Fozia and the Quest of Prince Zal

by Rosanne Hawke

  ‘Fozia—’ Aunty Meena bit her lip. ‘You can call us Ummie and Abu, like the boys. We’d like it very much.’ She hesitated. ‘But we understand if you don’t feel ready.’

  ‘Ji.’ That was all Fozia could manage – just one word. Her mind raced. So Aunty Meena believed her parents died in the flood; otherwise, why would she say such a thing? Fozia knew people never told relatives about a death straight away in case it upset them too much. Was this Aunty’s way of telling her?

  Fozia was relieved to arrive at Bano’s house so that Aunty Meena wouldn’t say any more about being her new ummie.

  Bano had been one of Aunty Meena’s sewing students. Over chai and sweet biscuits, Bano spoke about her cousin who was working for a brick kiln. ‘He can never save enough money to pay back his debt to the owner. If only a miracle would happen and money could be found to release him.’

  Fozia and Aunty Meena looked at Bano kindly. Fozia knew that money was not going to be found – and what about her own family? The loan her parents took just seemed to grow bigger. Her father couldn’t save the extra money each month to pay it off. She caught her breath. What if she were forced to work at the kiln?

  Aunty Meena put a hand on her arm. ‘Are you all right, Beti?’ At the word ‘Beti’, Fozia burst into tears. It was what her parents had always called her: Beti, their daughter, never Fozia, as if her relationship to them was more important than her name. How they had loved her, how she loved them. Aunty Meena folded Fozia in her arms and rocked her.

  Bano hovered over them. ‘Can I do something to help?’

  ‘Shukriya,’ Aunty Meena said, ‘but I think we’ll go home. We can talk about the designs another afternoon.’

  Bano called, ‘Khuda hafiz’ from the doorway, but Fozia couldn’t even look up to say goodbye. The world swam in front of her eyes and her head hung like a rock. She had not cried like that, with huge gulps, since she was small.

  At home, Jehan sat with Fozia while Aunty Meena cooked the daal. Lali knew something was wrong and sat on Fozia’s feet. But for all their tenderness, Fozia couldn’t talk about it. Nor did she feel like telling any more of the story. To talk about Prince Zal would only remind her of all that she had lost.

  8

  Fozia

  Fozia woke early the next morning. It was so dark the birds were still asleep. Her hands stroked the carpet underneath her and she sighed. The carpet felt the same as when she and Saima sat on it to listen to their ummie’s stories. Fozia smiled, remembering those stories – and a thought about Izaak and how he made money to help people dropped into her mind.

  Fozia sat straight up. She had just thought of a way to raise money, too. She would crochet a carpet using the exact pattern as the one she had salvaged from her old house. Her mother had taught her how to crochet around her dupattas – how hard could a carpet be? And what if she embroidered stick figures of her family right in the middle: Abu, Ummie, little Saima, and herself. And Lali and the pups, of course. She would ask Izaak to sell it online, and the money could be used to pay off the loan to the brick-kiln owner. She couldn’t wait to get started.

  Later in the morning, Uncle Akram received a phone call. He passed the mobile to Fozia. ‘It’s Shakila. She wants you to visit.’

  ‘Salaam,’ Fozia said into the phone. Her voice sounded faint and uncertain; she had never used a phone before. Shakila was almost squealing. ‘Salaam, it’s so exciting.’

  ‘What’s exciting?’ Fozia said.

  ‘Kelsey wants to hear more of your Prince Zal story. Can you come to Skype this afternoon?’

  Amir hung his arms around Fozia’s neck, trying to hear. ‘Ji, say ji, we’ll come!’

  Fozia sighed and checked Uncle Akram’s face. He nodded. ‘Ji, we’ll come today.’

  Jehan and Amir jumped up and down on the floor. ‘We’ll hear more of the story!’

  Aunty Meena regarded Fozia. ‘That’s a nice surprise. Do you feel like going?’

  Fozia watched the boys dancing. She gave a wobbly smile. ‘Ji.’

  It was as if both Uncle Akram and Aunty Meena let out a breath at the same time. They looked at each other and smiled.

  After Shakila and Kelsey had exchanged news, and Shakila had apologised for their internet connection, Kelsey asked for the story. Fozia saw the boys’ eyes brighten. Jehan filled Kelsey in with a few more details about Prince Zal and his illness.

  ‘How did you think of leprosy for your story?’ Kelsey asked. ‘Did you know anyone who had it?’

  Fozia’s voice stumbled. ‘Just … a boy in our village.’ Inside, where no one could see, Fozia was weeping. How hard it was to keep her secret. Her parents had been firm about her not talking about him. Almost everyone thought leprosy was highly contagious.

  ‘It’s good that it can be cured now,’ Kelsey said. ‘My mum says people take a pill a day for a year and have physio. The medicine costs about four hundred Australian dollars.’

  ‘The boy I knew was sent to live with his grandparents where he could get medical treatment,’ Fozia said. ‘His neighbours were frightened of leprosy.’

  ‘Mum says we need to help stop others saying bad things about people because of diseases they have.’

  Fozia blew out a breath and smiled gratefully. She didn’t expect that from Kelsey. ‘Shukriya, Kelsey,’ she said softly. She couldn’t put into words the feeling Kelsey had just given her; that she had been brave enough to speak, and someone had heard her heart.

  ‘The story, please?’ Amir shouted.

  Everyone laughed, even Fozia.

  ‘Accha,’ Fozia said. Amir settled down beside her, and Kelsey looked as if she wished she was in the room with them, too. ‘This is what happens next …’

  9

  Prince Zal

  Toto still looked miffed that a magnificent bird like himself was only called ‘the parrot’. But he said to Prince Zal, ‘This carpet will take us to Paristan.’

  ‘How will it know the way?’

  ‘Surely you must realise by now that it is enchanted? Ask it to take us to Paristan and see for yourself.’

  Prince Zal obeyed, and the carpet lifted into the air as if it had wings. He hung on to the sides as it rose above the jungle, the snowy mountains in the distance sparkling like diamonds in the sun. But even their beauty couldn’t stop Zal worrying about Najya. What if she had turned into a pari? Was that the danger? Then his stomach lurched as the carpet plummeted. The jungle flew past him in such a blur that Zal couldn’t even see the trees.

  ‘Too fast,’ Toto squawked. ‘Too fast!’ He spread his huge wings as if about to soar off.

  Then the carpet landed with a jolt. Both Prince Zal and Toto were unsteady on their feet as they stood and looked out at a huge expanse of water.

  Zal gasped. ‘It’s a secret lake.’

  Green hills covered in forest surrounded the water. Zal thought it was even more beautiful than his own mountain kingdom.

  ‘I don’t see a pari anywhere.’ Zal looked around. ‘Are they tiny?’

  Toto chuckled. ‘Nai, they are as big as you.’ Toto took charge. ‘We must find the cave. It is the entrance to their underground kingdom.’

  ‘They live underground when there’s a beautiful lake to look at?’

  ‘They dance in the lake when it’s safe.’

  ‘So we could wait for them?’

  ‘Nai, they won’t come out if we are here. We must meet them in their home.’

  They didn’t sound very dangerous to Prince Zal.

  It took all morning to find the right cave, even though the sun never moved in the sky.

  ‘Come in, we will be welcome,’ Toto said.

  Zal hoped the parrot was right. The pathway descended into darkness. Soon Zal could hear enticing music. It made him walk faster.

  ‘Careful,’ Toto said. ‘Pariyan don’t eat humans or bird
s, but they can still be dangerous.’

  Zal stopped. ‘How?’

  ‘They use magic to make you stay. They know what you think, and they talk to animals.’

  ‘I can hear you talk and I’m not magical,’ Prince Zal said.

  There was a short silence. ‘Aren’t you?’ Toto replied.

  Just then they heard a voice. To Zal, it sounded like tiny bells tinkling.

  ‘Is that you, Toto? Bring Prince Zal inside.’

  Toto chuckled. ‘See? That is the pari princess.’

  Around the corner was a magnificent room cut out of the rock. The walls twinkled with precious stones, while feathers of gold hung from the ceiling. Emerald-green water shimmered here, too. Bright light sparkled, but Prince Zal couldn’t see what caused it to shine.

  A young woman glided towards them. She looked human, except she sparkled like the cave. ‘Why have you come, Prince Zal?’ she sang.

  Zal suspected she already knew. He bowed. ‘Princess, is my sister Najya here?’

  ‘Your sister is safe, Prince Zal.’

  His heart lifted, then plummeted at her next words. ‘But we cannot let her go as yet. And she will weep if she knows you have been here without seeing her.’ She paused. ‘We can give her to you when you fulfil a boon for us.’

  Hope flickered again. ‘What is it you need?’

  The princess drew closer. ‘We need you to extract a promise from the leopard that she will not terrorise us. She prowls around the lake so we can’t dance in the water. Soon she will find our cave.’

  A flash of snarling yellow fangs ripped through Zal’s head like a raging pain. ‘How could I do that? The leopard eats human children!’

  ‘And pari children,’ the princess said quietly. ‘You are the only one who can do this, Prince Zal. You are resourceful and wise. You will find a way to help us.’

  Zal shook his head. That wasn’t him. She was thinking of someone else. He was a lowly seventh son with a limp.

  ‘As soon as the leopard promises, we will know, and your sister will be free to leave. Do not fear – we will keep her safe until your return.’ The princess moved away towards the water.

  ‘Wait—’

  ‘Come,’ Toto said. ‘She will not say more.’

  There were so many things Prince Zal needed to know.

  Toto led him out of the cave. Zal stumbled outside in despair. ‘How can I achieve such a task? It’s impossible.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Toto flapped a wing. ‘There is one person who could help.’

  The parrot didn’t look happy, but Zal clutched him. ‘Who? Let’s ask them at once.’ He laid out the carpet. ‘Ao, sit on the carpet and I’ll ask it to fly there.’

  But Toto didn’t move. ‘I think you’ve met her. It is the leopard.’

  ‘Nai, she will eat me. I saw it in her eyes.’

  Toto looked up at a tree as if that was where he’d rather be. ‘You could go home and be safe, or you could talk to the leopard. Remember, she has a brain and a heart. You need to appeal to those. She loves riddles, and she is a mother.’

  ‘How can I think of a riddle that could trick the leopard?’

  Toto sighed like wind whistling through trees. ‘Oh, Prince Zal. There is so much you don’t know that I wish I could tell you. You can do anything. Remember who you are.’

  Zal closed his eyes. ‘Accha. If this is the only way, then do it we must.’ The thought of returning to the pit made his insides churn, but he couldn’t bear losing Najya. What if the pariyan kept her so long she forgot him?

  ‘The carpet will take you, Prince Zal. I have other business.’

  Zal watched glumly as Toto glided slowly into the trees. It seemed even Toto was afraid of the leopard.

  Zal stroked the carpet. ‘Please take me to the pit,’ he said softly. He had to try for Najya’s sake, even if it was the last ride he ever took.

  10

  Fozia

  Early on Friday morning, before the boys were awake, Fozia sat in the courtyard crocheting her carpet. Fozia had more time this morning, as she didn’t need to fetch water from the river.

  ‘Look,’ she said to Lali. ‘Uncle Akram’s friend put this tap here yesterday. Now all I have to do is put the jug underneath, turn the tap on until it’s filled up, and then turn the tap off – just like in Shakila’s house.’

  She was using Aunty Meena’s wool to make tight long rows with a large hook so the carpet would grow fast. The central panel was already finished, and this morning she began the embroidery in the middle. Creating the carpet filled her heart with sad and happy memories.

  Fozia could embroider almost as fast as she could draw with a pencil. First, she embroidered images of her family as stick figures. She even stitched Lali and the pups. The pups were almost as big as Lali.

  ‘See, Lali, this is you and Nala and Lal.’ Lali looked pleased.

  Fozia left a space between her parents and herself. Her needle paused. Then she worked the word ‘Ummie’ and underneath, the name everyone knew her mother by: ‘Mrs Danyal’. Under ‘Abu’ she sewed ‘Mr Danyal Masih’, then ‘Fozia’ and ‘Saima’, using simple leaf stitch and special knots between the names.

  Fozia wished she could fill in the space she’d left, but there would be too many questions. It had to remain her secret.

  Lali licked her hand as she stitched. Lali never barked in the early morning, and Fozia hugged her. ‘You are such a great friend, Lali. Everyone here is good to me. But they don’t know how hard it is. Saima was the same age as Amir. Every time he hugs me, I remember how warm Saima’s hugs were. She used to put her arms around my neck and play with my earrings, and she would say she loved me as much as the moon. She was my little moonlight.’

  Lali lay her chin on Fozia’s feet while Fozia kept working.

  ‘And when Jehan turned up at the tent camp, a nine-year-old hero for surviving the flood alone in a tree, everyone loved him.’

  Lali yipped quietly.

  ‘Ji, I know you love him too, but I still find it hard when he looks at me like I matter more than the stars in the sky.’ She patted Lali’s fur. ‘I feel so disloyal thinking of Jehan as my brother.’

  Fozia scratched behind Lali’s ears. ‘A miracle happened in the camp last year, Lali. When Jehan asked me to come with him to meet some people who may be his parents, I was jealous. But then I saw his tears and my heart that had felt like a stone for so long cracked a little. We both went with him, didn’t we, Lali? And here we still are.’

  Fozia sighed. Could a miracle happen for her, too? The story about Zal was the only thing that gave her hope. She had to keep that tiny flicker alive.

  In the afternoon, Fozia was in the courtyard crocheting the second side panel of her carpet when Izaak and Shakila’s father, Mr Waheed, came to visit. Both men sat inside on the charpai with Uncle Akram and Aunty Meena. They talked in low voices, and Fozia couldn’t distinguish their words, even when she stopped crocheting to listen. Whatever they were discussing, it sounded serious. She hoped Shakila wasn’t sick. Or Raza.

  ‘Fozia,’ Aunty Meena called. ‘Please make some chai. Bring five cups.’

  ‘Zarur, Aunty ji.’ Fozia poured a jug of water into a saucepan and tipped in two tablespoons of black tea and a cup of sugar. After it came to the boil, she added two cups of milk. When it had heated again, she poured it through a strainer into the cups. She placed them on a tray with biscuits and nuts and took it inside.

  Making chai wasn’t a strange thing to do, but the looks on the adults’ faces as they watched her bring it in to them was unnerving. They didn’t seem cross, but it certainly looked as though they had been talking about her.

  ‘Sit by me,’ Aunty Meena said. ‘Have some chai.’ Fozia hadn’t expected to join the grown-ups.

  Mr Waheed took a mouthful of tea. ‘Mmm, very nice and sweet, just like Shakila makes
it.’

  Fozia barely smiled. What was going on? Maybe Uncle and Aunty didn’t want her to live there anymore.

  They were all silent until Mr Waheed put his cup on his saucer. ‘We do not wish to upset you, Fozia,’ he said. Fozia felt a tug in her middle. ‘But we need to ask you a question.’ He paused and Aunty put an arm around Fozia’s back. ‘We know your little sister drowned in the flood …?’ It sounded like a question, so Fozia tilted her head. ‘We must ask – was there anyone else in your family? Besides your parents?’

  Fozia could hardly breathe, let alone speak. She couldn’t raise her head to look at Mr Waheed. She leaned forward to put her cup on the tray, but it rattled as she nearly dropped it. Her father said to never in any circumstance talk about their family secret. The brick-kiln owner wouldn’t have loaned her parents the money if he’d known what it was for. Fozia knew what people thought of leprosy. If she told Aunty Meena and Uncle Akram about her secret, they would turn her out. They’d think she was carrying the disease, and maybe that she’d give it to Jehan and Amir. She couldn’t bear to see the boys look at her with fear, never wanting to hold her hand or hug her.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Izaak asked. ‘It’s just—’

  Mr Waheed put his hand on Izaak’s arm. ‘We’re sorry to upset you, Fozia, to make you relive that dreadful time.’

  Fozia stood, but all she could say was, ‘Teik hai’ before she rushed outside. She had lied again. She unfolded the carpet she was creating and touched the stitches of her family. Her fingers found the empty space where someone else should be.

  After a few moments, Izaak filled the doorway. ‘Fozia?’

  ‘Ji, Chacha?’ She put her hand in her lap and looked up, hoping her eyes weren’t red.

  ‘Aunty Meena says you’re making a rug about your family that you’d like me to sell online. Can I see it?’

  She spread the crocheted carpet out so Izaak could look at it. ‘This is very fine work,’ he said. ‘Is this your family in the middle?’