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A Nasreddin Hoca story

Nasreddin Hoca ordered a new shirt from Hussein the tailor, and when it was ready, he went to the tailor’s shop to pick it up.

100+ Favourite Tales of Naseddin Hoca
100+ Favourite Tales of Naseddin Hoca

After Nasreddin paid for the shirt, he decided to shop for some new pants. He chose a nice pair of baggy pants and tried them on, and the two bargained and agreed on a price.

Not even a minute later, Nasreddin changed his mind, took off the pants, and returned them to Hussein. Then, he picked out a cloak asked how much they cost. Hussein informed him was the same price as the pants.

He picked up his shirt and the cloak, gave Hussein his warmest thanks, and began to leave. Hussein stopped him saying, “But Nasruddin! You have not paid me for that cloak.”

“Nonsense, Hussein, my friend. I paid you for the shirt, and left you the pants,” the Mullah explained patiently, “which you told me would cost exactly the same as the cloak.”

“Yes, but you didn’t buy the pants.”

“Of course I didn’t pay you for the pants,” Nasruddin rebuffed. “Why would you expect me to pay for something I didn’t buy in the first place?”

100+ Favourite Tales of Nasreddin Hoca

retold by Ron J. Suresha in

Treasured, oft-told stories of the famous funny folk hero

An endearing collection of the most beloved Nasreddin Hoca folk tales and jokes for the entire family to enjoy.

Available everywhere in a variety of print and digital formats on these platforms, from Bear Bones Books.

The pile in the vineyard

The pile in the vineyard

A Mullah Nasruddin / Nasreddin Hoca story

One day, the youngster Nasruddin was passing a vineyard and was very thirsty, so he jumped the fence and began to pull down and gobble the luscious grapes. But Bekri, the owner, spotted him and yelled, “Fool, what in Allah’s name are you doing?!”

Mullah Nasruddin
Mullah Nasruddin

“I came here to empty my bowels,” said Nasruddin innocently.

Bekri said, “And just where did you leave your little gift of manure?”

The boy looked all around, but saw nothing with which he could justify himself.

Finally, he spotted a mound of donkey manure and exclaimed, “There it is!”

“What kind of fool do you take me for? That’s a pile of donkey dung!” said Bekri.

Unruffled, Nasruddin replied, “If that heap is neither from you nor from me, then I really have no idea from whom or what it might be!”

Retold from Extraordinary Adventures of Mullah Nasruddin by Ron J. Suresha

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Middle of the mat

A Mullah Nasruddin / Nasreddin Hoca story

Middle of the mat

Mullah Nasruddin
Mullah Nasruddin

Once when Mullah Nasruddin was traveling with Faik and Hussein, the three men realized they would have to shelter overnight together in the cold. Faik suggested, “We should all buy a mat and a blanket together.” Hussein agreed.

Mullah stated firmly, “I’ll buy the mat and share it with you, but not the blanket. And you must agree that I will not sleep at either end of the mat.” And he paid the other two for just his share of the mat.

Faik and Hussein could not obtain the mat without the Mullah’s contribution but, thinking they would not share the blanket with Nasruddin, they agreed. The three men bought the mat and the other two bought the blanket. 

Nasruddin stretched out in the center of the mat and promptly fell asleep. Now, if the other two wanted to share it, they either had to sleep on either side of him, holding their end of the blanket, or tear the blanket in half so that each man could have his own.

Nasruddin enjoyed the warmth and cover of the blanket, snoring snugly between his two companions, without paying so much as a copper.

Retold from Extraordinary Adventures of Mullah Nasruddin by Ron J. Suresha

Just in time for April Fools Day, 2021: now available in hardcover!

Big fish, little fish

A Mullah Nasruddin / Nasreddin Hoca story

 

Big fish, little fish

Mullah Nasruddin
Mullah Nasruddin

One day, young Nasruddin’s mother, Leyla, was cooking and speaking to her husband, Yousef, as the child watched them unseen through a hidden crack in the door.

Leyla said, “Listen, my husband, I have prepared both a large fish and a small fish. We will hide the big fish under the wooden bench and serve the little one on the table to eat.”

Yousef understood. “So, when the boy then has eaten and gone to bed, we will take out the big fish and eat it all ourselves.”

A few minutes later, Yousef called Nasruddin in the other room, “Come on, boy, let’s eat dinner. We have nice small fish to share.”

He entered the room and sat down with his parents. When Leyla put the little fish on the table, Nasruddin grabbed it and held it to his ear.

Yousef shouted, “Hey, put that down, you little stinker! Why are you doing that?”

Nasruddin said, “Sorry father, but I have to ask the little fish for some very important information.”

“And what is this important matter about which you must ask the fish?”

“I want to ask him the name of the big fish.”

“What in the world are you talking about, boy?”

“I mean, the big fish in the Bible that swallowed Jonah,” answered the boy innocently.

Since it was a biblical question, they indulged his silliness. Yousef said, “Ask your query quickly!”

Nasruddin whispered a short question to the little fish, then held it to his ear, listening intently. After a moment, the boy replaced the little fish on the table platter and stared at it, arms crossed, with a petulant frown.

“Since you’ve already shared your question with us,” Leyla said, “why don’t you tell us the answer the fish gave you?”

The boy said, “Well, the fish replied that he himself did not know. But under the wooden bench, he informed me, there is a fish that is bigger, older, and wiser than him, and he said that I should ask his friend that question!”

 

Excerpted from

Extraordinary Adventures of Mullah Nasruddin
by Ron J. Suresha

now in print from Lethe Press

~

The power of chalk

A Mullah Nasruddin / Nasreddin Hoca story

In memory of our fallen heroes: those who threw themselves under the chalklines because someone else was making up the rules of play in the insane asylum.

The power of chalk

Mullah Nasruddin
Mullah Nasruddin

Once, Mullah Nasruddin was chalking a political slogan on the wall of a building in Konya when the corrupt local constable caught him and dragged him into jail. His queer appearance and illogical behavior led to his being certified insane, and so he was transferred to the regional mental asylum.
The asylum, of course, was filled with every sort of depraved and perverted lunatic. As soon as the Mullah entered the courtyard, the inmates crowded around him as if he were carrion and they were buzzards circling, ready to land. He could smell their soiled clothes and rancid breath as they came closer.
Finally, Nasruddin held up his hands to repel the sociopaths and shouted, “Stop, you fiends!” He pulled from his pocket his offensive piece of chalk. “Stand back, or else!” he hissed, brandishing the chalk as if it were a knife. The crazies halted in their spots.
Moving quickly, Nasruddin drew a line across the courtyard dividing the inmates evenly into two groups. Returning to the center he announced, “Pay attention, people! Here are the new rules. Now, does everyone clearly see the chalkline on the ground‽”
The men nodded and grunted their mutual assent.
“Good. So, the first and only rule of the game is this: on my call, all of you must jump under that line. The first man who makes it under, wins this chalk, and gets to make up the next game.” He walked to the periphery of the two teams, saying, “I will say when to begin. Ready, set, go.”
The casualties were severe as both teams went berserk and threw themselves repeatedly at the line and at each other.
Nasruddin was released. Nobody was quite sure whether it was because they could not allow further injuries of the inmates, or because his resourcefulness proved his sanity.

Excerpted from

XNS frcoverLamfinalsealExtraordinary Adventures of Mullah Nasruddin
by Ron J. Suresha

now in print from Lethe Press

~

Afraid to miss it

A Mullah Nasruddin / Nasreddin Hoca story

 

The Prophet’s Traditions

Mullah Nasruddin
Mullah Nasruddin

When one of young Nasruddin’s brothers died, his mother told him, “Go now and buy a shroud, and some balm!”

However, the boy replied, “I won’t go — send someone else!”

She asked him why he would not go. He said, “I’m afraid I’ll miss the funeral!”

 

Excerpted from

Extraordinary Adventures of Mullah Nasruddin
by Ron J. Suresha

forthcoming November 2014 from Lethe Press

 

 


Middle of the mat

A Mullah Nasruddin / Nasreddin Hoca story

Middle of the mat

Mullah Nasruddin
Mullah Nasruddin

One day, Mullah Nasruddin was traveling with two fellows. The two men were friends and said to the Mullah, “We want to buy a mat and a blanket.”

Mullah said to them, “I’ll buy the mat and share it with you, but you must agree that I will only sleep in the middle of the mat. Also, I will not buy the blanket with you.” And he paid the other two for his share of the mat.

They could not obtain the mat without the Mullah’s contribution, so they agreed, thinking they would not share the blanket with Nasruddin. So the three men bought the mat and the other two bought the blanket.

Nasruddin laid himself in the middle of the mat and went to sleep. Now, if the other two wanted to sleep on it, they would have to lie down on either side of him. Then they realized that they could not tear the blanket so that each man could have his own. Thus Nasruddin got to enjoy the blanket without paying for it.

 

Excerpted from the forthcoming Lethe Press book by Ron J. Suresha,

Extraordinary Adventures of Mullah Nasruddin, by Ron J. Suresha

 

Lucky Pierre, always in the middle.


No translation

A Mullah Nasruddin / Nasreddin Hoca story

No translation

Mullah Nasruddin
Mullah Nasruddin

One day, the Mullah was sent on an important and delicate diplomatic mission to Kurdistan with the ambassador and a translator. Once in Kurdistan, the Kurdish leaders were preparing a feast and, through the interpreter, invited them.

So they put on their finery and went to the dining hall and everything was going well. But in the middle at the formal banquet, just as the Kurdish leader was about to speak, Nasruddin suddenly let out a loud fart.

The head of the embassy was completely embarrassed and said, “You farted, Nasruddin, and have thus brought shame on Turkey!”

Nasruddin only smiled and replied, “But these are all Kurds here! How in the world would they understand a Turkish fart?”

 

Excerpted from the forthcoming Lethe Press book by Ron J. Suresha,

Extraordinary Adventures of Mullah Nasruddin, by Ron J. Suresha

 

Is there a universal language? The answer is blowin’ in the wind.


One house is plenty

A Mullah Nasruddin / Nasreddin Hoca story

One house is plenty

Mullah Nasruddin
Mullah Nasruddin

One day, Nasruddin’s wife Fatima went to listen to the sermon at the mosque. When she came home, Mullah said to her, “Fatima, tell me: what did the preacher say today?”

She replied, “The preacher declared that, ‘Whoever shall perform his marital duty to his wife, he manifests God, the Almighty, in His grace, and makes his home a Paradise!”

When they both went to bed, the Mullah declared, “Come! Let us build ourselves a house filled with God’s grace,” and they coupled.

Shortly afterward, Nasruddin rolled off his wife. Fatima implored him to continue, “Wait, Mullah, you’ve just built a house for you. Hurry up, build me one!”

But Nasruddin replied, “It is easy enough for me to build you a house of your own. But I fear that you will then eventually invite your father and your mother to live there, and then finally, you’ll let all of your relatives into our house, which will make the architect indignant. Please, do not grieve. One house between the two of us is plenty!”

Excerpted from the forthcoming Lethe Press book by Ron J. Suresha,

Extraordinary Adventures of Mullah Nasruddin, by Ron J. Suresha

 

 


Mouth wide shut

A Mullah Nasruddin / Nasreddin Hoca story

Mouth wide shut

Mullah Nasruddin
Mullah Nasruddin

One day, during a meeting of the village elders, one of the speakers talked uninterrupted for several hours, not letting anyone else get a word in edgewise. Nasruddin, sitting in the corner listening, was yawning continuously throughout the fellow’s pontifications.

When the fellow finally finished at the close of the meeting, one of Nasruddin’s friends turned to him and said, Well, isn’t that a shame! We did not have the pleasure of hearing our dear Mullah talk tonight. You haven’t opened your mouth once.”

“Are you kidding me?” asked the Mullah. “I was so bored that my jaw is now almost broke from yawning so much.”

 

Excerpted from the forthcoming
Extraordinary Adventures of Mullah Nasruddin, by Ron J. Suresha

 


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