Ramadan Arabian Nights 2025: The Tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima “Prince Karwan” EP.23

Ramadan Karim

But first, it is our time for a little chit-chat.

Tonight, we are introduced to a new character, as you may have guessed from the title of our night, “Prince Karwan”

In Classical Arabic, Karwan or الكروان typically refers to a curlew, which is a type of wading bird known for its long, curved bill and distinctive, melancholic call.

A curlew or a Karwan

However, in Egyptian Arabic, especially in literature and songs, Karwan is often used more poetically to refer to a nightingale or a songbird—a bird with a beautiful voice.

Curlews live in Egypt, mostly as migratory birds. Thanks to its location along the East Africa–West Asia Flyway, Egypt serves as an important stopover and wintering site for many migratory species, including curlews. While they are not permanent residents, curlews are regular visitors during the autumn and spring migration seasons.

Thanks to its location along the East Africa–West Asia Flyway, Egypt serves as an important stopover and wintering site for many migratory species, including curlews. While they are not permanent residents, curlews are regular visitors during the autumn and spring migration seasons.

While not extremely common, nightingales can be found in Egypt’s gardens, groves, and along the Nile, particularly during migration seasons or in more temperate, vegetated areas.

Egypt is also home to a diverse array of songbirds, both native and migratory, thanks to its strategic location on major migratory routes and its varied habitats.

Now we will stop talking about birds and let’s continue our tale.

And without further delay, here is the 695th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 23rd night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.

Episode 23rd: Prince Karwan

        When it was the six hundred and ninety-fifth night, King Shahryar took his seat as he had on the previous evening, and Scheherazade approached at her accustomed hour. After greeting him with due reverence, she sat before him and began to speak and recount, saying:

“It hath reached me, O auspicious King, O wise and discerning sovereign, that greed rarely gathers what it seeks, and he who digs a well for his brother may find himself the first to fall therein. And the tale of Halima’s discovery of the Honey-Well, and all that befell thereafter, stands as a most vivid parable.

For it was the wont of Reema to take Halima by the hand and steal away beneath the veil of night, while all the townsfolk lay asleep. And each time, they would lift the great stone slab that sealed the mouth of that unknown shaft, and Reema would bid the girl descend into the depth of the well to draw forth honey as much as she pleased, filling jug after jug until the vessel brimmed. Then would Reema stretch down her arm to pull her up once more, seal the mouth of the well with stone, and erase every trace of their trespass.

Yet the honey neared its end, or so it seemed, though Reema herself had no need of it—for she possessed the Jewel of the Crown, a gem beyond all price, one that could have secured her every comfort and spared her from want. But instead, she concealed it, never displaying it save to cast her eyes upon it and reassure herself of its presence. And truly, he who holds himself cheap shall be held cheaply, and Allah doeth what He willeth among His creation.

Now in Reema’s chamber, she drew forth the gem from its hidden place, whispering to herself:

Reema (softly): "The Jewel of the Crown—how it comforts me! I keep it hidden… yet each day I must return to gaze upon it."
(A low, wicked laugh is heard)
"How much is it worth, this jewel? Enough to buy the world!
My treasure… my beloved… it suffices just to see it with mine eyes, to feel it with my own hands…
Jewel of the Crown…”

[A knock resounds at the door.]

Reema, startled, mutters:

"Woe upon haste! Hide it, Reema!"

She swiftly conceals the gem and goes to open the door.

Reema: "Mishkah?"
Mishkah: "Mishkah, Mishkah—dancer, prancer, whether coming or going, he cares not for the pretty girls showing!"

Reema (laughing): "Heeheehee! Mischief finds you, Mishkah!"

Mishkah: "Where are the girls?"

Reema: "They just stepped out."

Mishkah: "Both of them?"

Reema: "And what business have you with the girls? Where are the ration slips?"

Mishkah: "Here are the slips."

Reema (counting): "One, two, three… five slips!"

Mishkah: "And I expect more than my due."

Reema: "How many shrouds is that worth?"

Mishkah: "Listen to what I shall tell you."

Reema (dubiously): "Hmm?"

Mishkah: "Spit out that sugar on your tongue—I'm not burying the dead nor stealing their shrouds!"

Reema: "Indeed, indeed, indeed…"

Mishkah: "You hold the Crown Jewel that could purchase this land entire, and you’ve barrels of honey to spare!"

Reema (warning): "Mishkah!"

Mishkah: "Reema!"

Reema: "Why do you refuse to understand? Do you not see? If these things were ever revealed—what do you think would happen?"

Mishkah: "But—"

Reema (cutting him off): "No 'but'! Hold your tongue, or I swear I’ll divorce you and be rid of you!"

Mishkah (startled): "Di-di-divorce me?"

Reema: "Aye—and I’ll report you as well!"

Mishkah: "Why cast me away?"

Reema: "You dare ask? I must have been mad to take you!"

Mishkah (pleading): "Please, Reema…"

[A second knock at the door.]

Reema: "Go—open for the girls."

Mishkah: "The girls?"

Reema: "And mind your gaze—should you so much as glance their way, I shall be the one to ask the questions."

Now, in the realm of the jinn, upon the Island of Oblivion, where time forgets its own passing and memory slips through the fingers like mist, events stirred and hearts beat with questions unanswered.

Karima approached with trembling steps, and her eyes sought only one — the prince of her heart.

Karima: "My lord the prince, Zahran…"

Zahran (turning to her gently): "Karima…"

Karima: "God willing, all is well?"

Zahran: "All is well."

Karima: "You have seen the Sultan?"

Zahran: "I have seen him."

Karima: "And you spoke to him?"

Zahran: "I spoke to him."

Karima: "What did he say to you? And what did you say to him? Why are you silent?"

Zahran (with hesitation): "See, O human girl, I myself remain torn in thought concerning this affair."

At this, Karima’s eyes brimmed with sorrow, and she wept, saying:

Karima: "So you do not believe me? None wish to believe me! You alone, O Lord, know what dwells within my breast!"

Zahran (moved by her lament): "Do not weep… do not weep, O daughter of the clay-born."

Karima: "You know not what I suffer!"

Zahran: "Your tears, O Karima, pierce the veil of my heart and leave it raw."

Karima: "Speak! What did you tell your father? And what did he say to you? Why do you conceal it from me?"

Zahran: "My mind is in conflict… it takes and gives, doubts and considers."

Karima: "So something did occur?"

Zahran: "Indeed. I went to my father, the Sultan, despite the doubts that gnawed at my thoughts. I knew his heart was burdened by the illness of my brother, Prince Karwan. Still, I stepped into the Diwan, and when he beheld me, he turned before I could greet him and said—"

Sultan Golan: “Zahran… where have you been, my son? Where have you been?”

Zahran: “You summoned me, Father?”

Sultan Golan: “Have you seen your brother Karwan? Have you seen the state he’s in?”

Zahran: “May the Almighty restore his health.”

Sultan Golan: “But it’s been too long, son… too long. I don’t know what to do anymore. The healers refuse to enter his chamber. Not one dares approach him. Even the priest-physician has raised his hands and stepped back!”

Zahran: “May I speak, Father?”

Sultan Golan: “Speak.”

Zahran: “You said you would give half your kingdom to whoever heals him…”

Sultan Golan: “I did. And what was the result? Every charlatan in the realm — every fraud and fortune-seeker — came claiming they had the cure. They paraded through the palace as if it were a market of magic and madness. None knew his ailment, and none found his remedy. So I placed beside the grand reward an equal punishment. I decreed: He who dares to touch the prince and fails… shall lose his head.”

Zahran: “And you gave the order?”

Sultan Golan: “And I enforced it. That silenced the pretenders.”

Zahran: “And it silenced even those who were not pretenders.”

Sultan Golan: “God does as He wills.”

Zahran: “But by doing this, Father, you have barred all true healers from his side. No physician will dare come near him now — not when they’ve seen the heads of those who tried before.”

Sultan Golan: “What are you saying, Zahran?”

Zahran: “That your decree… frightens even the righteous. It doesn’t invite healing. It invites silence.”

Sultan Golan: “And should I sit idle? Should I let them gamble with my son’s life? Should I let every hopeful fool try his hand, hoping for fame and favor? That’s what we had before — a parade of madness! That is why I issued my command: Let no man approach the prince unless he knows the cure. And if he fails — let his head fall. Now, you fall silent…?”

Zahran: “What can I say?”

Sultan Golan: “These orders protect him. They protect us. And they do not forbid the one who truly knows the remedy.”

Zahran: “May God guide us to what is best.”

Sultan Golan: “God is great.”

Zahran: “Then I’ll take my leave, Father.”

Sultan Golan: “Wait, Zahran… my son. Is that why you came to me?”

Zahran: “Truthfully, there is… another matter.”

Sultan Golan: “What is it?”

Zahran: “The human girl.”

Sultan Golan: “The human? Ah… yes. The one we imprisoned. What of her?”

Zahran: “I’ll speak of her another time.”

Sultan Golan: “Is there something you need from me?”

Zahran: “Perhaps…”

Sultan Golan: “Then why not speak now?”

Zahran: “Because I believe… another time would be more fitting, Father. I will speak when the hour is right. For now, I ask your leave.”

Sultan Golan: “Very well. Before you go — visit your brother. Go to him.”

Zahran: “Of course. I will.”

Sultan Golan: “May the Lord watch over him…”

(And with that, the prince withdrew from the Diwan, the heavy door of the royal chamber closing softly behind him, the echo of it lingering like a sigh through the palace corridors.)

Zahran (continuing his story to Karima):

And I closed the door behind me… left my father’s chamber… not knowing what to do or where to turn.

Karima: So you didn’t speak to him? You didn’t convince him?

Zahran: You saw his state… how could I speak? How could I argue while his heart and mind were consumed like that?

Karima: And what now? Do I just stay here… forgotten… forever?

Zahran: You don’t know how much my thoughts are tied to you. I ask myself every moment — Why? Why do I care this much?

Karima: God softens hearts… heart to heart.

Zahran: And God is the Master of all hearts.

Karima: I… I don’t even know how to thank you. I’ll never forget your kindness.

Zahran: Karima…

Karima: My lord…

Zahran: Leave that — don’t call me “my lord.”

Karima: But… how can I not?

Zahran: Because I’m just like you. Nothing makes me more or less. I’m just someone who wants to help you… and I don’t even know why I care this much.

Karima: May God bless your life… may He ease your burden.

Zahran: Have faith… have peace, O human soul.

Karima (weeping): I’m not mad. I swear to you I’m not mad. I’m just wronged. Reema… that cursed Reema — she’s the one who framed me.

Zahran: Alright… alright. Calm yourself, please. Calm down, O woman of sorrow.

Karima: If only my cry could reach the Sultan…

Zahran: God is with us. Be strong — hold on. I’ll return to you, Karima.

Karima: Go in peace.

And on another dark night,
Reema and Halima stood beside the honey pit.

Reema: There. We’ve lifted the stone.

Halima: Again, Auntie? Every night?

Reema: Down you go. Don’t be silly.

Halima: Alright, alright… I’m going.

Reema: Did you reach the bottom?

Halima: Yes, Auntie. I’m down.

Reema: Look carefully inside—
Is there still plenty of honey?

Halima: Just enough for one more fill.

Reema: Then let’s fill the jar. Quickly.

Halima: Here’s the ladle, Auntie.

Reema: Give it here, my sweet girl.

Halima: Take it.

Reema: Good—
Let’s hurry and fill the small cask.

Halima: Here you go, Auntie Reema.

Reema: Bless your hands, Halima.
Here, take the ladle back.

Halima: There’s still more, Auntie.

Reema: That’s enough for tonight.

Halima: Then come, give me your hand—help me up.

Reema: Come along.

And so Reema pulled Halima up from the pit.

Halima: Now what, Auntie?

Reema: As always, my dear.

Halima: We put the slab back.

Reema: And heap the sand over it.

Halima: Come on then.

And Shahrzad said: 

Thus things remained until the honey was hidden once again—

At this moment, Shahrazad realized that the morning had arrived, so she fell silent, leaving the story unfinished.

Here is the 23rd episode of our tale, televised

You can check previous Ramadan Arabian Nights here.

In the spirit of Ramadan, I invite you to support UNICEF’s relief efforts in Gaza and Sudan, as well as elsewhere on the globe. Every pound, dollar, or euro can make a difference.

Till next night inshallah