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A Mullah Nasruddin / Nasreddin Hoca story

 

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Mullah Nasruddin
Mullah Nasruddin

One swelteringly hot day at the chai shop, Mullah and the wags were discussing distant lands. Faik declared, “There are some places where it so hot that the most people go around completely naked.”

Nasruddin asked, “Without clothes, how in the world do they tell the women from the men?”

 

 

Excerpted from

Extraordinary Adventures of Mullah Nasruddin
by Ron J. Suresha

now in print from Lethe Press

~

 

 


Guilt by Association

by rjs
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Published on: February 10, 2012

Guilt by Association

The Uncommon Sense of the Immortal Mullah NasruddinOne 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!

I Believe You Are Right

by rjs
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Published on: June 21, 2011

I Believe You Are Right

Nasruddin and Fatima happened to be in the market when they spotted their neighbor Faik, the potter, bargaining loudly with Hamza, the miller. When Faik saw Nasruddin, he called to him, “Nasruddin, you are the local magistrate. Please — you must settle our dispute.”

Mullah Nasruddin
Mullah Nasruddin

Nasruddin and Fatima tried to duck around the corner, but it was too late to refuse. Faik said, “I will tell you my side first,” and so Nasruddin listened to him give his sales spiel about the excellent quality of his wares and why the price was quite reasonable — in fact, he was offering it at a considerable discount.

Nasruddin stroked his white beard thoughtfully, raised his right finger, and replied, “I believe you are right!”

Hamza then countered the vendor’s argument, pointing out the many flaws in the merchandise and citing lower prices at another stall elsewhere in the bazaar.

Nasruddin raised his left finger and said to his neighbor, “I believe you are right!”

Fatima interjected, “Nasruddin, don’t be ridiculous. They can’t possibly both be right!”

Nasruddin looked at his wife, raised both of his fingers, and said, “I believe you are right!”

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

Your Daily Nasruddin

When there seem to be only two sides to an argument, look closely: a third position may easily take shape before your very eyes. They say that between any two Israelis you will find three opinions; perhaps that is what this story illustrates. Or perhaps it is just advising that it is may be safest to agree with everyone, someone will eventually disagree with your decision to do so.

Don’t Ask, Don’t Make Me Tell

by rjs
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Published on: June 9, 2011

Don’t Ask, Don’t Make Me Tell

Once, young Nasruddin’s neighbor, Faik, came to him and asked if he would keep a large jar for him while he went away on pilgrimage for a month. Of course, he would want to have the jar back again upon he return. Nasruddin agreed, and stored the pot in the kitchen.

Several days passed, and the boy was curious to find out what was in the jar. Finally his curiosity got the best of him and, when he opened it, he was delighted to find it full of honey. I’ll just take one little taste, Nasruddin thought. Nobody will ever notice.

He stuck his finger in, tasted the delicious honey, replaced the lid onto the jar, and went about his normal activities.

But since Nasruddin had no strong willpower, every day the same scenario repeated itself — with the boy thinking, It’s just one finger-full . . . nobody will miss it. Naturally before long, he had tasted all the honey and the pot was empty.

When Faik returned, he came to Nasruddin and asked, “Where’s my jar of honey?” Nasruddin handed him the empty jar, and Faik cried out: “It feels so light!” He opened the jar and peered inside, then demanded, “Boy, where is my honey‽”

Nasruddin replied: “Oh, how I wish you had not asked this question. And even greater than that desire, how I wish I did not have to answer.”

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

Your Daily Nasruddin

When we think our thievery or deception is acceptable because we convince (or delude) ourselves that it is unnoticeable or inconsequential — the little “white lie” — our self-deception is bound to accumulate to the point where we cannot help but trip ourselves up and betray ourselves.

In this way, Nasruddin drains his neighbor’s pot of honey, one delicious fingerful at a time.

When confronted at the end of a long series of very small thefts of honey with the obvious absence of the entire contents of the pot, Nasruddin cannot bear to speak the truth: he is too invested in the little falsehoods that have snowballed into one big fat lie.

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