A pious holy man once said to Nasrudin, “I am so selfless that I only think of others, never about myself.” Nasrudin countered, “I am so entirely objective that I am able to regard myself as if I were someone else, so I can care about me.”
Monthly Archives: January 2009
An old friend stopped by to visit Nasrudin. “Ahmad, I haven’t seen you in ages, my friend!” exclaimed the delighted Nasrudin. “But I am just about to go out on my rounds. Come with me so we can talk.” “But I am hardly dressed for the occasion and it is cold outside,” replied Ahmad. “Lend me one of your fine coats and I will walk with you.” So Nasrudin lent his friend his most exquisite coat.
At the first house they called upon, Nasrudin introduced his companion. “This is my old friend, Ahmad! And the beautiful coat he is wearing, that is mine!”
En route to the next village Ahmad said, “That wasn’t a very smart thing to say – “the beautiful coat he is wearing, that is mine. ” Please don’t say it again!”
At the next house the Mullah explained, “This is my old friend, Ahmad, who has come to visit me, and the beautiful coat – the coat is his!”
When they left, Ahmad, said, “Why on earth did you say that? Are you nuts?”
“I only wanted to even the score,” replied the Mullah.
“If it is all the same with you,” said Ahmad, “Let’s not mention the coat again, OK?” And Nasrudin promised he wouldn’t.
At the third and last house, Nasrudin said, “May I introduce Ahmad, my old friend. And the coat, the coat he is wearing… but we mustn’t mention the coat, must we?
As Nasrudin was travelling into town, leading his donkey on which his son was mounted, a young man jeered them both. “See the old man, letting the boy ride as he hobbles along beside.” Nasrudin stopped, and exchanged places with the boy. A little further along, an old women shouted at Nasrudin, shaking her fist, “You should be ashamed, making the little boy walk while you ride!” Nasrudin stopped again and they both got on. “That poor animal with two on his back is collapsing from the weight,” exclaimed another passerby a short distance later. This time they both got off. After a short while, someone else mocked, “Nasrudin, are you taking your pet for a walk?”
Nasrudin had had enough. He dropped his rains and slapped the donkey on the rear. “Go and find someone who knows what can be done with you!” he cried, whereupon he hoisted the boy onto his shoulders and walked.
Nasrudin’s neighbour stole several sacks of wheat belonging to the city, but was nabbed by the police. Before the court date, the neighbour asked Nasrudin to lie for him. When the judge questioned Nasrudin about exactly what happened, Nasrudin spoke in great detail about what happened to the sacks of barley. “I asked you to tell me about the sacks of wheat , not sacks of barley,” interrupted the judge. “Sacks of wheat, sacks of barley,” replied Nasrudin, “What does it matter when one is lying?”
With the downturn in the economy, there was a great deal of disquiet throughout the country. To reassure his people, the King sent a delegation of learned men into the villages who mollified many of the citizens with their pedigreed expertise and sage advice. In each village, people assembled and asked this Royal committee questions. When they arrived at Nasrudin’s village, they did the same. Arriving late, Nasrudin, being a key local dignitary, was pushed by his fellow citizens to the front. “What are you men doing here?” demanded the Mullah. “We are the Royal committee. We provide the answers to the questions that people cannot answer for themselves. And who are you?” responded one of the visitors. “You will need me up there with you,” replied Nasrudin as he joined the wise gaggle. “My job is to answer the questions you cannot and I propose we start with those questions you gentlemen don’t know the answer to.”
Nasrudin, now old and destitute, lay on his bed in a poorhouse, contemplating his past. To the chap in the next bed he remarked, “When I was seventeen, I was determined that nothing was going to stop me from becoming wealthy and powerful.” “Why are you neither, my friend?” asked the companion. Nasrudin replied, “ By the time I was nineteen years of age, I had realised it was far easier to change my mind.”