, he thought. Maybe he’s a thief. But I don’t care. I’ll offer him a florin; and if he refuses, I’ll offer him another, and then another.

Aladdin had no conception of the value of the chalice. So he accepted the first gold coin offered. He thanked the man in Chagatai and was stunned when the merchant not only responded in the same language, but told Aladdin that if he possessed anymore such objects, he would be more than happy to purchase them as well.

Aladdin flipped the coin in the air, caught it with an upward swing of the other hand, and left. When he was gone, the merchant squinted at the tracery adorning the side of the chalice. This is worth at least seventy-two times what I paid for it.

Before leaving the marketplace, Aladdin used the florin to buy a door for their hovel to replace the carpet nailed to the lintel, which was not very good at keeping the wind, dust, and insects from getting in. It was a Yemeni door, painted blue and white. A team of carpenters delivered it to the house, and spent an hour installing hinges in the jamb for the door to swing on.

The neighbors gathered around to watch. Umm-Kawthar stood amidst her children. “You must be very proud, Umm-Aladdin,” she said. “Your lazy son has at last found a job, and can afford to buy you extravagances such as this door.”

Aladdin could tell that his mother was frowning behind her veil.

Umm-Kawthar made an expansive gesture and, in a sarcastic voice, addressed her husband and everyone else in the alley. “If Aladdin and his mother are so rich, why don’t they move out of the Clothiers’ Quarter and buy a palace beneath the city, where all the other high and mighty people live?”

“Shame on you, daughter!” Umm-Kawthar’s mother exclaimed. The old woman cleared a way with her cane, so she could hobble over to where Umm-Aladdin stood. “Remember what our Lord says: Protect me from the evil of those who envy.” She pointed her cane at her daughter. “Apologize to Umm-Aladdin.”

Umm-Kawthar lowered her eyes. “Forgive me. I’m sorry for what I said.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Aladdin’s mother replied. “I never took offense.”

Umm-Aladdin went to the new door, but could not figure out how to open it. One of the carpenters explained to her how to lift the latch. Once inside, she closed the door; but the edge of her robe got caught in the doorframe and she screamed. She opened it again, pulled her robe inside, and slammed the door shut.

Aladdin and the neighbors laughed, except Umm-Kawthar whose face remained downcast.

Moments later, Aladdin stepped inside and found his mother standing unveiled with her back to the wall.

Aladdin sat down on the carpet and began to eat some pastries he had bought with the money he had left after paying for the door and the carpenters.

“You should try these,” he said. “Some of them have meat in them.”

Umm-Aladdin ignored him. “You sold one of those jinni-made pieces of junk in the khan, didn’t you?”

“Mama, what else are we to do with them? Just because a jinni made them doesn’t mean they’re evil. I rubbed each piece of silverware and not a single jinni came out.”

“That’s not the point, Aladdin. Don’t you see? These are ill-gotten gains. They are cursed. We must safeguard them to ensure they do not fall into the hands of an innocent person. But we must not profit by them.” She paced the room. “Tomorrow, I will go back to carding wool. Since you refuse to get a job, I will have to work to support both of us.”

“You don’t have to card wool, Mama! I still have lots of money left over from the chalice I sold today.”

“Then give the money to the poor! I absolutely forbid you to sell any more of those accursed dishes! Do you understand me, Aladdin?”

“Yes,” was his sullen reply.

The next day, Aladdin smuggled a silver spoon out of the house and returned to the Genoese merchant in the Faranji Quarter. Even though the spoon was smaller than the chalice, he took only one gold coin for it. It never occurred to Aladdin that the Franji (who treated him so amiably and talked to him in fluent Chagatai) was a cheat.

Aladdin went back to the khan each week. And each time he went he came back with a gold coin. He sold the flatware first, so that his mother would not notice what he was doing. But within three months all the utensils were gone.

Meanwhile, Umm-Aladdin carded wool each day and sold it for a pittance. She would give her son whatever she made and tell him to go buy food. It was then that Aladdin would dip into his own deep pockets and return with a train of porters bearing mountains of freshly cooked delicacies. He lied and told his mother that the reason he was able to get so much food for so little money was because he was becoming adept at haggling.

“I’m acquiring a reputation for being a shrewd negotiator,” he said. “Who knows? Your son may have it in him to be a merchant yet.”

Umm-Aladdin grinned proudly and patted him on the cheek.

One afternoon, Aladdin’s mother glanced over at the heap of silverware shoved into the darkest corner of the house. She squinted at it and tilted her head before resuming her chores. Aladdin wondered if she had noticed that the pile was shrinking.

That night his mother was so exhausted that she fell asleep on her mat before even blowing out the candles. When Aladdin heard her breathing steadily, he fetched the magic lamp from behind the bolster. He rubbed it the same way Umm-Aladdin did the day she inadvertently summoned the jinni.

Again, he was instantly transported into that vaulted chamber where the soaring columns were wreathed in a greenish mist. The towering jinni lowered its glowing eyes to take in the puny boy at its feet. It opened its mouth to speak, but Aladdin raised his index finger and urgently whispered, “Keep it down. My mom’s asleep.”

In a booming voice the jinni said, “Do you wish me to keep my voice down?”

“Shhhh!” Aladdin said, gritting his teeth. But then he realized that, even though he was holding the lamp, he was also inside it, which meant his mother would not be able to overhear what he and the jinni were saying. Don’t make too many wishes, he thought. All I need is more silverware to replace the stuff I already sold.

The jinni looked away as it spoke. “I must obey whoever holds the lamp. What do you wish me to do?”

“I’m hungry,” Aladdin said. “I want a huge meal like the one you made the last time.”

The jinni stroked its chin. “You don’t have much of an imagination, do you?”

“I don’t even know what an imagination is.”

“Do you wish to know what an imagination is?”

“No! Are you stupid?! All I want is a feast exactly like one you made for us before. Remember? — With all the silverware?!”

In the blink of an eye, Aladdin was back in the hovel with Umm-Aladdin still asleep. But her recumbent body was surrounded by silver plates and bowls heaped with pungent delicacies. Umm-Aladdin’s nose twitched. She smiled in her sleep, dreaming of that hearty meal that had taken her and Aladdin two days to finish.

I’ve got to get rid of all this useless food, Aladdin thought, or she’ll wake up.

When he opened the Yemeni door, it creaked. He glanced over his shoulder, but the noise had not roused her. He grabbed a rock outside and used it as a door stop. He decided he would dump the wine from the cups and ewers first, because he was worried that, in the dim light, he might kick over a cup and leave a telltale stain on the floor.

Once he had poured out all the wine, he grabbed the largest serving tray, which was laden with meat. He took this across the alley to the abandoned dwelling opposite the house. He planned to dump the food there and wipe the tray clean with a rag he had in his pocket.

In the moonlight, Aladdin could discern a man and woman with seven children shrinking against the wall of the ruin. They were all trembling. It was a family of beggars. Some of the children were naked and so thin that their ribs could be seen.

“Don’t be afraid,” Aladdin said in a low voice. He looked down at the steaming tray of meat in his hands. “I’ve brought you food. And you’ll be able to sell the tray it’s on.” He laid it down in front of them. A young girl scooped up a handful of meat and put it in her mouth. She smiled at Aladdin. “There’s more,” he said. He sprinted back to his house.

Before long, he had moved all the dishes containing food to the abandoned house: the plates, the trays, the bowls. Then he came one last time and brought a candle for them to see by. “In return for what I’ve done,” he said, “will you promise to leave this place and never tell anyone what happened tonight?”

The man and woman stared at each other in amazement. The patriarch of the family replied on their behalf. “Wallahi, you have our word.”

When Aladdin returned home, he saw that all that was left were the chalices and utensils. He added these to the pile of silverware. Then he put the magic lamp behind the bolster, blew out the candles, and lay down on his mat.

He dreamed of that annoying jinni and his sleep was plagued by anxieties that something bad might happen for his having wished for a second feast. The next morning he awoke to the sound of women keening. Umm-Aladdin was nowhere to be seen. The Yemenite door stood open. Aladdin sprang to his feet and ran outside.

The commotion was coming from next door. Umm-Kawthar stood in the middle of the alley, crying: “Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!”

Aladdin’s mother was holding Umm-Kawthar’s youngest child. “Aladdin,” she shouted, “go fetch the imam. Tell him that Umm-Kawthar’s mother passed away last night.”

“It’s all because I envied you!” Umm-Kawthar wailed.

“No, no, no,” Umm-Aladdin said. “Don’t say that.”

Aladdin could see through the hole in the wall of the ruin across the way that the beggar family had departed. Before going to the mosque, he went back inside and retrieved a small wooden box where he kept the money he made from the silverware.

The old woman was buried near sundown. Umm-Kawthar was informed by the imam that all the expenses for her mother’s funeral had been paid for by an anonymous benefactor. When Umm-Kawthar expressed wonder at hearing this, the imam handed her a coin purse containing twelve gold florins.