Mir, a brave, young boy of mid-eastern descent, brown-skinned, dark hair and brown eyes full of adventure and excitement listened entranced as his grandfather told Arabian stories of camels and the endless desert, of marble castles, rich silks and jewels, unique and exquisite, but most of all he loved the adventure stories of Alladin and the Magic Carpet. “Arabian stories of camels and the endless desert”
The old man‟s stories interested not all of the children for they were always running off to play games on the television, biking or playing cricket. But, Amir fascinated and with a deep interest of the past would digest every word. He was somewhat different with a vivid imagination and time and time again, in his mind, he would recreate the adventures of Alladin as though it was today and not a myth of
yesterday, as if it was him, walking about in the busy market place playing his mischief and flying around on his carpet, teasing Jasmine –“the princess” as she sat on her balcony and of course, in the company of his faithful genie. But always he
would be awoken from his dreams to the reality it wasn‟t real, not now, for he was so far away from the mid-east, in a South American country, where there were no camels, no desert and no-one wore silk and certainly no Arabian music and dancing. “Where did it all go?” he had asked his father, a puzzled look on his boyish, innocent face. His father, though, not always enthuse with his son‟s many, strange questions, would smile and answer, “It was a long time ago son, many things have changed.” “Why did we come here, why can‟t we go back?” “Well, it‟s a long story and things have changed there, too. There are no-more fairy tales.” “I wished things hadn‟t change, it was so wonderful then,” he had said crest-fallen. His father had embraced him, wondering sometimes how good dreams of the past would be for this wonderful child. The next morning, Amir woke up, wildly excited and slid down the banister of the stairs, bursting through the kitchen door and dancing around his mother chanting, “I got it mom, I got it, I got it.” His mother held him by the shoulders so he could stand still, “What have you got, son?” “A great idea, we can open our own business with Arabian goods and call our store, „The Arabian Nights.‟” “Oh boy,” his mother had said, exasperated, “Another dream, maybe we should send you to the mid-east.” “Yeah,” Amir said enthusiastically. She sat him down to have his breakfast just as his big brother and his father came in from their general store. “Packing those steel rods was one heck of a job,” his father said rubbing his shoulder. “Maybe we should have asked „Aladdin‟, here to summon the genie to make our work easy,” his brother mocked.

“Very funny,” Amir mumbled. It wasn‟t his brother alone who made fun of his imagination, but also the boys at school and if that wasn‟t bad enough, the girl who was his friend was nicknamed
„Jasmine.‟ He couldn‟t understand why they won‟t believe, why they didn‟t want to bring back that beautiful culture in their lives. “Too much has been lost,” his grandfather said one day, as they sat by the wharf with their fishing rods looking across the wide river that flowed into the sea on the far horizon where long ago merchant ships sailed plying their trade of silk and Arabian goods. “But you continue to embrace it in your heart, my child, and one day your dreams would come to life.” “Yeah,” Amir said to himself, a wide smile on his face. The boy who so often went back in time and lived his adventure would one day bring the Arabian style back to this time. He followed the teachings at school, read his books and locked away in his mind the beautiful parts he loved, not allowing the fun and laughter to annoy him, until one day, an older boy was rude to his friend „Jasmine.‟ The next day, Amir took his sword to school and challenged the boy to a duel. The sword was not real but sturdy enough to hurt the boy and his father was called to school on the matter. Amir was scolded and his sword taken away, but it was enough to showcase his bravery and he won the girls admiration for his stance. For Amir it was the beginning of his real life of adventures. During the fasting period, a visitor came to their home. He wore a long white beard and spoke in a deep voice. He had been travelling the world spreading the teachings of their culture, their beliefs and for the young boy, the stranger from a long line of descendants had a treasure chest of knowledge to share, but it was the twinkle in his eyes that made Amir felt there was something familiar about him. On the last day of the fasting he said „goodbye‟ to continue his journey and gifted Amir with a neatly wrapped package, saying quietly, „only for your eyes.‟ That night, in his room, Amir slowly unwrapped the package, knowing in his heart it was something of great value of their past culture and gasped in wonderment as he stared at the carpet, one he had seen in his dreams, so many times. He touched it with trembling fingers,
feeling the texture of the golden thread it was woven with, then he stepped back, shaking his head, thinking, “ This couldn‟t be true, it doesn‟t have magical powers, it‟s just a carpet,”
He felt afraid to believe, but his young heart had loved and believed so much, that it banished his fears and doubts and closing his eyes he stepped on the carpet. In a flash, it lifted with him to the ceiling and stayed there for a short moment, before dropping back to the floor. Amir was speechless, it really had magic. His heart was racing with excitement, he felt like shouting it out to the world then he remembered the Molvi‟s words, took a deep breath and calmed down. No one could know it would be his secret always. He opened the window, quietly and looked outside. It was all dark, the little town was sleeping and stepping on the carpet, he said, “Take me on a journey, carpet.” The carpet rose slowly with the boy and sailed smoothly out the window, over the tree tops and houses, up to the sky. The wind rushed through his hair, warming his face, so filled with joy and excitement and at his request the carpet returned to his room. Amir‟s dreams had certainly come to life. The Molvi was indeed someone from the old world who knew and somehow he had found the boy whose heart had gone back in time and embraced that wonderful culture and only he could the magic carpet belong to, because he was the Alladin of today‟s world.