Aladdin and the Marvelous Lamp: Part 2
A Folk Tale
Aladdin and the Marvelous Lamp: Part 2
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Though it was only an hour after dawn, a giddy heat was spreading its heavy wings over the city. The burnt-brick wall Aladdin leaned against still retained the previous day’s warmth. The boy, hoping to impress his uncle (who was expected at any moment), had dressed himself in the sumptuous clothes the man had bought for him yesterday in the khan.
A group of rapscallions stood huddled on the rooftop opposite. They were gazing down in condescension at the older boy who was supposed to be their leader. An orphan with a scar on his neck flicked a pebble that struck Aladdin’s headscarf. But before Aladdin could react, his uncle hailed him from the end of the alley. The children on the rooftop ran away.
At the sound of his uncle’s voice, Aladdin’s mother whispered a prayer for Allah to safeguard her son. Overhearing this simple maternal gesture, the boy’s eyes stung. He had never told her that he loved her; and a presentiment of evil had overclouded his mind ever since his uncle’s departure last night after dinner.
The sorcerer called al-Gharib handed Aladdin a water-skin with a leather shoulder sling.
“Why do I need this? There are public fountains along the way.”
“We will be journeying into the desert.”
Aladdin squinted. “Why don’t you have a water-skin?”
The sorcerer did not want to reveal that, as long as he wore the magic ring, he did not need food or drink. “If I thirst, I shall drink from yours.”
They descended the same steps, which on the previous day had taken them to the Buddhas carved in the cliff faces. Not only did these statues mark the lowest point within the city’s limits, but the gateway beneath it led to the centuries-old footpath, which the Vajrayana mendicants took into the mountains of Tibet.
The terraces of the lower slopes were crowded with marble palaces and private enclosures patrolled by sentries. They lined a winding path that snaked its way through the mountain. The orchards, parks, and menageries attached to these were sheltered from the frequent sandstorms blowing up from the Tarim Basin by thick walls and the deep natural folds of the rock. Some of the palaces were owned by Persians, and the fountains of their gardens were decorated with sculptures of lions, a beast alien to the region.
Aladdin asked why the wealthy lived so far beneath the city.
“To avoid its rabble. You will do the same once you are rich. Do any of these palaces please you?”
“No sooner do I pass one than an even more magnificent one swims into view. Why are the guards not barring our way?”
“I have paid the lord of each palace a casket of gold in exchange for the privilege of passing through his courtyards and loitering in his parks for the duration of a week.”
The two arrived at a pond belonging to a disgraced official of the Song Emperor. Diminutive lug-sailed junks floated on the water, beneath the surface of which bug-eyed goldfish swam in shoals.
Aladdin cocked his head. “What are those things bobbing on the water?”
“They are called boats. There are areas of the world where the watery main is vaster even than the Great Steppe, and can be traversed only by conveyances resembling these.”
The sorcerer removed a honey cake from his satchel and handed it to Aladdin. “Eat this. It will give you strength.”
Aladdin obliged. As they resumed their descent, he felt an unusual vigor fill his veins.
A broad aquifer ran out of the mountainside and irrigated the orchards on the shelving terraces. They walked on a promenade through a region reserved for husbandry, where the plots of earth were balked into seed rows. The paved way ended; and the red limestone was cut into rude steps leading down into the oasis.
Aladdin craned his neck back in an effort to see the city above him. But the projecting ledges obscured his view and he could only discern a few vacant battlements and watchtowers—all unmanned, since the altitude of the metropolis made in impregnable to siegecraft and the engines of war.
Over the centuries, the raking winds buffeting the mountain’s nether coomb had devastated the man-made oasis at the edge of the desert. The split bark of the date trees, which had been transplanted from al-Iraq, grew out of the brown-green scrub. The trees’ withered fronds of the neglected trees provided scant shade for those pitching their tents on the parched and dying ground.
A dry well with an empty birkat (or cistern) stood amidst a huddle of unroofed clay huts, mute testimony that this place had once been a habitation. Aladdin’s heart beat rapidly and he was filled with mortal dread when he contemplated the buff horizon stretching before his eyes—a horizon that his uncle was so casually wandering off into.
The horrors of the Taklamakan Desert were written in the scathed faces of those who had survived its crossing. Grim men spoke of entire caravans and mounted hordes that had been swallowed up in its merciless immensity within the space of minutes. The ever-sliding surface of this trackless and arid waste allowed for no vegetation to flourish for the simple fact that there was no soil for the roots to cling to.
A breeze stirred the sorcerer’s robes; and when he did not hear Aladdin’s footfalls behind him, he turned to confront the boy, who remained transfixed to the weed-choked gravelly margin, staring out at his uncle with an expression of suspicion intermingled with trepidation.
“Come,” the sorcerer said. “It won’t be far.”
“You told my mother last night that you wanted to show me the palaces beneath the city. I’ve seen them. I want to go back. There’s nothing in the desert but death. Besides, these clothes that you bought for me yesterday will be torn to shreds.”
“I am leading you to a treasure that will make you rich beyond your wildest dreams.” He stroked his beard, and when he did so, the ring he wore glowed. “You will do everything that I tell you to do.”
Entranced, Aladdin stepped into the desert and followed the man whom he still believed to be his uncle. But the spell was somewhat broken when the soles of his silken slippers impressed themselves upon the scalding sands, because the pads of his feet began to burn.
They walked for hours. Aladdin took spare sips from the water-skin, which had itself become hot to the touch. The walls of the Tarim Basin receded behind them. And when Aladdin glanced over his shoulder, he saw clearly in the distance the domes and spires of the city standing out in sharp relief against the snow-capped Pamirs.
They descended a steep declivity into a sink in the sand that was banked on all sides by towering dunes. When the sorcerer was satisfied that he had found the place he sought, he clenched his fists and raised them over his head, which caused an upward sift of sand to encircle them and form itself into a churning vortex that belted them round in all directions.
Aladdin stumbled repeatedly to regain his footing, as the ground on which he stood was being violently torn away from under him. At last the basaltic floor of the Tarim Basin was laid bare before them. And Aladdin, covering his mouth from the dust being blown about, gawked at the spectacle.
Fused to the abysmal landscape were the skeletal remains of representatives of the giant race of ‘Ad. A massive rib cage, each rib of which was as long as an elephant’s tusk, rose from the earth near a rectangular slab. An iron ring was bolted to one end of the slab to enable it to be dragged away.
“Grab the ring and pull,” the sorcerer said.
“I can’t pull that by myself. I’ll need your help.”
“If I help you, it will not budge.”
Aladdin took the iron ring and was surprised by how easily the slab slid away for him. It must be that honey cake that he gave me, he thought. Beneath the slab was a pit with a bamboo ladder leading down to the bottom of it. On the floor of the pit was a hole so narrow that only a child or a slender adult could have entered it.
The sorcerer pointed to the hole. “You must go into that cave.”
“I’m not going in there! I’d have to enter feet first. And I don’t even know how deep it is!”
Aladdin’s uncle went to him and struck him so hard that the boy reeled and fell to the ground. He lifted himself up and touched his lips. There was blood on his fingertips.
“Forgive me, nephew,” the sorcerer said, unctuously. “I hurt you only to help you. A great fortune awaits you in the cave.”
“Go on,” Aladdin said in a sullen voice.
“There are three challenges that you must pass through. The first is the Chamber of Gold. Let not your naked flesh so much as touch any object in the room, else your body and soul will be consumed by hell-fire.
“Beyond that room lies an underground lake. You will find a boat on the shore similar to those we saw in the pond. Find a way to embark on it, but do not look into the eyes of the giant goldfish in the lake’s murky depths. Or they will fascinate you, and you will die in water.
“The boat will bring you to an island full of fruit-bearing trees. You will desire nothing more than to eat of the fruit. But do not yield to this temptation. For each bite you swallow, will be transformed into jagged glass in your belly.
“Keep any treasure you find on the island. But you must bring the lamp to me.”
Aladdin’s eyelids fluttered. “The lamp?”
“There is a lamp in a niche in the center of the island that illuminates everything in the cave. You must extinguish it, remove the wick, and pour the oil out. This will plunge the cave into darkness.” The sorcerer removed his magic ring. “But my ring will guide you back.”
Aladdin took the ring and placed it on his finger. The band contracted until it was snug.
“If you do this, Aladdin, you will not only make your mother proud. But my dear brother in Heaven shall smile down upon you as well. Remember: extinguish the lamp, remove the wick, and pour the oil out. Otherwise, you will not be able to leave the island.”
The sorcerer concluded his oration with a grin so sly and ghastly that Aladdin turned away in revulsion. He went to the ladder and climbed down into the pit. The sorcerer followed. Aladdin unslung his water-skin and handed it to his uncle, because he feared that if he were to wear it in the cave, the sturdy leather strap might snag on something, which could be to his detriment.
The boy inserted his legs into the hole and squeezed his body in. He could hear his clothes tearing. But once he was inside, the shaft expanded enough for him to make use of his arms and legs. The sunlight dimmed as eased his way down, but a greenish-white glow intensified beneath him.
When his feet touched solid ground, he shouted up. “I’ve reached the bottom!”
“Good. Do you see the first room?”
Aladdin turned around. He saw an arched portal where the virid light seemed brightest. “Yes!”
“Remember, don’t let your skin touch anything in that room.”
As the warning died away, Aladdin looked down at his torn clothes. His slippers were ripped open in places at the toes and heels.
The ample room beyond archway was cluttered with coffers, earthen jars, and tong-wood boxes, all of which overflowed with gold coins. Aladdin stepped inside, and his elbow overturned a stack of casks. Lifting his foot like a crane, he waited until the last coin spilled out onto the floor; then lowered his foot and continued in a halting gait.
A fly buzzed around his head and settled on his nose. At first he was afraid that the insect was one of the objects in the room that he was not supposed to touch. And when nothing happened, he exhaled a sigh of relief and swatted at it. But he missed; and the force of the blow was greater than he had expected (due to the honey cake). He fell forward, but the voluminous sleeves of his shirt swagged out in front of him, and he landed palms-down on the silk.
The fingers of his left hand hovered over the floor; and a flaming tongue rose up and licked them. He screamed and jerked away. The fingers were blistered, but he was still alive. Carefully, he rose again. He made it to the other end of the room.
When he exited, the sound of rushing water was so tumultuous that he could no longer hear his uncle, which was good because the man was starting to annoy him. To his left, there were waterfalls gushing out of the vertiginous peak of an eminence, on the slopes of which were dilapidated and abandoned pagodas.
Before him stretched the unruffled waters of a subterranean lake. At the end of a rotting jetty a large junk, like the ones he had seen in the pond. The timbers of the jetty creaked as he trod to the rope ladder hanging conveniently over the side of the boat. He scaled this and found nothing on the deck, but coils of rope and a skeleton crew, who stood up and started working the rudder and rigging.
The boat left the jetty and the dead crew steered a course across the lake toward the source of the greenish light. Aladdin walked to the taffrail, hoping not to get in the way. The tailor’s son was starting to get used to miraculous things happening to him; and since the dead men were not menacing him, he did not perceive them as a threat. If anything, they were helping him.
He rested his elbows on the rail and looked down into the water. There were hundreds of bulging eyes looking back up at him. This alarmed him; and he went to the center of the deck and crouched on his heels, wondering if looking at the bulging eyes of the goldfish was the same as looking into them. But when he felt no urge to jump into the lake, he assumed he had passed this trial as well.
In the uncertain twilight of this stygian realm, a looming island of solid gray rock hove into view. It was crowned with a lush and leafy forest. There were plunging waterfalls dropping from such a height that by the time they touched the water they had evaporated into mist.
As the junk neared the base of the island, Aladdin scanned the wrinkled cliffs, looking for a way up. He would have to use the natural grips and footholds available.
The ship eased its starboard side between two waterfalls and the hull bumped against the cushioning moss. Aladdin reached up and grabbed a sturdy vine. He tugged at it, and, finding it firm, pulled himself up. He used the immoderate strength that the honey cake had endowed him with to rapidly climb to the top. When he had dragged himself over the brink, he took note of where the vine was, since it would be the surest way back down.
When he turned to face the forest, a sweet odor assailed his nostrils. The intoxicating scent of the fruit was unlike anything he had experienced before. His exertions had exhausted him. The branches were lowering themselves so that the fruit was within reach. The carbuncle eyes of the magic ring cast a lurid glow on the lethal rind, and made the delicacies look even more luscious. Aladdin shook his head and upbraided his stomach for growling at a time like this.
Beyond the tangled foliage, he espied the source of the wavering green-white light, which pervaded and filled the entirety of the cave of wonders. When he stepped out into the clearing, there was a tufa mound with a small grotto inside of it. Within the grotto was a niche; and in the niche, was the lamp.
Aladdin unceremoniously grabbed the lamp, blew out the garish flame, cast away the wick, and poured the oil out. He had thought everything would go dark. But this did not happen. However, the greenish glow in the clouds overhead slowly began to fade.
Aladdin sensed that he should return to the boat. When he entered the forest, there was a rumble of thunder. A gust of wind blew through the trees, shaking the branches; and the fruits knocked against each other, making clicking sounds, because they had turned into crystals and no longer exuded their sweet scent.
It occurred to Aladdin that he had not found anything valuable on the island, as his uncle had promised he would. The lamp was just a hollow, rattling piece of junk. Why would his uncle want this?
He hit upon an idea. If he plucked a few of those glass fruits in the trees, and brought them with him back to the city, he might be able to sell them to some fool in the khan. He grabbed a red, blue, and green one, and slipped them into his pockets. He did not realize that he had taken a ruby, sapphire, and emerald, each of which could have been exchanged for a kingdom.
He returned to the edge of the cliff, so that he could shinny back down the vine. But first he ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt, tied one end of it to the lamp, and the other around his waist. This done, he descended hand over hand. By the time he made it to the deck of the junk, the sails were brittle with ice.
Creakingly, the junk’s bow nosed its way back in the direction from which it had come. But the lake was starting to freeze over, and there was a sudden flurry of snow. Icicles hung from the battens, and the ship began to sink. The bones of the crew stiffened and the skeletons shattered and fell apart.
Aladdin looked over the edge of the boat and saw the bulging eyes of the giant goldfish sinking deeper into the lake, because they were dying. The spreading of the frost and deepening of the darkness accelerated the closer the junk made it to the shore. Then it stopped moving altogether because it was frozen in the ice.
Aladdin climbed down the crackling rope ladder and shuffled over the ice until he reached land.
As he crossed the threshold into the Chamber of Gold, he slipped and fell again. His naked palms hit the cold floor. But he did not die in fire, because the magical effects emanating from the lamp had been spent when the oil was poured out. Everything in the room (the tong-wood boxes, the jars, the gold coins) had been turned into sculptures of ice.
The moment he exited the archway portal at the far end of the room, a solid block of ice formed over the entrance. And the Cave of Wonders was sealed forever.
“Did you find the lamp?!” the sorcerer exclaimed.
Aladdin could not respond until he had caught his breath. “Yes, uncle.”
“Bring it to me.”
Aladdin climbed up the shaft. But the walls near the top were smooth, and he no longer had free range of his arms. He thrust his hand up and begged his uncle to grab hold of him and pull him out.
“First, give me the lamp!”
“Uncle, the lamp is safe. I’ve tied it around my waist. Please, help me!”
The sorcerer’s voice grew ominous. “Not until you give me the lamp!”
“I can’t!” Aladdin said.
The sorcerer emitted a terrible howl and soared straight up into the sky. He clenched his fists and whirled round and round, until the turbid maelstrom that he had raised imploded and covered again the desert floor with sand. While still in the air, the evil man bent forward, flexed his knees, grabbed his ankles, and tumbled head over heels, as he flew toward the southern rim of the Tarim Basin, and disappeared into the mountains of Tibet.
A sudden rush of sand poured down the shaft, taking Aladdin with it. The boy rolled away at the bottom and took refuge in the ample space between the wall of ice on one side and the hot sand on the other. The contrasting temperatures created a not unpleasant equilibrium.
“That man was definitely not my uncle,” Aladdin said.
The sorcerer had forgotten his magic ring, which shed its diffused light on the predicament Aladdin now found himself in. The unnatural strength the honey cake had given him was wearing off. He wept when he thought about how worried his mother would be when he did not come home.
And when he found himself still alive three days later, he realized that the ring the sorcerer had bestowed upon him was more of a curse than a blessing. For despite feeling the pangs of hunger and thirst, so long as Aladdin wore it, it would be impossible for him to die of starvation or perish for lack of water.
I'm really enjoying your interpretation of this tail Daniel! Got a real chuckle out of Aladdin's suddenly being disillusioned of the sorcerer with "that man was definitely not my uncle" lol!