|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
|
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
|
|
|||||||
The use of a light
After the villigers asked Mulla Nasrudin if he can see in
the dark.
'I can see in the dark,' shouted Nasrudin in the teahouse.
'If that is so, then why do we see you sometimes carrying a
light through the streets in the dark?', asked the villigers.
Nasiruddin replyed,'Only to prevent other people from colliding
with me.'
Prudence
The Mulla was invited to a wedding feast. The last time he had
been to that house, someone took off with his sandals. Now,
instead of leaving them at the door, he stuffed them into the
pockets of his coat.
After seeing Mulla Nasiruddin carrying a heavy object in the
coat pocket The host asked Mulla Nasiruddin,'What book is that
in your pocket?'
Mulla Nasiruddin thought the host may be after his shoes.
He has to keep his reputation, so he told his host the
subject in his poket is 'Prudence'.
The host exclaimed 'How interesting! which bookshop did you
get it from?'
Mulla Nasiruddin replied that he got it from a shoemaker.
The Answer
One day there was a chinees monk travelling through Mulla
Nasiruddins village in search for a question that he cannot
answer. He entered the teahouse where Mulla Nasiruddin was
also present there. The monk start bragging that there is
no question without an answer'.
The monk was bragging how he was challenged by many scholar
with an un-answerable question,'
Mulla observed, he couldn't take this nonsence any more, he
has a reputation to keep, so he walked up to the Monk and
asked may I ask you one question.
Tell it to me, and I shall answer it said the Monk.
'Very well, Why are you breaking into my house through a
window at night?' said Mulla.
Idiots
Carrying home a heavy load of delicate glassware, Mulla
Nasrudin dropped it in the street from his shoulder.
Everything was smashed and brokend into peices.
The crowd on the street gathered and were starring at Mulla.
'What's the matter with you, idiots? Haven't
you ever seen a fool before?' shouted Mulla.
If Allah wills it
Nasrudin had saved up to buy a new shirt. He went
to a tailor's shop, full of excitement. The tailor
measured him and said: 'Come back in a week, and
if Allah wills-your shirt will be ready.'
The Mulla contained himself for a week and then went back
to the shop.
'There has been a delay. But if Allah wills-your shirt will be
ready tomorrow.'
The following day Nasrudin returned. 'I am sorry,' said the
tailor, 'but it is not quite finished. Try tomorrow, and if Allah
wills-it will be ready.'
'How long will it take', asked the exasperated Nasrudin, 'if you
leave Allah out of it?'
A Great Thought
One day Nasrudin asked his wife to cook haiwa, a rich
sweetmeat, and gave her all the ingredients. She made
a large quantity, and the Mulla ate nearly all of it.
That night when they were in bed, he woke her up.
'I have just had a remarkable thought.'
'What is it?'
'Bring me the rest of the halwa, and I will tell you.'
She got up and brought him the halwa, which he ate. 'Now',
she said, 'I shall not be able to sleep until you tell me the
thought.'
'The thought', said Nasrudin, 'was this: "Never go to sleep
without finishing all the halwa which has been made during the
day."
The Exploit
In the teahouse, some soldiers were boasting about their
recent Campaign. The local inhabitants crowded eagerly
around them to listen.
'And', one fearsome looking warrior was saying, 'I took my
double-edged sword and charged the enemy, scattering them to
right and left like chaff. We carried the day.'
There was a gasp of applause.
'That reminds me', said Nasrudin, who had seen a few battles
in his time, 'of the tinac when I cut off the leg of an enemy on
the
battlefield. Severed it right through.'
'You would have done better, sir,' replied the captain of the
soldiers, 'to have cut off his head.'
'That would have been impossible,' said the Mulla, 'You see'
someone else had already done that.'
Obligation
The Mulla nearly fell into a pool. A man whom he knew
slightly was near and saved him. Every time he met
Nasrudin after that he would remind him of the service
which he had performed.
When this had happened several times Nasrudin took him to
the water, jumped in, stood with his head just above water and
shouted: 'Now I am as wet as I would have been if you had not
saved me! Leave me alone.'
Fixed ideas
How old are you, Mulla?'
'Forty.'
'But you said the same last time I asked you, two years ago!'
'Yes, I always stand by what I have said.'
Which is my half?
Nasrudin and a friend were thirsty, and stopped at a
cafe for a drink. They decided to share a glass of milk.
'You drink your half first,' said the friend, 'because I have
some sugar here, just enough for one. I shall add this to my
share
of the milk and drink it.'
'Add it now,' said the Mulla, 'and I will drink only my half.'
'Certainly not. There is only enough sugar to sweeten half a
glass of milk.'
Nasrudin went to the owner of the cafe, and came back with a
large packet of salt.
'Good news, friend,' he said, 'I am drinking first, as agreed,
and I want my milk with salt.'
What is real evidence?
A neighbour called on Nasrudin.
'Mulla, I want to borrow your donkey.'
'I am sorry,' said the Mulla, 'but I have already lent it out.'
As soon as he had spoken, the donkey brayed. The sound came
from Nasrudin's stable.
'But Mulla, I can hear the donkey, in there!'
As he shut the door in the man's face, Nasradin said, with
dignity: 'A rnan who believes the word of a donkey in preference
to my word does not deserve to be lent anything.'
Behind the obvious
Every Friday morning, Nasrudin arrived in a market town
with an excellent donkey, which he sold.
The price which he asked was always very small; far
below the value of the anitnal.
One day a rich donkey-merchant approached him.
'I cannot understand how you do it, Nasrudin. I sell donkeys
at the lowest possible price. My servants force farmers to give
me
fodder ftee. My slaves look after my donkeys without wages. And
yet I cannot match your prices.'
'Quite simple,' said Nasrudlia. 'You steal fodder and labour.
I merely steal donkeys.'
Nobody complains...
Hamza, the homespun philosopher who peddled
truisms in the teahouse, was droning on: 'How
strange is humanity! To think that man is never
satisfied! when it is winter, it is too cold for him. In summer,
he
complains of the heat!'
The others present nodded their heads sagely, for they believed
that by so doing they partook of the essence of this wisdom.
Nasrudin looked up from his abstraction. 'Have you not
noticed that nobody ever complains about the spring?'
Why camels have no wings
Daily', said Nasrudin to his wife, 'I become more
amazed at the manner in which nature is organized;
and the way in which everything upon this earth is in
some way planned for the benefit of mankind.'
She asked for an example.
'Well, for instance, you note that camels have no wings, by the
mercy of Providence.'
'How does that help us?'
'Don't you see? If they had wings they might roost on house-
tops, and destroy the roofs, to say nothing of the noise and the
nuisance of their chewing and spitting their cud.'
The Yogi, the Priest and the Sufi
Nasrudin put on a Sufi robe and decided to make a
pious journey. On his way he met a priest and a
yogi, and they decided to team up together. When
they got to a village the others asked him to seek donations
while
they carried out their devotions. Nasrudin collected some money
and bought halwa with it.
He suggested that they divide the food, but the others, who
were not yet hungry enough, said that it should be postponed
until night. They continued on their way; and when night fell
Nasrudin asked for the first portion 'because I was the means of
getting the food'. The others disagreed: the priest on the
grounds that he represented a properly organized hierarchical
body, and should therefore have preference; the yogi because,
he said, he ate only once in three days and should therefore have
more.
Finally they decided to sleep. In the morning, the one who
related the best dream should have first choice of the halwa.
In the morning the priest said: 'In my dreams I saw the
founder of my religion, who made a sign of benediction, singling
me out as especially blessed.'
The others were impressed, but the Yogi said: 'I dreamt that I
visited Nirvana, and was utterly absorbed into nothing.'
They turned to the Mulla. 'I dreamt that I saw the Sufi
teacher Khidr, who appears only to the most sanctified.
'He said: "Nasrudin, eat the halwa-now!" And, of
course, I
l'ad to obey.'
Refutation of the Philosophers
A number of philosophers had banded themselves to gether and were
travelling from one country to another engaging local sages in
learned disputation. When they arrived in Nasrudin's town, the
local Governor sent for the Mulla to confront them, for all the
intellectuals whom he had produced were regularly routed by these
strangets.
Mulla Nasrudin presented himself. 'You had better first
speak to those who have faced the philosophers,' the Governor
told him, 'so that you can get some idea of their methods.'
'Not at all,' said the Mulla, 'the less I know about their
methods
of thought the better, for I do not think like them, nor will I
become imprisoned by their artificialities.'
The contest was staged in a large hall, before an enormous
gathering from far and near.
The first philosopher stepped forward to start the disputation.
'What', he asked the Mulla, 'is the centre of the Earth?'
The Mulla pointed with his pen. 'The exact centre of the
Earth is the centre of the spot upon which my donkey, yonder,
has his foot.'
'How can you prove it?'
'On the contrary, you disprove it. Get a measuring tape!'
The second philosopher asked: 'How many stars are there in
the sky?'
Nasrudin immediately replied: 'Exactly the same number as
there are hairs in the coat of my donkey. Anyone who disbelleves
this is at liberty to count both.'
The third philosopher said: 'How many avenues of human
perception are there?'
'Not at all difficult,' said Nasrudin. 'There are exactly as
many as there arc hairs in your beard, and I will demonstrate
them if you like, one by one, as I pluck those hairs for you.'
'They are also', he continued, 'equal to the number of hairs
in the tail of my donkey.'
The philosophers consulted together, realized that their
theoretical speculations were incapable of logical or
quantitative
proof. With one accord, they enrolled themselyes as disciples of
Nasrudin
Ask me another
According to the general opinion of the uninitiated,'
mused Nasrudin, as he walked along the road, 'dervishes are mad.
According to the sages, however, they are the true masters of the
world. I would like to test one, and myself, to make sure.'
Then he saw a tall figure, robed like an Akldan dervishreputed to
be exceptionally enlightened men-coming towards him.
'Friend,' said the Mulla, 'I want to perform an experiment, to
test your powers of psychic penetration, and also my sanity.'
'Proceed,' said the Akldan.
Nasrudin made a sudden sweeping motion with his arm, then
clenched his fist. 'What have I in my hand?'
'A horse, chariot and driver,' said the Akldan immediately.
'That's no real test,'-Nasrudin was petulant-'because you
saw me pick them up.'
The spiritual teacher
A wizened sage, from beyond Ashsharq, a far-off Eastern land,
had arrived in the village. His philosophical expositions were so
abstruse and yet so tantalizing that the usual company in the
teahouse soon became convinced that he could perhaps unveil for
them the mysteries
of life.
Nasrudin listened to him for a while. 'You know,' he said, 'I
have had experiences something like yours on your travels. I,
too, have been a wandering teacher.'
'Tell me something about it, if you must,' said the elder,
somewhat ruffled at the interruption.
'Oh, yes, I must,' said the Mulla. He continued:
'For instance, there was the trip which I took through
Kurdistan. I was welcomed everywhere I went. I stayed at one
monastery after another, where the dervishes listened eagerly to
me. I was given free lodging at caravanserais, free food at
teahouses. Everywhere the people were impressed by me.'
The ancient monk was becoming impatient at all this personal
publicity. 'Did nobody ever oppose anything you said, at any
time?' he asked querulously.
'Oh, yes,' said Nasrudin. 'Once I was beaten up and put in the
stocks, then driven out of a town.'
'Why was that?'
'Well, you see, the people there happened to understand
Turkish, the language I was doing my teaching in.'
'What about the people who had welcomed you?'
'Oh, they were Kurds; they have a language of their own. I was
safe so long as I was with them.'
The high cost of learning
Nasrudin decided that he could benefit by learning something
new.
He went to see a master musician. 'How much do you charge to
teach lute-playing?'
'Three silver pieces for the first month; after that, one silver
piece a month.'
'Excellent!' said Nasrudin. 'I shall begin with the second month.
Hot soup, cold hands
A man who had heard that Nasrudin was very wise, decided to
make a journey to see him. 'I can learn something from such a
sage as this,' he thought. 'And there must be method in his
madness, if one can only find the constant factor which must run
through it. I have, after all,
studied long and visited many metaphysical schools. This will
enable me to judge and to learn, where others have failed.'
Accordingly, he undertook the long and tiresome journey to
Nasrudin's tiny house, perched on a mountain-ledge.
Looking in through the window, he saw Nasrudin huddled
beside a feeble fire, blowing into his cupped hands. As soon as
he
was admitted, he asked the Mulla what he had been doing.
'Warming my hands with my breath,' Nasrudin told him. After
that neither party started any conversation, and the Seeker
wondered whether Nasrudin would vouchsafe any of his wisdom
after all.
Presently Nasrudin's wife brought two bowls of broth. Nasrudin
immediately started blowing upon the surface of the broth. I may
now learn something,' said the Seeker to himself. Aloud he said,
'What are you doing, Teacher?'
'Blowing on my broth to cool it with my breath,' said the Mulla.
'The man is undoubtedly a fraud, and probably a liar,' said the
visitor, inwardly. 'First he blows for hot, then he blows for
cold.
How can I believe anything he may say to me?'
And he went away.
'The time has not been wasted,' he told himself, as he made his
way back along the mountain road, 'for I have at least
established
that Nasrudin is no teacher.'
A word for it
Hearing that a man wanted to learn the Kurdish language,
Nasrudin offered to teach him. Nasrudin's own knowledge of
Kurdish was limlted to a few words.
'We shall start with the word for "Hot Soup",' said the
Mulla.
'In Kurdish, this is Aash.'
'I don't quite understand, Mulla. How would you say "Cold
Soup"?'
'You never say "Cold Soup". The Kurds like their soup
hot.'