commentary | Mullah Nasruddin Books by Ron J. Suresha

Never Miss a Bargain

Categories: Announcements

Tags: commentary, donkey tales, excerpts, fatima, karakacan, Nasruddin stories

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Published on: August 15, 2012

Never Miss a Bargain

Nasruddin was fed up with Karakacan, his ill-tempered donkey, and decided to sell the beast at the market. So the next Wednesday, he took her to the donkey bazaar.

Nasruddin found Musa, the livestock auctioneer, and handed over the donkey, then stood around and looked at some other donkeys. Then he spoke with some of the donkey traders about their animals. When Nasruddin’s donkey was led up to the stand, Nasruddin was left standing in the back and couldn’t see over the heads of the men in front.

The auctioneer shouted grandly, “And here’s a magnificent beast of burden! It’s a superb, unequalled, fabulous donkey. Who will start the bidding at five gold pieces?”

“Just five, huh,” thought Nasruddin, and as the auctioneer sang the praises of the donkey, he was impressed and raised his hand to start the bidding. Immediately a shill of the auctioneer pretending to be a farmer bid eight gold pieces, and as the auctioneer exaggerated at great length the donkey’s many fine qualities, a short bidding tussle began, finally going to Nasruddin.

Nasruddin’s new donkey would cost him twenty gold pieces, far more than the worth of his old one.

So Nasruddin as the buyer paid the auctioneer twenty, and the auctioneer handed over the tether to the donkey, took his one-third commission, counted out thirteen gold pieces back to Nasruddin as the seller, thanked him for his business, praised him as a upright businessman, and left.

Nasruddin beamed with pride as he returned from the bazaar with his new prize, a donkey of the highest quality. He had to keep tugging the donkey, who, as stubborn as ever, resisted being led back. Nasruddin didn’t mind at all. He could think only of all the fine words the auctioneer used to describe the animal.

All the way home, proudly dragging his donkey behind him, Nasruddin thought, I never miss a bargain.

[conclusion with Fatima tomorrow]

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

Your Daily Nasruddin

It’s not advantageous to be short, unless you’re in front.

Perceiving your own shortness is completely relative to your perception of others’ height.

Don’t buy anything you can’t see.

Donkey for a Dinar, part 2

by rjs

Categories: Announcements, The Daily Nasruddin

Tags: abdul, commentary, donkey tales, excerpts, mali, nasruddin, Nasruddin stories

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Published on: February 14, 2012

Donkey for a Dinar

part 2

Nasruddin stroked his beard, as he did whenever he had some hard and fast thinking to do. Then he spoke, “Oh sure — but it’s too bad that the donkey bazaar is not held today. We will have to wait until Wednesday. At that time I will sell for a single dinar my donkey to the one of you that I think will make the best master.”
So for the next week Abdul and Mali went to great pains to demonstrate to Nasruddin how kind and generous they were to all the town’s animals. Abdul made a point of throwing handfuls of feed to birds while Nasruddin was looking, and Mali made a great show of brushing his many fine dogs and parading them about, and both men groomed and festooned and treated their own donkeys like royalty.
Come the day of the donkey bazaar, Mali and Abdul were anxious as to whether they each had impressed Nasruddin enough to make him sell his beloved donkey at such a bargain. The two men waited outside with everyone who also came to see the outcome.
Soon enough, a faint sound of donkey hooves could be heard approaching. After some time, the buyers realized they heard another noise, not so familiar, the sound of a somewhat displeased cat. They waited as the sound grew louder, until around the corner came the Mullah leading Karakacan by a tether, just as he had promised. Nobody expected to see, however, that tied to the tail of the donkey — was Nasruddin’s tawny cat.
Once everyone had gathered around this spectacle, Nasruddin announced, “I indeed am willing to sell my beloved donkey for one dinar. But my donkey and my cat — I mean, the donkey’s cat — are such good friends, it would be cruel to separate them. Whoever buys my donkey must also purchase her dearest feline companion.”
It only took two seconds for the would-be buyers to say, “How much for the cat?” in unison, reaching into their moneybags to grab another dinar or two.
“Oh, this is a very distinguished cat,” Nasruddin replied, gesturing to the distressed feline, which tried batting at the red ribbon tethering it securely to a big knot in the donkey’s tail. “Its past is exotic and fascinating. I know for a certain fact that her great-grandfather lived in the King’s palace. And that was from just this precious cat’s third life — still six more lives left.
“So,” Nasruddin continued, “as much as I hate to part with my dear kit— I mean, the donkey’s dear feline friend, the price of the cat is quite reasonable, considering her regal pedigree: one thousand dinars.”
Mali and Abdul looked at each other, and broke into wide grins, and everyone laughed. They hugged Nasruddin and slapped each other on the back and all were glad, because everyone knows that a man and his ass should never be parted.

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

Your Daily Nasruddin

Second, concluding part of a long Nasruddin story.

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 Nasruddin stories portray cruelty to animals, this one demonstrates the Mullah’s uncommon love of his critters.

Donkey for a Dinar, part 1

by rjs

Categories: From the book Uncommon Sense, The Daily Nasruddin

Tags: abdul, cats and dogs, commentary, donkey tales, excerpts, karakacan, mali, nasruddin, Nasruddin jokes, Nasruddin stories, shoja

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Published on: February 13, 2012

Donkey for a Dinar

part 1

One 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.

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

Prepare for the Unexpected

by rjs

Categories: From the book Uncommon Sense, The Daily Nasruddin

Tags: commentary, faruk, hussein, nasruddin, Nasruddin jokes, Nasruddin stories

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Published on: February 12, 2012

Prepare for the Unexpected

One day, young Nasruddin’s buddies decided they would try to nab his pointy slippers. They waited around a tall cypress tree until Nasruddin walked along, then two of the boys, Hussein and Faruk, started to pretend they were having a loud argument.

“Nobody could climb that tree. It’s way too tall. No way!” yelled Hussein.

“Of course somebody could climb it,” argued Faruk. “Nasruddin, please tell this dunce that this tree is not too tall for someone to climb.”

“I doubt that anyone could climb this tree,” said Hussein, “certainly not even Nasruddin.”

“Of course he can climb it!” retorted Faruk. “He can do nearly anything! Couldn’t you climb it, Nasruddin? I bet if anyone could get up to the top of the tree, it is you.”

Nasruddin bowed slightly and replied modestly, “I can climb it, no doubt.”

“Let’s see you do it, then,” said Faruk.

“I’ll hold your slippers for you while you go up,” said Hussein, perhaps a little too eagerly.

“Well, all right then.” Nasruddin stood back and assessed the tree, and the group of boys, and then the tree again. He rolled up his sleeves, took off his slippers and tucked them into his belt, then spit into his palms as he prepared to scale the tree.

“Wait, wait, Nasruddin!” said Faruk. “You won’t need your shoes in a tree.”

“Yes, leave them here on the ground with us for safekeeping,” chimed in Hussein.

With a gasp and a grunt, Nasruddin heaved himself upward. “You never know — there might be a road at the top of this tree.” he called out as he climbed, “Be prepared, I always say.”

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

Your Daily Nasruddin

Another example of how Nasruddin outwits the local boys.

Who knows what might possibly exist at the top of the tree? You certainly won’t know unless you start climbing and keep going until you get there.

There are several other Nasruddin stories in which the Mullah finds himself in a tree, the most popular tale sometimes referred to as Cutting the branch he was sitting on, which ends up after a funeral procession at the graveyard.

Another Nasruddin story that involves climbing a tree was omitted from TUSOTIMN because it portrayed cruelty to a bear. I’ll include it in “Naughty Nasruddin.”

Guilt by Association

by rjs

Categories: From the book Uncommon Sense, The Daily Nasruddin

Tags: ali, commentary, donkey tales, excerpts, faik, hamza, hussein, karakacan, mesut, Nasruddin jokes, Nasruddin stories, teashop

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Published on: February 10, 2012

Guilt by Association

One night, Nasruddin’s beloved little grey donkey was stolen. Instead of consoling Nasruddin, the wags in the teahouse the next morning offered only words of remonstration.

“As they say, ‘Take care of your donkey, it will carry you from Morocco to Mecca.’ So Mullah, why didn’t you take care to tie up the donkey securely?” asked Ali, the teahouse keeper.

“How could you have slept through the theft of your beloved ass, Nasruddin?” said Faik.

“You should have replaced the rotting door on your shed, Nasruddin,” commented Hamza.

“I bet you didn’t even close the bolt on the shed door,” accused Hussein. “That’ll teach you.”

“You were just asking for someone to break in, the way you neglect to secure your stable,” added Nasruddin’s uncle, Mesut.

Nasruddin listened to the wags’ criticism for a while, and then stood up and said, “Enough! Obviously, it’s completely unfair to blame me alone, or even primarily, for the theft of my donkey.”

“Tell us, Nasruddin,” said Ali, “who else was responsible?”

“Don’t you think the thief was at least a tiny bit guilty in all this,” the Mullah replied, “or was he entirely innocent in your view‽”

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 a handful of stories about the loss of Karakacan, Nasruddin’s beloved little grey donkey. She’s often described as old, feeble, and resistant, and seems to lose her way much more often than, say, my donkey, if I had one. Still the old burro has the same sort of indomitable spirit as Nasruddin, always seeming to return just in time for the next story.

Nasruddin settles the question among a number of conflicting opinions among his neighbors and fellow villagers in the community. He almost always gets the last word!

Insh’alllah (God willing)

by rjs

Categories: From the book Uncommon Sense, The Daily Nasruddin

Tags: commentary, donkey tales, excerpts, fatima, nasruddin, Nasruddin jokes, Nasruddin stories

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Published on: January 19, 2012

Insh’alllah (God willing)

One night as they retired for sleep, Nasruddin stuck his bald head out the window and looked at the stars and sky to assess the weather for the next day.

Mullah Nasruddin

“Tomorrow,” he announced to Fatima, who was getting into bed, “if it is pleasant outside, I shall plow the field.”

Fatima glared a warning at him. “God willing! Do not forget to say Insh’allah, my good husband!”

Ignoring his wife’s comment and noting some gathering storm clouds, Nasruddin continued, “If it rains tomorrow, I shall chop wood.”

“Speak carefully, Nasruddin!” rebuked Fatima. “Never, never, never say what you will do without adding Insh’allah! Like this: ‘Tomorrow I shall weave, Insh’allah.’”

Less concerned than she was about this particular religious custom, Nasruddin replied, “Either it will rain or it will shine, and I have decided what to do in either case! If it rains, I chop! If it shines, I plow!” And with that he pulled the covers over himself and was soon snoring soundly.

Fatima knew better than to argue with the sleepy Mullah, but that night her sleep was disturbed by dream after dream of the bad luck that occurs when a good Muslim forgets to say Insh’allah. Nasruddin, however, slept as soundly and loudly as his little grey donkey.

Morning brought a steady chilling rain, but stoically Nasruddin shouldered his axe and headed to the woods. He was hoping that his wife or one of his friends might say a word of discouragement, at which he would gladly have turned around to return home, but alas, Fatima was silent as Nasruddin left, and nobody was out in the awful weather.

By the time Nasruddin trudged along the rutted main road out of the village, he was soaked and cold. Ahead at the crossroads he saw a group of men, one of whom, Nasruddin thought, might be kind enough to dissuade Nasruddin from working in such harsh weather. As he approached them, however, he could see they were soldiers having some sort of argument. He wished he could avoid encountering them, but it was too late — they had noticed Nasruddin approaching.

“Hey, you!” growled the captain of the soldiers at Nasruddin. “Which is the way to Konya?”

Nasruddin tried his best to act stupid. “Don’t ask me! I don’t know,” he shrugged, feigning ignorance. “I am just going to the woods nearby to chop wood,” he said, trying to casually pass by the group of mean-looking soldiers.

This show did not impress the captain, who grabbed the Mullah by his cloak and said, “Oh no, old man, you don’t fool us so easily! We will help you remember!”

The soldiers shook Nasruddin shouted at him and slapped him, until he cried out, “Funny thing! I just remembered the way to Konya now!”

“Then lead us there,” said the captain. “March!”

Drooping his head so dejectedly that his turban seemed to rest on his shoulders, Nasruddin led the group through the rain on the long muddy road to Konya. Presently the mud sucked his shoes off, and then his feet seemed to turn into balls of mud that made it even harder to trudge forward, but any time he slowed, the soldiers brutalized him with curses and fists.

As he plodded on and on, Nasruddin could only think of Fatima, sitting snugly at home, safe and warm, working at her loom . . . wise Fatima, who had common sense and knew enough to have said the night before, “Tomorrow I shall weave, Insh’allah.”

It was nearly dusk when they arrived at Konya, and the soldiers were only too happy to be rid of their guide. Without a word of thanks, they entered an inn and slammed the door shut behind them. Knowing not a soul in the strange town, lacking even two coins to rub together, Nasruddin decided it would be best to use the remaining daylight to try to get home.

Soon enough after Nasruddin began the trek back to Akşehir on this moonless, monsoon-like night, he could see no farther ahead than his outstretched arm. He had to feel his way along the rutted road with his hands to move forward. He was so exhausted that he would have slept in the soft mud, except for his sneezing and coughing impelled him to press on toward home, where Fatima was no doubt warm and dry, having said the proper blessing, Insh’allah.

Well after midnight, Nasruddin stumbled back on the cobblestones of Akşehir. He leaned up against the gate at the entrance to his home and jangled the knocker.

Fatima opened the door to a vision of her exhausted, bedraggled husband, so covered with mud from heels to head that she could hardly recognize him. “Is that you, Nasruddin?” she exclaimed in shock.

“Yes, my wise Fatima,” Nasruddin whimpered, “it is me — Insh’allah!”

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

Your Daily Nasruddin

One of the most famous Mullah stories. Nasruddin comes to accept Fatima’s superstitious but goodhearted advice, but alas! too late.

Ox atop a Pole

by rjs

Categories: From the book Uncommon Sense, The Daily Nasruddin

Tags: commentary, excerpts, fatima, jalal, nasruddin, Nasruddin jokes, Nasruddin stories

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Published on: January 2, 2012

Ox atop a Pole

Once, Mullah Nasruddin traveled to Konya to borrow money from Jalal, his friend who lived there. Jalal, who knew that Nasruddin and his money were soon parted, put the cash into a purse for safekeeping and instructed the Mullah to be extra cautious on the trip home.

All the way back, Nasruddin felt fearful and paranoid, constantly looking over his shoulder. Like most folks, Nasruddin worried about money a lot when he had none, and he worried about it even more when he had some. “I must find a safe place to leave this money,” he resolved.

But by the time Nasruddin crossed the town square on his way home, he had not come up with a secure place to stash his cash. As he neared the far edge of the square, he noticed a flagpole and thought, “Here’s a obviously safe place — nobody would ever think to look up there for my money.” So he shimmied up the pole, left the purse dangling from the top, climbed down, and went home to recover from his journey, knowing his loan was secure.

As soon as Nasruddin left the square, some street urchins who had been watching the whole scene ran to the pole. One climbed up, replaced the cash with an ox turd, and set the purse back atop the pole exactly as Nasruddin left it there.

The next day when Nasruddin came with Fatima to get the money, he climbed up, retrieved the purse, and brought it down to the ground. When he opened the purse, the turd fell out.

Nasruddin and Fatima stood there, astounded. Finally Nasruddin exclaimed, “How in the Prophet’s name did an ox get way up to the top of that pole?”

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 this story is told with some other object left in the purse, or the purse is left upon some other obvious place where anyone could notice it. What do you call the opposite of a “master of the obvious”? That word is synonymous with Nasruddin.

Getting Used to It

by rjs

Categories: Announcements, The Daily Nasruddin

Tags: commentary, donkey tales, excerpts, fatima, karakacan, nasruddin, Nasruddin jokes, Nasruddin stories

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Published on: December 29, 2011

Getting Used to It

Because of a long drought followed by a protracted winter, Nasruddin had to ration the barley he fed his donkey.

So Nasruddin decided to teach the donkey to eat less. He put the donkey on a diet and started feeding it just a little bit less barley every day.

At first, the donkey seemed just as content with what it was offered, so Nasruddin continued gradually reducing the number and amount of the donkey’s meals. The donkey was quieter than usual and moved slower, but to Nasruddin the animal seemed fairly content.

After several months of this diet, however, one day Nasruddin walked into the stable to find that the donkey died.

Nasruddin, desperately sorry, lamented to Fatima, “Such a pity. All the donkey needed was just a little more time and the poor beast would have gotten used to hunger. Sadly, she didn’t live long enough.”

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 story is told with the Mullah expressing varying amounts of sadness and regret. Some versions portray him as sad and shocked at his little grey donkey’s demise. In others versions Nasruddin seems to act quite carefree and nonchalant about the matter.

Of course Nasruddin would have never considered the consequences if Fatima put him on a similar diet and rationed his food.

The contrary child becomes a man

by rjs

Categories: From the book Uncommon Sense, The Daily Nasruddin

Tags: commentary, donkey tales, excerpts, karakacan, nasruddin, Nasruddin jokes, Nasruddin stories, yousef

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Published on: December 6, 2011

The contrary child becomes a man

Nasruddin was contrary as a child, and his parents would always have to use reverse psychology on him to get the lad to do anything right. Meaning that if they told him to go right, he went left. If they wanted him to go forward, they would tell him to turn around and go backward. In this way, his parents managed to get Nasruddin to accomplish his chores without too much fuss.

On his fourteenth birthday, young Nasruddin was accompanying his father as they negotiated a donkey-load of flour back home across the river, when they came to a bridge too small for the donkey to cross.

“By no means lead the ass across the river,” instructed Yousef. “I’m going to walk over the footbridge.” This was a tried-and-true trick to get the boy wet while staying dry.

Sure enough, as his father hoped, Nasruddin took the donkey across the stream near the bridge. Midway across, Nasruddin’s father noticed that the sack of flour was weighted too far on the right of the donkey’s back, and would get wet unless rebalanced promptly.

Nasruddin’s father called out, “Nasruddin, heave up the load on the left.” The boy thought for a moment, then opposite to his usual reaction, he did exactly as he was told, raising the sack on the left, which caused it to slip off the ass and into the rushing water.

“You ridiculous fool, Nasruddin,” his father shouted in utter exasperation, “I have never known you to do as you’re told. Why suddenly did you comply with my directions, which was clearly the opposite of what I meant‽”

Nasruddin replied, “Father, today I turned fourteen and have now in the eyes of society become a rational adult. I just now realized while midstream that I have become a man, and instead of my constant contrariness as an immature child, I decided to obey your specific instructions, in reverse to every contrary way I have done things up to now.”

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

Your Daily Nasruddin

Nasruddin’s contrariness as a youngster is a motif behind several stories and jokes. “Contrariness” is in this case another descriptor for “foolishness.” I love the idea of using the modern concept of “reverse psychology” to portray the dynamic in this interaction between Yousef and his contrary child.

It also particularly amusing that Nasruddin got the notion to change his contrary ways abruptly, halfway across the stream and suddenly decided, since he was now an adult, that he should stop his foolish ways.

“Don’t swap horses in the middle of the stream” is a saying that, although much more recent than this Mullah story (it is often attributed to Abraham Lincoln), might just as well apply. If in the middle of your life, you want to change your ways, at least wait until you get out of the water.

Minding the door

by rjs

Categories: From the book Uncommon Sense, The Daily Nasruddin

Tags: commentary, excerpts, leyla, mesut, nasruddin, Nasruddin jokes, Nasruddin stories

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Published on: December 5, 2011

Minding the door

Once when Nasruddin was too young to attend school, but Leyla, his mother, had to go to the well, she pulled his ear and told him, “Mind you, do not leave the door for even a moment. Keep your eye on it.” Then she left, gossiping with her friends Turan and Setare, along the way to the well. Once they got going, they could keep chatting at the well with the other village women for most of a day.

Nasruddin riding his donkey

Nasruddin sat in a chair staring intently at the front entrance, for the first hour. He paced around the house keeping an anxious eye on the front door always for the second hour. Finally in the third hour, Nasruddin’s uncle, Mesut, came by and told Nasruddin to tell his mother that he and his wife and their new baby were coming that night to join them for dinner.

After Mesut left, Nasruddin found himself in a tricky situation. The boy was restless and thought he should find out what was keeping his mother so long or at least give her the message. However, he remembered his mother had admonished him to not leave the door, and he wasn’t about to suffer his mother’s wrath for disobedience. Before another minute passed, Nasruddin devised a solution.

Nasruddin’s mother was standing at the well, still gossiping with her friends, when one of the women pointed behind her and said, “Leyla — isn’t that your boy, coming down the road, there?”

Nasruddin’s mother was beside herself when she saw her son dragging something behind him, which she couldn’t make out clearly. “Nasruddin, you simpleton! I told you to attend the door while I was out!”

As Nasruddin trudged forward, they could all see that he had lashed the front door to his back. He called out, “No need to worry, Mother. I brought the door with me, so we can both keep an eye on it!”

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

Your Daily Nasruddin

One of the more famous of the young Nasruddin stories. In devising a solution to his conflict — mind the door, or go tell his mother a message — Nasruddin is clever by half.

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