Why Nasruddin Rode His Donkey Backward

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Published on: January 23, 2013

Why Nasruddin Rode His Donkey Backward

NSR donkey closeOne morning, Nasruddin was leading his donkey out from the stable, on his way to teach at the school, for that is another one of the things that Nasruddin did for work in those days. Seeing Nasruddin appear on the street, some young students approached him to ask whether they might instruct them and hear their lessons. Nasruddin readily agreed, and invited them to the schoolhouse.

Nasruddin mounted his donkey from the left, put his right foot in the stirrup, and heaved himself up. Naturally this put him facing backward toward the ass’s rear. As they set off, Nasruddin commented, “Remember, kids: a donkey of your own is better than a shared thoroughbred mare.”

As they walked on, Nuri asked why the Mullah mounted his donkey that way.

Nasruddin said, “Because, my child, the donkey is left-handed.”

Ismail objected, “But Mullah, donkeys don’t have hands.”

Nasruddin replied, “Well, left-footed, then,” then nudged Karakacan with a shout — “Ugh-r-r-r,” which, as you might happen to know, is Turkish for “Giddyap!” — and a shove.

“In any case,” Nasruddin continued speaking to the students, “what usually happens is that I want to go in one direction, and this stubborn beast wants to go in the exact opposite way. So this is our compromise.”

. . . to be continued . . .

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Excerpted from The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah Nasruddin: Stories, Jests, and Donkey Tales of the Beloved Persian Folk Hero

 

 

 

Your Daily Nasruddin

There are few Nasruddin stories as iconic as this one, yet there is no one standard telling for this most basic of Nasruddin jokes. Usually this is explicated before the Hoca’s students, but sometimes villagers or strangers will ask the same question of the Mullah, “Nasruddin — where are you going?”

Several reasons for Nasruddin’s unconventional way of mounting, then riding, his little grey donkey (sometimes it’s a horse) are given among story variants. The most popular reasons  are:

~ I mounted the horse this way (backward) because the horse is left-footed (or left-hooved).

~ I’m not the one facing the wrong way — it’s the donkey!

~ The animal and I want to go in opposite directions, so this is our compromise.

~ If I ride my donkey facing backward, I can face my students as they follow me and ask their endless questions.

~ Don’t ask me — ask the beast!

A donkey wholesaler, or a donkey retailer?

by rjs
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Published on: January 15, 2013

A Donkey Wholesaler, or a Donkey Retailer?

The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah NasruddinEvery Friday on market day, Nasruddin arrived at market with an excellent donkey, which he sold almost immediately, for his prices were far below the usual asking price.

One day Musa approached him, “I cannot for the life of me understand how you do it, Nasruddin. I sell my animals at the lowest possible price. My servants force farmers to give me fodder free. My slaves look after my donkeys without wages. And yet I cannot match your prices. How do you do it?”

“Simple,” replied Nasruddin. “You steal fodder and labor. I merely steal donkeys.”

Excerpted from The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah Nasruddin: Stories, Jests, and Donkey Tales of the Beloved Persian Folk Hero

 

 

 

Your Daily Nasruddin

This shows what profit is to be made by cutting out the middlemen. You have to hand it to Nasreddin to figure out how to accomplish what the slave-owner could not.

Peace Follows Renunciation?

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Published on: January 14, 2013

Peace Follows Renunciation?

The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah NasruddinA gnarly band of bandits came upon an abandoned monastery in the countryside and decided to inhabit the place. Hoping to cash in on the Sufi reputation as respected teachers of immense insight, they put on stolen white tablecloths, intending to pose as dervishes in order to catch, confuse, and rob hapless travelers. The group began to beat a rhythmic dirge that was sure to catch the attention of some hapless sucker.

As it so happened, the Mullah and his son were traveling in the countryside at that time and came across the converted dervish retreat center. Nasruddin told his son, “Look, night will be falling soon, and this appears to be a highly advanced sect. Let us ask for their hospitality and stay the night.” The pseudo-monks in their white outfits welcomed them in and immediately began the evening service, which seemed to entail mostly of jumping and spinning around in a circle while chanting these words. The fake dervishes encouraged him to participate, so Mullah handed over the rein of his little grey donkey to his son and began to jump and spin about and sing along with their peculiar chant.

The dervish impersonators intoned, “I surrender all attachment to everything!”

The Mullah obediently repeated the words as he gyrated, “I surrender all attachment to everything!”

Next they chanted, “I forsake all desire for physical possession of anything!”

The Mullah repeated as he spun around, “I forsake all desire for physical possession of anything!”

The fake monks then shouted, “I renounce my addiction to the illusion of ownership!”

The Mullah breathlessly and obediently repeated the words, “I renounce my addiction to the illusion of ownership!” louder and louder, as he whirled round and around.

The false dervishes then began chanting faster, “I give away my saddlebag and little grey donkey!”

The Mullah obediently repeated the words, “I give away my saddlebag and little grey donkey!” as he turned, faster and faster as the tempo increased, until finally he was spinning and shrieking at such a hysterical frenzy that he fainted and passed out on the floor.

When Nasruddin finally came to in the morning, his saddlebag and little grey donkey — and the dervishes — were nowhere in sight. The Mullah awoke his son and started to cuff him, saying, “What did you do, you little fool? You were left in charge of the animal!”

“But Father,” said Ahmet, “when one of the dervishes came and led away the donkey, I ran to you, and you kept saying, “I give away my donkey and saddlebag,” so often and with such fervor and in front of so many witnesses that I understood that you meant to give them away.”

Excerpted from The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah Nasruddin: Stories, Jests, and Donkey Tales of the Beloved Persian Folk Hero

 

Your Daily Nasruddin

Like Nasreddin in this story, so often we fervently spin our hopes for a better tomorrow into a fantasy of unrealistic expectations, which just confuses us all the more, until finally we collapse in a heap on the floor, helpless to defend ourselves against those who would take our livelihood away from us (the donkey and saddle), while our children watch on in silence.

 

There’s No Pleasing Anybody

by rjs
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Published on: January 12, 2013

There’s No Pleasing Anybody

The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah NasruddinNasruddin and his son, Ahmet, were taking a trip with Karakacan, their faithful little grey donkey, the son riding while the Mullah walked alongside. As some strangers encountered them on the road, one man admonished Nasruddin’s son, “Look at you, a healthy young man, letting your aging father walk. Why, the old man looks like he’s about to have heatstroke. That’s today’s youth for you — indolent and disrespectful.”

After they passed out of sight and earshot of the men, the boy felt very ashamed and got off the donkey. He insisted that his father ride while he walked, and so they went and everything was fine for a while.

Farther along they met a group of women sitting by the road. They clucked their tongues and complained loudly, “Look at that — the lazy father rides the donkey and makes the little boy walk, on a hot day like this. How cruel and unfair is that‽”

Embarrassed by the women’s comments, Nasruddin pulled his boy up to ride on the donkey with him, and they traveled like that for a while in silent dread of the next encounter.

Before long they approached some villagers, and one piped up, “What a shame! I feel sorry for that abused little donkey — carrying both of those grown men in this blazing heat. They are surely going to break its back. The poor beast looks almost ready to collapse.”

After this group passed, Nasruddin stopped the donkey, dismounted, and helped Ahmet get off. He grasped both his son’s hand and the donkey’s rein and declared, exasperated, “Now nobody can complain,” and they resumed their journey.

At the next village, they walked by a shop where several men were standing. When the men saw the trio trudging along on eight legs, they laughed and pointed, taunting them, “Look at those stupid fools — walking in this heat with a perfectly good donkey they could ride! Don’t they have any brains at all‽”

Nasruddin turned to Ahmet and said, “This just goes to show you, my boy, about the wicked criticism of people whom you don’t know. Everyone has an opinion and is quick to share it with you — but there is no pleasing anyone in this world. Therefore, you may as well just do as you wish.”

Excerpted from The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah Nasruddin: Stories, Jests, and Donkey Tales of the Beloved Persian Folk Hero

 

 

 

Your Daily Nasruddin

In one version of this story, the Mullah and his son carry the donkey – until someone comes along and criticizes them. I would have included this variant in the published story, but I’m certain that someone would disapprove.

Eat Your Fill of This Soup

by rjs
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Published on: January 10, 2013

Eat Your Fill of This Soup

The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah NasruddinOnce Nasruddin ran into his friends, Abdul, Süleyman, and Jafar, and got to talking about many things. Not wanting to end the flow of such good conversation, Nasruddin graciously invited the men over for dinner.
However, he invited them to eat with him without first checking with Fatima. When he arrived back home, Fatima cuffed his ear and said, “Nasruddin, you fool! We don’t have the least bit of food in the house — we don’t even have wood to cook anything!”
Nasruddin recoiled and, thinking quickly, grabbed a ladle and a large bowl, then calmly walked into the dining room where his friends were waiting for dinner.
Nasruddin went around the table, and mimed as if he was actually ladling out hot delicious soup in the bowls of each of his guests. After he pretended to ladle some hot soup into his own bowl, Nasruddin set down the imaginary pot and ladle, and sat down to eat it exuberantly, making much slurping and ahhhing and blowing on the spoon.
The men just stared at him in disbelief at first, then Süleyman finally asked, “Nasruddin, what are you doing? Where is our dinner?”
He set down his spoon and got up from his seat, then picked up the large soup bowl. He said, “With this huge bowl, I had intended to serve you both the most delicious and hearty soup and invite you to eat your fill. However, seeing as that we have no rice, meat, vegetables, or butter, nor even fire to cook it with, I had to serve you all imaginary soup from this large bowl. I trust you will all enjoy yours as much as I enjoyed mine.”

Excerpted from The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah Nasruddin: Stories, Jests, and Donkey Tales of the Beloved Persian Folk Hero

I Was Right All Along

by rjs
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Published on: January 6, 2013

I Was Right All Along

The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah NasruddinOne afternoon the Mullah, fiercely brandishing a large metal spoon, chased Fatima out of their house and down the street, screaming at the top of his lungs, “Don’t try to stop me! This is the last straw! Just let me get my hands on you! I’ll show you what’s what —!”

Since nosey neighbors are never far away, some folks heard the screams and rushed out to intercept Nasruddin, trying to stop the fight. The men took Nasruddin into Hamza’s house to calm Nasruddin down, and the women took Fatima to her friend Turan’s to comfort and protect her.

As it so happened, Hamza was hosting a wedding party for his cousin. Nasruddin was seated at the dining table, where many trays of delicious baklava, a sweet pastry with pistachios and honey, were to be served the wedding guests. Naturally since the Mullah was so distraught, they encouraged him to help himself to the baklava on the tray in front of him. Nasruddin ate the baklava, one consoling piece after another, as he complained at length about his wife, saying, “If I had caught that woman — I would’ve turned her around — this indeed was the last straw — how she abuses my tolerance —” He finished one tray and moved on to the next, continuing his rant. “She should be punished like a child — I cannot live like this any longer,” and so on and on he went, gobbling down chunks of baklava.

Hamza said, “We’ve never seen you so upset. What happened?”

“We were discussing something and had different opinions. The disagreement turned into an argument which turned into a row, and we ended up exchanging punches.”

Just then the women brought Fatima and the hosts did everything to calm and reconcile her and Nasruddin. Soon the Mullah and his wife were sitting together, laughing and gorging themselves on the heavenly sweet baklava and enjoying themselves.

Nasruddin said, “My dear Fatima, please remind me to lose my temper more often — then life really would be worth living!”

Hamza brought the newlyweds to introduce them to the Nasruddins and said, “This serves as a fine example of how married couples can learn to get along, no matter what. Now tell us, Nasruddin, what were you and Fatima fighting about that made you so angry?”

“We were arguing about —,” Nasruddin explained between big bites of baklava, “the reason that we had not been invited — to this wedding! She maintained that it was because your servants forgot to write out our names on the invitation list, and I felt certain that you were trying to avoid us because of the last nasty fight we had at one of your relatives’ weddings. Obviously, I was right all along.”

Excerpted from The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah Nasruddin: Stories, Jests, and Donkey Tales of the Beloved Persian Folk Hero

 

 

 

Your Daily Nasruddin

This is a favorite among Fatima stories. This retelling includes elements from several versions of a domestic dispute that ends well. In some cases Fatima is abused quite openly, in others the action is limited to threats of violence only. Domestic aggression is a recurring theme in Nasruddin tales, which originate from a time when there was far less regard for women in Persian/Turkish culture than there is now.

My side from yours

by rjs
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Published on: December 6, 2012

My Side from Yours

The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah NasruddinOne inclement evening, just as Nasruddin and Fatima were settling into bed, Fatima suddenly sat bolt upright, clutching the covers, and gasped in fear, “Mullah, I heard something outside! Light the candle on your side of the bed and go investigate.”

Nasruddin, who was none too anxious to leave the comfort of his bed to confront whatever or whomever was outside there in the cold darkness, replied wearily, “I can’t even find the candle, Fatima. How do you expect me to tell my side from your side in the dark?”

Excerpted from The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah Nasruddin: Stories, Jests, and Donkey Tales of the Beloved Persian Folk Hero

 

 

Your Daily Nasruddin

“‘Tis better to light a candle than curse the darkness” – except when you are certain that lighting a candle will show you exactly what you don’t want to see.

More durable than cloth

by rjs
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Published on: December 5, 2012

More durable than cloth

The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah NasruddinWhenever young Nasreddin sat down in class, he used to pull down his pants and expose his buttocks before taking his seat.

When someone asked him why, he replied: “The skin of the buttocks is more durable than the fabric of my britches!”

Excerpted from The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah Nasruddin: Stories, Jests, and Donkey Tales of the Beloved Persian Folk Hero

 

 

 

Your Daily Nasruddin

Sometimes Nasruddin’s practicality is astonishing. “Why didn’t I think of that?” you wonder, thinking of how many pants you could have saved if you’d done as Nasruddin did in class.

Beyond the obvious

by rjs
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Published on: December 3, 2012

Beyond the obvious

The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah NasruddinOnce young Nasruddin was sitting by the side of the lake when he saw a flock of ducks swimming in the water. He was quite hungry so he thought he’d try to catch one of the birds. As he tiptoed to the edge of the water, though, the ducks honked and flew away.

For a moment Nasruddin stood in frustration, then, thinking quickly, took a loaf of bread out of his pocket, broke it up into small pieces, then dipped the pieces of bread into the lake, and ate them.

Hussein was passing by and saw Nasruddin squatting at the water’s edge. “Say, Nasruddin,” he called out, “what are you doing?”

“What I am doing . . . should be . . . perfectly obvious,” Nasruddin replied, between bites. “I am eating . . . duck soup.”

Excerpted from The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah Nasruddin: Stories, Jests, and Donkey Tales of the Beloved Persian Folk Hero

 

 

Your Daily Nasruddin

What is plainly apparent to one person may not be so obvious to another. It’s a matter of perception and perspective.

 

Donkey for a Dinar, part 1

Donkey for a Dinar

part 1

The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah NasruddinOne time, when Nasruddin lost his little grey donkey, Karakacan, he was complaining to his friends at the teahouse.

“That no-good donkey has run away for the last time. I promise you, if I could get my hands on that beast, I would sell that crappy piece of donkey meat to the first buyer for one lousy dinar.” Nasruddin thus named a price that would insult even the lamest common donkey.

Abdul the baker grinned.

“That would be a good bargain, wouldn’t you say?” said Mali the carepenter. He laughed at the thought of getting Nasruddin’s burro for a measly dinar.

Just then they could hear the familiar clip-clop of small hooves coming toward them and a few moments later, they saw Shoja, Abdul’s son, smiling and riding Nasruddin’s donkey.

When donkey and rider reached Nasruddin, Shoja jumped off and handed the tether to its owner. “Where did you find her?” asked Abdul.

Shoja said, “I knew where I’d go if I were a donkey. I found her grazing in the tall grasses just outside of town.”

Nasruddin was now just as overjoyed as he was discouraged the minute before. He hugged Karakacan, he hugged Shoja for finding her, he hugged Abdul and praised him for having such a clever child. He was about to raise a new wave of praise for Shoja, when he felt a poke at his right arm and a tug at his right sleeve. He turned to his right to see Mali holding up a dinar, then he turned to his right to see Abdul wiggling a dinar at him.

“I will buy your donkey for one dinar,” said both of Nasruddin’s friends.

“Not at all,” replied Nasruddin, tightening his grip on the donkey’s tether. “My donkey is not for sale!”

“But you said you would sell it for one dinar if you found it,” Mali reminded him, and all the men agreed that Nasruddin had indeed vowed to sell his donkey.

Mullah giggled nervously, “I was joking!”

“It didn’t sound like a joke when you said it,” said Abdul, who would do anything to get a bargain, “you weren’t laughing then.”

Nasruddin stroked his beard as he did whenever he had some hard and fast thinking to do.

* * *

Story concluded next time!

Excerpted from The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah Nasruddin: Stories, Jests, and Donkey Tales of the Beloved Persian Folk Hero

 

 

 

Your Daily Nasruddin

First part of a long piece set in the village.

Turkey’s national currency is currently not the dinar. Nor is it the Euro: it is now the New Turkish Lira. The dinar is still used by many countries including Iraq, Tunis, Azerbaijan, Yugoslavia, and Sudan.

Although some stories portray cruelty to animals, this one demonstrates Nasruddin’s love of his critters.

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