Aladdin- Far From Agrabah

by Aisha Saeed

  “Absolutely. In a flash. Not a problem at all,” Genie replied.

  “Thank you so much, Genie.” Aladdin smiled. How had he lived his life before his friend? He had the solution to everything.

  He waited for Genie to swipe his hands in the air and bring back the magic carpet, but Genie simply stood there with his arms crossed. Waiting.

  “Ahem.” Genie cleared his throat, gesturing toward the lamp in Aladdin’s hand. “I’m ready when you are, kid.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Aladdin. “I told you to please go ahead and find it. We don’t have time to lose.”

  “I’ll do it as soon as I can snap my fingers. All you have to do is say the magic words.”

  “Magic words? You mean I have to wish for the carpet to come back?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But…” Aladdin’s mind raced. “Isn’t this part of the original wish? To get us back from Ababwa to Agrabah is kind of implied in the wish to come here in the first place, isn’t it?”

  “Nice try,” Genie said. “I wish it worked that way but it doesn’t. You got me on the loophole with making you a kingdom gratis, but there’s no loophole for this. This person is operating outside of the kingdom I created. If he was an imaginary rogue character, I could have fixed it no problem under the manufacturer’s warranty, but he’s not one of mine. I wish there was a way around it, but rules are rules, and genies are nothing if not bound by rules they wish they didn’t have to follow. I’m really sorry, kid.”

  “No. That can’t be,” Aladdin said frantically. “There’s got to be some wiggle room.”

  “Afraid you’re all out of wiggle room. Just say the words and it’s all fixed. Otherwise, I can’t help you. And not to tell you what to do with your wishes or anything but when it comes to strategic wish making, this seems like a good one to make. You have to leave the kingdom of Ababwa eventually.”

  “But I can’t use up a wish. Not on this. Not yet.”

  “What are you going to do, then?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll try to figure it out and find the carpet on my own.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” Aladdin said reluctantly. “I’m sure.”

  “I can understand that.” Genie nodded. “You know how to find me if you need me. Stay safe, little friend. And good luck.”

  Aladdin watched Genie disappear. He stared at the empty space where his friend had stood just seconds earlier. A chill ran through him as he thought about the man who’d stolen the carpet. It was one thing to have thought the thief was someone from Genie’s imagination. But it was an entirely different feeling to realize that this was a real person.

  And though this man had fooled Aladdin once, he would not fool him again.

  Aladdin vowed to find the magic carpet if it was the last thing he ever did.

  JASMINE’S HANDS were propped on her hips when Ali joined her in the living room.

  “Any luck?” he asked her.

  “I wish. Didn’t find it anywhere. What about you? Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Nothing that could help us, unfortunately.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re back.” She gestured to the team of worried-looking servants and guards who stood in a group. “I didn’t want to waste time while you were upstairs, so I went ahead and assembled the servants and guards to figure out how we can best look for the carpet. The more people searching, the better.”

  “Princess Jasmine thought perhaps I and the other kitchen staff could head into town to inform the people of what happened,” the chef said.

  “The guards and I can go door-to-door to see if the man lives in any of the homes in town,” said the head guard.

  “We’ll go to the meadows and check the shores by the cliffside,” a gardener said.

  “I think between all of us dividing and searching certain areas, we’ll be the most effective,” Jasmine said. “What do you think?” She hesitated as she took in Ali’s worried expression. She hoped he didn’t think she was presumptuous for taking charge of his palace in this way.

  “This is brilliant,” Ali said. “Thank you, Jasmine.”

  Everyone hurried off to search for the carpet. The palace walls echoed with worried conversation.

  “I’m glad everyone is helping,” Ali said. “But I can’t stay here just waiting. I have to do something.”

  “Who said anything about waiting?” Jasmine raised an eyebrow. “Seeing you personally searching will underscore the gravity of what is going on. Besides, people may open up to you in ways they won’t to anyone else.”

  “You’ve thought of everything,” Ali said.

  “I know you love that carpet.” Jasmine squeezed Ali’s arm. “I have grown pretty fond of it myself. We’ll find it. We will make sure we do.”

  Together they hurried down the front steps, out the palace gates, and toward the village square. Rounding the corner, they ran into a man—the same one who had confronted the young boy, Jamaal, earlier at the town square. His eyes widened when he saw them.

  “Just saw the palace guards rush past me on my way home for the night,” he said. “Is there trouble?”

  “Someone stole something valuable from the palace,” Ali told him. “Have you seen him, by any chance? He had gray eyes and silvery hair. He’d have had a rolled-up carpet with him. It is very valuable to us and we must find it as soon as possible.”

  The man frowned and then shook his head emphatically. “No, Prince Ali. I can’t remember seeing anyone who fits that description…and I’d certainly have noticed someone running about with a rolled-up carpet tucked under their arm. Of that I am sure. But I’ll be on the lookout for him now.” The man’s jaw tightened. “Stealing from the prince of Ababwa? The sheer nerve! That is downright treason. Don’t you worry, Prince Ali, we will find him and bring him to justice as soon as possible. I will begin searching at once.”

  Jasmine and Ali thanked the man and continued on their way. By the time they’d reached the town square, news of the theft had spread throughout the kingdom. People rushed to and fro, speaking in hushed tones. Torchlights and lanterns lit the path as people scoured the area for any sign of the man who had stolen the magic carpet.

  “Do you think he flew away with it?” Jasmine asked Ali.

  “I can’t imagine the carpet would let him do that,” Ali said. “At least I don’t think so.”

  “Such a sweet rug. It must be so terrified right now. I hope wherever it is, it’s not being hurt.”

  “Me too.”

  Jasmine looked about at the worried expressions of the townspeople they passed along the way. Beyond the square, she saw the hilly peaks and the docks in the distance. Boats rocked gently in the breeze from where they were anchored at the port.

  “Everything appears to be in order. Same number of vessels as when we flew in,” Ali said as he followed her gaze and squinted at the boats. “But I’ll have a guard make sure nothing is amiss there.”

  If the carpet was injured or in any way unable to take them back to Agrabah by air, Jasmine wondered how long it would take to get back home on one of those ships. What state of mind would her father be in when he discovered her missing from her palace suite? Ali had explained to her that time moved differently when traveling by a magical carpet, but surely they were pushing it now. Sooner or later someone would figure out she was missing.

  But there was no sense in worrying about any of that right now. They simply needed to find the magic carpet. Whether they left by carpet or by boat, the only way she would ever go back was together with their friend, the carpet.

  HOW COULD I have been so careless? Aladdin fumed as they hurried down the streets of Ababwa. The streets were lit by the moon above and the glow of lanterns held by townspeople hurrying past, searching for the magic carpet. He knew it did no good to blame himself, but he’d messed up the one thing he had to do—the most important thing—taking care of the magic carpet. It was their only way into the kingdom and their
only way out. He could have asked a guard to keep an eye on it. How hard would that have been? How could he not have done such a simple thing?

  He thought back to the crook. Aladdin had projected himself onto the man, hadn’t he? He knew what it was to be poor, what it was to not have proper clothing and to feel frustrated and hungry. But he had compared and sympathized so much he’d failed to see the man for the individual he was, with his own motivations and ambitions. Aladdin had completely and utterly missed what was happening. Now that he looked back on their first meeting, the man had stared at the carpet a beat too long. It should have been obvious then and there that something was amiss. With a new title, fresh surroundings, and adoring subjects, Aladdin had grown soft, and thanks to him the magic carpet had been stolen. What had that rug done to anyone to deserve this? It was just a sweet, lovable being that had never harmed anyone and had brought them all this way. He cringed at his last memories with the magic carpet. It had wanted so badly to accompany them and explore the streets of Ababwa together. They’d told it to stay back. They had said no.

  Aladdin hoped the magic carpet could hang on long enough for them to find it.

  “A rug shop!” Jasmine pointed to a store they were walking past. They paused and took in the glass window with a display of multicolored rugs.

  “Well, it’s worth looking at,” Aladdin said. He was pressing a hand to the door handle when three guards turned the corner and approached them.

  “Any luck?” Aladdin asked, turning to them.

  “Unfortunately, no.” The tallest guard shook his head. “I wish we had some information—any information—to share. But so far no one has seen a hint of this man at all. We were just coming to our final place to check, this rug shop, before we came back to the palace to update you.”

  “Thank you for trying,” Aladdin said.

  “Everyone in the kingdom is searching. Zaid, the lantern shop owner—he lent out all his lanterns to everyone. People are scouring every bit of forest, the lagoons, the dock, and the pier as well. We’ll keep looking until we find it. After we check the rug shop, we will double back to make certain we didn’t miss anything.”

  “Why don’t you go ahead and double back now? Jasmine and I can check out the rug shop. Thank you again for your help with all of this.”

  “Yes, sir.” The guard saluted Aladdin, and the trio turned and hurried back toward the town square.

  Aladdin watched them leave and then looked doubtfully at the shop in front of them.

  “It’s possible,” Jasmine said. “Perhaps the magic carpet wanted to meet some of its compatriots, or maybe the man has the carpet stowed away here to throw us off his trail. What better way to hide than in plain sight?”

  Stepping inside the shop, Jasmine and Aladdin were confronted by a dizzying array of rugs of all shapes, colors, and sizes. Some hung from hooks in the ceiling, others lay ten to a pile across the shop floor, and more were rolled up in cubbies on the far wall. Aladdin walked over to one hanging carpet. It had the same colors and pattern as his friend, but Aladdin didn’t need to touch it to know it was not his magic carpet. You couldn’t taste or touch or smell the magic that the carpet exuded, but you knew when you were around it that you were in the presence of something beyond what anyone had ever seen. The carpets in this shop were lovely, but they were not magical. None of them was his friend.

  “What is that man doing with the carpet?” Aladdin shook his head. “What if he’s hurting it? What if the carpet won’t even be able to fly at all once we get to it?”

  “Well, as long as we can find it, we can always leave some other way.”

  “How?”

  “By boat.”

  “Oh,” Aladdin mumbled. “Well…”

  “I know. A boat is not the way I would want to go back to Agrabah, either. It will certainly take longer, and there’s no way around the fact that it will come out that I went missing. But let’s not worry about worst-case scenarios just yet. Let’s focus on finding the carpet. We have other ways if we need them.”

  Aladdin said nothing. He couldn’t tell her the truth. What would he say? That the boats she found comfort in couldn’t take them anywhere beyond the horizon of Ababwa? What would become of them upon a boat like that?

  “I still can’t figure out where that man disappeared to,” Jasmine said. “He must live outside the kingdom. It’s the only reasonable explanation.”

  “There is some undeveloped land,” Aladdin said slowly. He remembered seeing it when they had first flown into the kingdom. “It’s past the docks toward the rockier cliffs that border the kingdom. He could be there.”

  “He did smell as though he lived directly by the ocean,” Jasmine said. “He must have grabbed the magic carpet and headed out to the less populated parts of Ababwa, where he knew people wouldn’t think to check.”

  Aladdin remembered the coastline he’d seen when they had flown over. “But it’s miles long,” he said. “Where would we even begin?” He had to find the thief on his own without Genie’s help—he had to. And yet, he thought of the jagged cliff-laden shoreline and wondered how he could possibly do it alone; they had deployed the entire town to help them find the magic carpet and were no closer than when they began their search.

  “The cartography shop!” Jasmine exclaimed. “It’s right there.” She pointed across the street. The light was still on inside. “That’s where we should have started from the very beginning. Let’s check the local maps. That way we can at least get the lay of the land out there, what sort of places someone might hide away. It could help us narrow down the places that this man might be.”

  Aladdin hoped Jasmine was right and that Ahmed had some sort of map in his shop that could help them. It was worth a try. Anything was worth it if it could lead them to the carpet. If this didn’t work, Aladdin knew he would be out of options. He’d have to call for Genie and use the lamp.

  SALEEM HAD been keeping a secret for a long time. It was a secret he’d kept so long he sometimes wondered if it was merely a story he’d told himself. And yet, he thought of his mother—her silvery blue eyes and her hands worn from laboring in the fields, tending to their vegetable gardens, and milking the goats—and his father, small in stature and rough in demeanor, who said such qualities were simply how one survived in what they did for a living. And Saleem would remember again how real his past was. It wasn’t his family he wished to hide; he loved his family. What they did for a living was the true source of Saleem’s shame.

  His family spoke to bulls. Some would hear this and take it metaphorically, thinking what one meant was simply that they were so well equipped at their work of raising, training, and caring for bulls that it was as though they could speak to them. But in fact, his family had a gift of speaking in the particular animal language of the bull. His family could calm their rage. Convince them to give the neighboring farm’s cow a calf. Because they understood their language, they respected these giant creatures, and though the family could have made far more money if they’d trained and sold bulls for bullfighting, as was the custom of most bull breeders, the family knew a life in a bullring was not what any bull desired. The money would have been nice, his father often said, but he couldn’t live with the knowledge that they’d played a hand in the inevitable fate of a bull’s grisly death. So they lived on their acre of land and helped neighboring farms with breeding, calming, and selling bulls to distant pastures. Though it never amounted to much, a simple existence was all the family had ever known. They got by somehow, and they were content enough with their circumstances.

  Except Musa Saleem.

  Of course, back then, he had not been Musa Saleem. He was Musa Bullknower, the surname as undignified a name as one could have. He loathed the manure and the stench that never left his skin even after scrubbing under scalding water in the tub. He hated the heat of the oppressive outdoors and the sheer difficulties of their circumstances. His parents were grateful for their plot of land, handed down from generation to gen
eration, but the square patch owned him more than the other way around—a lifetime prison sentence he could not commute. When he read the books the kind local bookshop owner lent him from time to time, Musa dreamed of the characters in those tales and longed for a life beyond the one that was his destiny.

  And then one day, he stopped dreaming and began planning.

  Step one was to look the part he wanted to play. After years of saving and secreting away money, Musa had enough to pay the local tailor to make him a splendid outfit. “An outfit fit for a king,” the tailor declared after he’d finished. Indeed, the navy outfit that Musa ran his hand over was the finest material he’d ever touched in his life.

  The next step was to purchase a book—his first one—from the surprised bookshop owner. The book was entitled Manners and Mannerisms of Proper Society. He read the book cover to cover in secret until he had memorized all its contents, and then he burned it.

  The final step was the most difficult: his departure. There was nothing for him in these farmlands. He had to travel to the heart of the kingdom, where the rural landscape melted away into the city proper. What would happen then, Musa didn’t know, but staying where he was wasn’t an option. And so, the next evening, as his parents looked on with tears in their eyes, Musa waved goodbye and stepped onto the dirt road that eventually led to town.

  A handful of coins secured him a ride with a passing caravan, and by dawn he arrived. Musa marveled at the city sights. Shops stacked upon shops, and streets full of people and carriages.

  Before Musa could wonder what exactly he would do now, a golden pumpkin-shaped carriage passed by, and a pebble from a horse trotting past dislodged from the ground and flew into its spoke. The carriage halted with a sudden jerk.

  Musa hurried over and poked the pebble off the spoke. It slid effortlessly to the ground.

  “Thank you, good man.” A prince popped his head out of the window.

  Musa flinched. He hated how people’s expressions crumpled upon looking at him closer, their noses scrunching up at the smell he could not hide. But this prince smiled at him. Then Musa remembered his fine navy clothes; he looked nothing like the bull keeper he was.