Along the shimmering coastline of Tarout Island, where the waters of the Arabian Gulf glimmer like liquid turquoise and the salty breeze carries stories of ancient sailors, lived a young pearl diver named Hamad. His village, rooted in the traditions of Al-Ahsa and the surrounding islands, depended on the sea for its livelihood. Generations of divers had braved the deep to search for pearls, returning with treasures that helped sustain their families.
Hamad was the youngest diver in his family, slender and agile, with lungs as strong as a seasoned sailor’s and a determination that burned brighter than the Gulf sun. From an early age, he learned to understand the rhythm of the tides, the pull of the currents, and the whispering hum of the ocean floor. What set him apart most was a rare gift, he could hold his breath longer than any diver in the village, sometimes staying beneath the surface until others feared he would never rise again.
With each diving season, Hamad’s confidence grew. Pride began to settle into his heart, a subtle yet persistent feeling that he was destined for greater discoveries than the divers before him.
One year, as the boats prepared for the season, rumors began to spread across Tarout’s sandy shores. The elders spoke in hushed tones of the “King Pearl,” a fabled gem said to glow with the light of a hundred moons. It was believed to lie hidden in a deep, treacherous oyster bed, a place avoided even by master divers. Some said it was guarded by a Marid, a powerful water jinn known to dwell in the Gulf’s darkest caverns.
Most dismissed the tale as superstition meant to keep reckless boys from dangerous depths.
But Hamad’s pride ignited.
If anyone can claim the King Pearl, he thought, it is I.
Ignoring his family’s warnings, Hamad promised himself he would find the legendary treasure. One morning, before the other divers set out, he took a small dhow and rowed into waters where the sea turned a deep, foreboding blue. Anchoring near a jagged coral ridge, he tied the weighted rope around his waist and prepared to descend.
The world beneath the surface was silent and cold. Light filtered down in silver ribbons as Hamad moved deeper, the pressure tightening around his chest. Schools of small fish scattered around him like shards of moving glass. The seabed grew darker still as he reached the oyster bed whispered about in stories, a graveyard of massive shells half-buried in sand.
Then he saw it.
Nestled between two colossal oysters was a shell unlike any he had ever encountered. Its surface shimmered faintly, as though lit from within. Hamad pried it open with trembling hands, and the moment the shell parted, a radiant glow burst forth.
There it was, the King Pearl.
Its brilliance was soft yet powerful, like the glow of moonlight reflecting across water at night. Hamad felt his heart race with triumph.
But in his moment of victory, he failed to notice the silent danger. The oyster’s heavy edge suddenly snapped shut, trapping his wrist. Panic erupted inside him as he struggled against the crushing force. His lungs began to burn.
A swirling current shifted around him, and from the dim water emerged a shape, not monstrous, but unmistakably otherworldly. The figure resolved into an old man with flowing white hair, his robe rippling as though made of water itself. His eyes shone with the depth of the sea.
“Do not fear,” the figure said, his voice echoing as though carried through currents. “I am the Marid who guards this place.”
Hamad froze, torn between fear and desperation.
The Marid gestured to the glowing pearl.
“This treasure holds the light of a hundred moons. Such radiance is not gained without a price.”
Hamad’s trapped wrist throbbed, and his breath was seconds from giving out.
“What price?” he gasped.
The Marid’s expression was neither cruel nor kind, only ancient.
“You may leave with your life and the pearl, if you are willing to trade either your years or your memories.”
Hamad’s mind spun. His youth was his pride, without it, he would lose everything he hoped to become. But memories? To forget the greatest dive of his life? To lose the moment of triumph he had chased so fiercely?
As the crushing pressure of the deep closed around him, his choice became clear.
“My memory,” he whispered.
The Marid nodded. With a wave of his hand, the oyster released him. Darkness clouded Hamad’s mind for a heartbeat, then cleared. His body instinctively surged upward, pushing against the suffocating water until he burst through the surface, gasping for air.
When he climbed into his dhow, the King Pearl lay in his hand, glowing softly as though listening to the rhythm of the waves.
But something was missing.
Hamad stared at the pearl, admiring its otherworldly beauty, yet felt no spark of triumph, only a hollow space where the memory of his dive should have been. No matter how he tried to recall how he had found it, what dangers he faced, or the exact spot where the legendary oyster bed lay, his mind returned a quiet void.
The villagers marveled at the pearl’s radiance, but Hamad could never tell them the story behind it. He could not guide others back to the place he had discovered. The memory, the pride, the fear, the wonder, was gone forever.
And so, Hamad learned that the sea gives gifts sparingly, always asking a price in return. Some treasures, no matter how bright, carry a cost that dims the soul.
Moral of the Story
This tale teaches that pride can blind us to danger, and that some treasures come with unseen sacrifices. Wisdom lies in recognizing that not all glimmers are meant to be claimed.
Knowledge Check
1. What lesson does “The Pearl Diver of Tarout Island” teach?
It warns that great treasures often require sacrifices and that pride can lead to costly choices.
2. Who guards the King Pearl in the Arabian folktale?
A Marid, a powerful water jinn, guards the deep oyster bed.
3. What made Hamad a remarkable pearl diver?
He could hold his breath longer than anyone in his village.
4. What choice does the Marid offer Hamad?
To trade either his years or his memories in exchange for the pearl.
5. What memory does Hamad lose after taking the King Pearl?
He loses all memory of the dive and how he found the pearl.
6. Where does the folktale of the Pearl Diver originate?
It originates from Tarout Island and the Eastern Province of Arabia.
Source
Adapted from Eastern Province oral histories in Darah’s archives on Gulf maritime heritage.
