The Tale of the Fisherman and the Four Colored Fish

In the days when Baghdad was the jewel of the Islamic world and the Caliph Harun al-Rashid ruled with wisdom and justice, there lived on the outskirts of the great city a fisherman whose poverty was matched only by his patience and devotion to Allah. His name was Abu Khalil, and though he worked from dawn to dusk casting his nets into the Tigris River, fortune seemed always to turn her face away from him.

Abu Khalil lived in a small mud-brick house with his wife Fatima and their young daughter Zainab. His wife was a patient woman who never complained about their humble circumstances, and his daughter was a bright child whose laughter could lighten even the darkest days. Though they had little in the way of worldly possessions, their home was filled with love and contentment.

Each morning, Abu Khalil would rise before dawn, perform his prayers, and make his way to the river with his ancient fishing net—a net that had belonged to his father and grandfather before him. The net was patched and re-patched so many times that it resembled a patchwork quilt more than a fishing implement, but it was all he had, and he treated it with the respect due to a faithful companion.

Day after day, month after month, Abu Khalil would cast his net into the murky waters of the Tigris, and day after day he would pull it up containing nothing but weeds, river mud, and the occasional worthless trinket discarded by passersby. His neighbors often mocked him for his persistence.

“Abu Khalil,” they would say, “surely even you must realize that this stretch of the river has been fished out for years. Why do you waste your time here when you could find work in the city markets?”

But Abu Khalil would smile and reply, “Allah provides for those who trust in Him. Perhaps today will be the day when patience is rewarded.”

On a morning in early spring, when the air was fresh with the promise of new life and the river ran high with melted snow from the distant mountains, Abu Khalil made his way to his usual fishing spot with his customary hope and determination. But as he prepared to cast his net, an old man appeared beside him as if from nowhere.

The stranger was unlike anyone Abu Khalil had ever seen. Though he appeared to be elderly, there was something ageless about his eyes, and his simple white robes seemed to glow with their own inner light. When he spoke, his voice carried the authority of one accustomed to being obeyed.

“Peace be upon you, faithful fisherman,” the old man said. “I have been watching you for many months, and I am impressed by your patience and devotion. Today, Allah will reward your faithfulness, but you must listen carefully to my instructions.”

Abu Khalil bowed respectfully. “Peace be upon you as well, venerable sir. I am honored by your words, but I am just a poor fisherman trying to provide for his family.”

“Indeed,” the old man replied, “and it is precisely because you fish not for sport or greed, but out of necessity and devotion to your family, that you have been chosen for this blessing. Today, you must cast your net not here, but in the deep pool beneath the old bridge. Cast it exactly three times, no more and no less, and accept whatever Allah provides.”

Before Abu Khalil could ask any questions, the mysterious stranger vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving only the faint scent of jasmine in the air. Though puzzled by this encounter, the fisherman decided to follow the old man’s instructions. After all, his usual fishing spot had provided nothing for weeks—what harm could there be in trying somewhere new?

The deep pool beneath the old bridge was a place Abu Khalil had always avoided. Local legend claimed it was haunted by djinn, and the water there was so dark and still that it seemed almost solid. But remembering the old man’s words, he walked to the edge of the pool and cast his net for the first time.

When he pulled the net up, it contained only an old brass lamp, tarnished with age and covered with strange engravings. Disappointed but remembering the instruction to cast three times, Abu Khalil set the lamp aside and cast his net again.

The second cast brought up an ancient copper pot, large enough to cook a meal for a dozen people but blackened with age and filled with what appeared to be ordinary river mud.

For his third and final cast, Abu Khalil said a prayer and threw his net with all his strength into the deepest part of the pool. This time, when he pulled it up, he could hardly believe his eyes.

The net contained four fish, but they were unlike any fish he had ever seen. Each was perfectly formed and beautiful, but each was of a different color—one pure white, one brilliant red, one deep blue, and one golden yellow. Moreover, the fish seemed to shimmer with an inner light, and their eyes held an intelligence that was distinctly unsettling.

As Abu Khalil stared at his miraculous catch, the four fish began to speak, their voices harmonizing in a manner that was both beautiful and mysterious.

“O fisherman,” they said in unison, “we are not what we appear to be. We are victims of a great injustice, transformed by magic from our true forms. If you would do a deed of mercy that will be rewarded beyond your imagination, take us to the Caliph Harun al-Rashid himself. Tell him that you have caught the Four Princes of the Hidden Kingdom, and ask him to listen to our tale.”

Abu Khalil was so amazed by the fish’s ability to speak that for a moment he could only stare in wonder. But when he recovered his composure, he asked, “How can I, a poor fisherman, gain audience with the Commander of the Faithful? He will never believe my tale.”

“Show him the lamp and the pot you caught first,” the white fish replied. “These are tokens that he will recognize, for they belong to the royal treasury of the Hidden Kingdom. When he sees them, he will know that you speak the truth.”

Though the entire situation seemed impossible, Abu Khalil decided to trust in the strange events of the morning. He carefully placed the four fish in a large clay jar filled with water from the pool, gathered up the lamp and pot, and made his way toward the Caliph’s palace in Baghdad.

As he had expected, the guards at the palace gate initially refused to let a poor fisherman enter. But when Abu Khalil showed them the lamp and pot, describing the strange engravings and the circumstances under which he had found them, the captain of the guard grew thoughtful.

“These items do indeed bear markings I have seen before,” the captain said. “Wait here while I consult with the Caliph’s advisors.”

Within an hour, Abu Khalil found himself standing in the magnificent throne room of Harun al-Rashid, the most powerful ruler in the Islamic world. The Caliph was a man of middle years with intelligent eyes and a carefully groomed beard. He examined the lamp and pot with great interest before turning his attention to the fisherman.

“These items,” the Caliph said, “are indeed from the royal treasury of a kingdom that vanished mysteriously over a year ago. The Kingdom of the Four Cities was one of our most loyal vassals, ruled by four brothers who were models of justice and wisdom. One day, all communication with the kingdom ceased, and when we sent investigators, they found the entire realm empty—every person, every animal, every bird had simply vanished.”

He looked at Abu Khalil with keen interest. “You say you have caught four fish that claim to be princes? Bring them forward, and let me hear their tale.”

Abu Khalil carefully brought forth the jar containing the four colored fish. In the presence of the Caliph, the fish began to tell their story, their voices filling the throne room with melodious harmony.

“O Commander of the Faithful,” the white fish began, “I am Prince Bahram, eldest of four brothers who ruled the Kingdom of the Four Cities. This realm was divided among us—I ruled the White City in the north, my brother Darius ruled the Red City in the east, Cyrus ruled the Blue City in the south, and young Xerxes ruled the Golden City in the west.”

“Our kingdom was prosperous and our people happy,” continued the red fish, “for we four brothers ruled with justice and wisdom, consulting together on all important matters and ensuring that no citizen was oppressed or neglected.”

“But our happiness attracted the envy of an evil sorcerer,” the blue fish added. “Malik al-Aswad the Accursed had long sought to control our kingdom, coveting both our wealth and our strategic location on the trade routes between East and West.”

“When we refused his demands to surrender our sovereignty to him,” the yellow fish concluded, “he cast a terrible curse upon our entire realm. Every living being in the kingdom was transformed—we four brothers became the fish you see before you, while our people were turned to stone, condemned to remain as statues until the curse is broken.”

The Caliph listened to this tale with growing anger and concern. “This Malik al-Aswad—where is he now? And how can this curse be broken?”

“The sorcerer has made his stronghold in the Palace of Shadows, which he has raised in the center of our former kingdom,” the white fish replied. “As for breaking the curse, it can only be done by one who acts not for personal gain but out of pure desire for justice, and who is willing to face the sorcerer in his place of power.”

Harun al-Rashid stood and began to pace, his mind working rapidly. “This evil cannot be allowed to continue. Not only have innocent people been condemned to a living death, but if this sorcerer is not stopped, his power will only grow until he threatens other kingdoms as well.”

The Caliph called for his Grand Wazir, Ja’far the Barmecide, and his military commanders. “Prepare an expedition,” he commanded. “We will travel to this Hidden Kingdom and confront this sorcerer. No ruler worthy of the name can ignore such an injustice.”

But the four fish spoke urgently: “O Commander of the Faithful, military might alone cannot defeat Malik al-Aswad. His power comes from dark magic, and conventional weapons cannot harm him. Only one who is pure of heart and motivated by justice rather than glory can hope to succeed against him.”

At these words, Abu Khalil stepped forward. Though his knees shook with fear, his voice was steady as he spoke: “O Commander of the Faithful, perhaps it is not coincidence that brought these princes to my net. I am but a simple fisherman with no skills in war or magic, but my heart is free from the desire for glory or wealth. If Allah wills it, perhaps a humble man can succeed where mighty warriors might fail.”

The Caliph looked at Abu Khalil with surprise and growing respect. “You would volunteer for such a dangerous mission? What could motivate a simple fisherman to risk his life for people he has never met?”

“The same thing that motivated me to bring these talking fish to your palace instead of simply taking them home to feed my family,” Abu Khalil replied. “Justice is not the privilege of the powerful—it is the responsibility of anyone who has the ability to act. These princes and their people have suffered a great wrong, and if I can help set it right, then I must try.”

The four fish spoke with one voice: “This man has the heart of a true hero. If he will accept our guidance, we believe he can succeed where others would fail.”

And so it was decided. The Caliph provided Abu Khalil with a horse, supplies, and a small escort of trusted guards, though it was understood that the final confrontation would have to be faced alone. The four fish were placed in a special traveling container that would allow them to survive the journey and provide counsel along the way.

The journey to the Hidden Kingdom took many days, through landscapes that grew increasingly desolate as they approached their destination. Finally, they reached a valley that should have been green and fertile but instead lay under a pall of unnatural darkness. In the center of this valley stood four cities, but they were cities of silence and shadow—every building intact, every street perfectly preserved, but populated only by stone statues frozen in the midst of their daily activities.

“Behold,” said the white fish sadly, “our former kingdom. Every statue you see was once a living person—merchants conducting business, children playing in the streets, mothers caring for their families. All condemned to this fate because of one man’s greed and evil.”

In the center of the four cities rose a new structure that had not been there before—a black tower that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. This was the Palace of Shadows, stronghold of Malik al-Aswad.

Abu Khalil left his escort at the edge of the valley, for this final part of the journey he would have to make alone. Carrying the jar with the four fish, he walked through the silent streets of the petrified cities, his heart breaking at the sight of so much suspended life.

As he approached the black tower, its gates swung open without a sound, and a voice echoed from within—cold, mocking, and filled with malevolent power.

“Welcome, little fisherman,” the voice called. “I am Malik al-Aswad, master of this realm. I have been watching your approach with great amusement. Do you truly believe that a simple man like yourself can undo what I have accomplished?”

Abu Khalil entered the tower, his hands trembling but his resolve firm. “I believe that justice is stronger than evil, and that Allah protects those who stand for what is right.”

The sorcerer appeared before him—a tall figure draped in robes of midnight black, his face hidden beneath a hood that seemed to contain depths of darkness. In his hands he held a staff topped with a crystal that pulsed with sickly green light.

“Justice?” Malik al-Aswad laughed, and his laughter was like the sound of grinding stone. “I am justice! I am the strong taking what belongs to the strong! These princes and their people were weak, and the weak deserve no mercy!”

“Strength is not measured by the ability to cause suffering,” Abu Khalil replied, surprised by his own courage. “True strength lies in the willingness to protect those who cannot protect themselves.”

“Pretty words,” the sorcerer sneered, “but words will not save you or these pathetic fish-princes. However, I am feeling generous today. I will give you a chance—answer three riddles correctly, and I will release one quarter of the curse with each correct answer. But if you fail even once, you will join your fish friends in their aquatic prison.”

Abu Khalil knew he had no choice but to accept this challenge. “I agree to your terms.”

The sorcerer’s first riddle was this: “What grows stronger when it is shared, richer when it is given away, and more valuable when it costs the giver something precious?”

Abu Khalil thought of his humble home, of his wife’s patience during their hardest times, of his daughter’s laughter even when there was little food on the table. “Love,” he answered. “Love grows stronger when shared, becomes richer when given freely, and is most valuable when it requires sacrifice.”

The sorcerer scowled as the green crystal on his staff dimmed slightly. Around the valley, one quarter of the stone statues began to stir and return to life—the people of the White City began to move and breathe again.

The second riddle followed: “What is the treasure that increases when spent, the weapon that conquers by surrendering, and the power that rules by serving?”

This riddle was harder, but Abu Khalil thought of the old man who had guided him to the fish, of the Caliph who had risked his own safety to pursue justice, of his own decision to undertake this dangerous mission. “Wisdom,” he said. “True wisdom increases when it is shared with others, conquers pride by admitting ignorance, and gains power by putting others’ needs first.”

Again the crystal dimmed, and the people of the Red City returned to life.

The third riddle came with visible anger from the sorcerer: “What is the light that shines brightest in darkness, the hope that grows strongest in despair, and the victory that is won through apparent defeat?”

Abu Khalil closed his eyes and thought of everything he had learned during this quest—about the importance of persevering even when success seemed impossible, about the courage that comes from fighting for others rather than oneself, about the mysterious ways in which Allah could work through the most humble instruments.

“Faith,” he answered. “Faith shines brightest when all seems lost, grows strongest when circumstances seem hopeless, and achieves victory through submission to Allah’s will rather than reliance on our own strength.”

As the crystal dimmed further, the people of the Blue City came back to life. But the sorcerer was not finished.

“You have done well with my riddles, fisherman,” Malik al-Aswad hissed, “but there remains one final test. The princes themselves can only be restored to their true forms if you can solve the riddle of their curse. Tell me—what was the true source of my power over them?”

Abu Khalil looked at the four fish, seeing the hope and trust in their intelligent eyes. Then he looked at the sorcerer, studying the man’s posture and expression. Suddenly, understanding dawned.

“Your power over them came not from superior magic,” Abu Khalil said slowly, “but from their own doubt. They believed themselves unworthy of their positions because they were young and had inherited their thrones rather than earning them through great deeds. Your curse could only work because part of them believed they deserved to be punished.”

The sorcerer’s face went pale. “Impossible! How could you know—”

“Because I see the same doubt in myself,” Abu Khalil continued. “I am just a poor fisherman who has caught some magical fish. What right do I have to challenge a powerful sorcerer? But I have learned that our worth is not determined by our origins or our circumstances, but by our willingness to do what is right when the moment calls for it.”

He turned to address the four fish directly: “Noble princes, you have proven your worth not through great conquests or inherited titles, but through your care for your people and your willingness to suffer for their sake. You are worthy not because of what you were born to, but because of what you chose to become.”

As Abu Khalil spoke these words, the jar containing the four fish began to glow with brilliant light. The fish themselves began to change and grow, their forms shifting and expanding until four handsome young men stood before him, dressed in royal robes and crowned with circlets of gold.

The transformation broke the last of the sorcerer’s power. Malik al-Aswad let out a shriek of rage and defeat as his staff shattered and his robes of darkness dissolved. Without his stolen power, he appeared as he truly was—a bitter, envious man whose hatred had consumed his own humanity.

“You have won this round, fisherman,” he gasped as his form began to fade. “But this is not the end. Evil never truly dies—it only waits for another opportunity.”

“Perhaps,” Abu Khalil replied sadly, “but neither does good. And as long as there are people willing to stand for justice and truth, evil will never have the final victory.”

The sorcerer vanished with a final cry of frustration, and the black tower began to crumble. As it fell, the last remnants of the curse were broken, and throughout the valley, the people of the Golden City returned to life.

The four princes embraced Abu Khalil with tears of gratitude, and soon they were surrounded by their restored subjects—men, women, and children who had been trapped as statues but who remembered everything that had happened during their enchantment.

“Noble fisherman,” said Prince Bahram, the eldest brother, “you have given us back our lives and our kingdom. How can we ever repay such a debt?”

“By ruling wisely and justly,” Abu Khalil replied, “and by remembering that true strength comes from serving others, not from dominating them.”

The celebration that followed lasted for seven days and seven nights. The four princes offered Abu Khalil any reward he might desire—wealth, titles, lands, or position in their court. But the humble fisherman asked for only three things: safe passage home to his family, enough gold to ensure that his wife and daughter would never again know poverty, and the promise that the Kingdom of the Four Cities would always offer aid to those in need.

All three requests were granted gladly. When Abu Khalil finally returned to Baghdad, he was received as a hero by the Caliph Harun al-Rashid. The story of his courage and wisdom spread throughout the Islamic world, inspiring countless others to remember that heroism is not about strength or magic, but about the willingness to do what is right regardless of the personal cost.

Abu Khalil used his reward to build a larger house for his family and to establish a fund that would provide assistance to other poor fishermen. But he never forgot the lessons he had learned during his adventure. He continued to fish the Tigris River, though now more for the peace and contemplation it provided than from necessity.

Sometimes, when the moon was full and the water was particularly clear, Abu Khalil would see four colored fish swimming in the depths—but these were ordinary fish, blessed perhaps, but no longer bearing the burden of royal responsibility. And he would smile, knowing that somewhere in a distant valley, four cities thrived under the just rule of princes who had learned that true kingship meant service to others.

The brass lamp and copper pot that had first caught his attention were returned to the Kingdom of the Four Cities, where they were placed in a place of honor as reminders of the day when a humble fisherman’s faith and courage saved an entire realm from darkness.

And Abu Khalil’s own fishing net, patched and re-patched though it was, was never again empty when he cast it into the waters of the Tigris. For it is said that Allah always provides for those who trust in Him and who are willing to use whatever blessings they receive in service of justice and truth.

Thus ends the tale of the fisherman and the four colored fish, a story that reminds us that the greatest magic is the transformation that occurs when ordinary people choose to act with extraordinary courage, and that the most powerful spells are those woven from faith, justice, and selfless love.