Some Favorite Mullah Stories

Mullah Nasreddin Mullah Nasr-Eddin is frequently cited as a traditional source of philosophy, wisdom and wit in Gurdjieff’s writings. Not always the sage, he’s often also portrayed as a fool or the butt of a joke. Mullah stories and anecdotes come in a wide variety, and date back to 13th century Turkey. Variants of his name include: The Mulla, Mullah, Mulla, Hodja, Nasrudin, Nasreddin, Nasser-Eddin, etc.

A Whack on the Neck
Nasreddin Hodja visited a certain town on personal business. In the market a man hit him on the neck. Hodja turned around to see who hit him. “Please, forgive me,” said the man. “You appear from behind to resemble someone I hate.” “I don’t think so!” replied Hodja with an aching neck, “We must report this event to the town judge!”

The judge listened carefully to both Hodja and the man, and pronounced, “I will fine him to pay you a hundred akche (coin). Do you agree to this?” Hodja accepted. But the man had no money to pay, so the judge let him go to find it.

Hodja didn’t like letting him free. He waited a long time, and finally figured the judge helped his citizen run away. Losing patience, Hodja gave the judge a strong whack on his neck.

“Dear mister Judge,” said Hodja. “Since the price of a hit on the neck is a hundred akche, you may collect it for me, from the man who hit me. You may be familiar with this kind of compensation, but I’ve got lots of business to do before returning to my village.”
A Wise Mullah
One day the Mullah and his wife were in the village buying goods for the feast to be held that week. He saw a man he had counseled to the faith, but who had yet to renounce his infidel Christian ways. The Mullah greeted him with a holy blessing.

“I thank you” the infidel replied. “And how do you fare, good Mullah?” The Mullah answered, “I am blessed by Allah with a good wife and many fine children. You can see how Allah blesses true believers this way. You are still a bachelor, and an infidel. But I am sure if you took up the true faith Allah would grant you a wife.” The young man answered, “I am not convinced that getting a wife is enough to make me convert.”

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The Mullah knew this young man was quite taken with the fairer sex, and so he explained, “Mohammed, in his wisdom, decreed that it was Allah’s will that a man be allowed to have as many wives as he wishes. I know your infidel faith does not allow more than one wife.” This impressed the young man. “This is true. I might be persuaded by such an argument.”

Just then the Mullah’s wife rudely shouted at him to quit gossiping and carry her purchases. The infidel asked, “If you are allowed many wives, why is it that you, a Mullah, have only one wife?” “The answer is simple,” the Mullah replied. “The prophet said it was allowed, he never said it was a good idea!”
According to Need
A beggar solicited alms from Hodja. “Are you extravagant?” asked Hodja. “Yes Hodja,” replied the beggar.

“Do you like sitting around drinking coffee and smoking?” asked Hodja. “Yes,” replied the beggar.

“I suppose you like to go to the baths everyday?” asked Hodja, “…and maybe amuse yourself, even, by drinking with friends?” “Yes I like all those things,” replied the beggar.

“Tut, tut,” said Hodja, and gave him a gold piece.

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A few yards farther on another beggar, who had overheard the conversation, begged for alms also. “Are you extravagant?” asked Hodja. “No, Hodja,” replied second beggar.

“Do you like sitting around drinking coffee and smoking?” asked Hodja. “No,” replied second beggar.

“I suppose you like to go to the baths everyday?” asked Hodja, “…and maybe amuse yourself, even, by drinking with friends?” asked Hodja.
“No, I want only to live meagerly and to pray,” replied second beggar.
Whereupon the Hodja gave him a small copper coin.

“But why,” wailed second beggar, “do you give me, an economical and pious man, just a penny, when you give that extravagant fellow a sovereign?” “Ah my friend,” replied Hodja, “his needs are greater than yours.”
Across the River
Nasrudin was standing near a river. A man on the other side shouted to him, “Hey! How can I get across the river?”
“You are across the river!” Nasrudin shouted back.
Ambitious Plans
Sitting on his cot in a flophouse Mulla remarked to the fellow on the next cot, “You know, when I was seventeen years old, I made up my mind that nothing would stop me from getting rich.”

“Well, how come you never got rich?” his friend asked. “Oh,” said Nasrudin, “By the time I was nineteen, I realized it would be easier to change my mind.”
Are You Asleep?
Nasrudin was lying on his couch with his eyes closed.
His brother-in-law poked him and asked, “Are you asleep?”
“Why do you ask?” Nasrudin replied.
“I was wondering if you could loan me three hundred dollars,” said the other.
“Well,” answered Nasrudin, “let’s go back to you your first question, ‘Am I asleep.’
The answer is yes, I am, so leave me alone!”
Beggar on the Roof
One day repairing tiles on his roof Hodja faintly heard a knock on his door. “What do you want?” Hodja shouted. “Come down, so I can speak to you,” replied the stranger.

Hodja unwillingly and slowly climbed down the ladder. “Well, what’s the important matter? ”

“Could you give a little money to me, a poor, reverent old man?” begged stranger.

Hodja said to follow him up the ladder. After great effort, both Hodja and the beggar reached the roof. Hodja replied, “the answer is no.”
Big Pot Died
Hodja borrowed a big pot from his neighbor. When Hodja returned the pot, the neighbor sees a small cooking pot in the bottom. His neighbor asks, “Hodja, What is this?” Hodja replies, “Apparently the large one had been pregnant, and gave birth to this small pot.” The neighbor unquestioningly accepts both big and small pots.

Weeks later Hodja wishes to borrow the same large pot. The neighbor is only too happy to oblige. This time a month passes. The neighbor calls on Hodja to inquire about his pot. Hodja, sadly says, “I am sorry, but your big pot died.”

Puzzled, the neighbor grew angry, and demanded, “How could it die?” Hodja replied, “You believed it gave birth, why do you doubt that it died?”
Can You Swim?
To support himself Nasrudin took a job rowing a ferry across a particularly dangerous river. One day a famous grammarian came to him for help across the river. The water was higher and more dangerous than usual. “T’ain’t been this bad since before I ever was here ’bouts!” said the Mullah.

The grammarian bristled at Nasrudin’s bad speech. “My good man, have you never learned grammar? Half of your life has been wasted!”

A little later Nasrudin asked his passenger, “Can you swim?” “No. Why?” “Because all of your life has been wasted! The boat is sinking.”
Cat Tale
One day Mullah bought 9 pounds of meat, and took it home to his wife, and then returned to work. Immediately, his wife called her friends and prepared a superb dinner. In the evening, Mullah returned for supper, and his wife offered him nothing but bread and onions. He turned to her and said, “But why haven’t you prepared anything from the meat?”

“I rinsed the meat, and was about to put it on the stove, when this damn cat snuck in and stole it away,” she said. Mullah at once ran to get the scales. Then he found the cat, and weighed it. It was exactly 9 pounds! He turned to his wife and exclaimed, “Look here! If what I have just weighed is the cat, then where’s the meat? But if this is the meat, then where’s the cat?”
Dividing 17 Donkeys
One day a man in Hodja’s village died, leaving seventeen donkeys for his three sons. According to his will the oldest son would receive one-half of his donkeys, the second one-third, and the youngest one-ninth. When the sons were unable to divide the donkeys according to their father’s wishes, they came to Hodja to resolve their differences.

“You are fighting over nothing,” said Hodja. “I will lend you my donkey and everything will be in order.” Adding his donkey made the total eighteen, so that he gave one-half, or nine donkeys, to the eldest son, one-third, or six, to the second, and one-ninth, or two, to the youngest, making a total of seventeen. He bowed to the three young men, climbed onto his own donkey and headed for home.
Donkey on a Diet
Hodja decided to teach his donkey to eat less during a year of drought. Each day he reduced the amount of feed, until one morning he found the donkey dead. When Hodja started lamenting, his neighbor asked him what was the matter. “I had just taught my donkey to get along without any food,” said Hodja, “and he died.”
Etiquette
Mulla Nasrudin went to see his lawyer about a divorce. “What grounds do you think you have for a divorce?” the lawyer asked. “It’s my wife’s manners,” said the Mulla. “She has such bad table manners that she is disgracing the whole family.”

“That’s bad,” the lawyer said. “How long have you been married?” “Nine years,” said the Mulla. “If you have been able to put up with her table manners for nine years, I can’t understand why you want a divorce now,” the lawyer said.

“Well,” said Nasrudin, “I didn’t know it before. I just bought a book on etiquette this morning.”
Everyone Who Sees the Light
Hodja’s wife was pregnant. One night, her labor pains started, and Hodja called the neighbors and the midwife. Soon they called out from his wife’s room and said, “Hodja! You have a son!” He was very happy.

A few minutes later the midwife called out again, “Hodja! You also have a girl.” After a little while, she called out again, “Hodja! You have another girl!”

Hodja, who had been waiting in front of his wife’s room, rushed into the room and blew out the candle. “What are you doing?” asked the surprised women. “Well! Everyone who sees the light wants to come out. What else can I do?” he answered.
Exclusive Mosque
The Mullah, always dressed in rags, and wearing tattered sandals, applied for membership in an exclusive mosque. The imam attempted to diplomatically put him off with all sorts of evasive remarks. The Mullah, growing aware that he was not wanted, said finally, that he would pray on it to Almighty Allah, and perhaps He would tell him just what to do.

Several days later Mullah returned to the mosque. “Well,” asked the imam, “did Allah send you a message?”

“Yes sir, he did,” was Mullah’s answer. “He told me it wasn’t any use, and not to waste my time. He said, ‘I’ve been trying to get in that same mosque myself for twenty years, and they still won’t allow it.’”
Fish Tales
Mulla Nasrudin, was an avid fisherman. “I notice,” said a fellow sportsman, “that when you tell about a fish you caught you vary its size for different listeners.” “Yes,” replied Nasrudin, “I never tell a man more than I think he will believe.”
Frightening Place
One day a visitor came to Hodja with a question. “Hodja, the place we humans come from, and the place that we go to, what is it like?” “Oh, it is a very frightening place,” said Hodja. “Why do you say that?” the visitor asked. “Well, when we come from there as babies, we are crying, and when somebody has to go there, everybody cries.”
Future Worry
“You sure do look downhearted, Mulla? What’s the matter?” asked a friend. “It’s my future that worries me,” said Nasrudin. “What makes your future so black?” the friend asked. “My past,” replied Nasrudin.
God’s Way or Mortals’ Way
One day four boys approached Hodja and gave him a bagful of walnuts. “Hodja, we can’t divide these walnuts among us evenly. So would you help us, please?”

Hodja asked, “Do you want God’s way of distribution or mortal’s way?”

“God’s way” the children answered. Hodja opened the bag and gave two handfuls of walnuts to one child, one handful to the other, only two walnuts to the third child and none to the fourth.

“What kind of distribution is this?” the children asked baffled.

“Well, this is God’s way,” he answered. “He gives some people a lot, some people a little, and nothing to others. If you had asked for mortal’s way I would have given the same amount to everybody.”
Good or Bad?
One day Hodja’s apprentice said, “Hodja, everyone says you’re good. Does that mean that you really are good?” Hodja replied that this was not necessarily so. The boy then asked whether if everyone said Hodja was bad, would it mean he was bad, and again Hodja replied, “not necessarily.”

When the apprentice asked how he could tell, Hodja told him that if the good people said he was good, and the bad people that he was bad, then he was good. He paused for a moment, scratching his beard, and then continued, “but you know how hard it is to tell which are the good people and which are the bad.”
Good Swimmer?
In the old days, men were permitted to have more than one wife. Mullah himself took a second wife who was younger than the first one. One evening he came home to find them quarreling about which of them Mullah loved more.

At first, Mullah told them he loved them both, but neither of them was satisfied with his answer. Then the older one asked, “Well, just suppose the three of us were in a boat, and it started to sink. Which of us would you try to save?” Mullah thought for a moment, and then said to his older wife, “My dear, you know how to swim, don’t you?”
Hark! I Hear the Cannon Roar
The Mullah hears that a Shakespearean theater troupe needs an extra actor for its upcoming production.

He’d always wanted to be an actor! It was only a bit part, but the Mullah’s foot would be in the door to fame and fortune!

The role was that at the beginning of the third act to loudly exclaims, “Hark, I hear the cannons roar!”

So he rehearsed it over and over: “Hark! I hear the cannon roar! Hark! I hear the cannon roar! Hark! I hear the cannon roar!” in every possible variation, emphasis and intonation. He had it down! It was locked in. But even so, he continued rehearsing just to be certain.

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Opening night finally arrives. Mullah has the same jitters that even seasoned pros get. The first and second acts go well with much applause. Stage manager says, “Two minutes til you’re on,” Mullah. “Take your position.”

The curtain rises, the lights come up. He’s on his mark, all the while still quietly repeating under his breath, “Hark! I hear the cannon roar!”

Just then he hears a deafening K-A-B-O-O-O-O-M!!! He jumps out of his skin!

“Jesus! What the hell was that?”
He Who Knows
One day the village teacher told Hodja he intended to travel across the land to seek knowledge. When the man asked what kind of people he should look for, Hodja recalled some wise words he had once heard in the bazaar:
He who knows not, and knows not that he knows not, is a fool. Shun him.
He who knows not, and knows that he knows not, is a child. Teach him.
He who knows, and knows not that he knows, is asleep. Awaken him.
He who knows, and knows that he knows, is wise. Follow him.
Hodja paused for a moment and then continued, “But you know how difficult it is, my son, to be sure that the one who knows, and knows that he knows, really knows.”
His Husbandly Duty
The wise Mullah and his wife heard another mullah proclaiming wisdom. “Allah has seen the infidel, and has seen they are as many as the seeds on the wind. Therefore it is good that we all make children to strengthen the faith. In fact, it is said that Allah builds a mansion in heaven every time a man makes love to his wife, as a reward for their faithfulness.”

That evening, the Mullah’s wife waked him. “Come,” she said, “let us build a mansion in heaven.” “Very well,” he replied, and proceeded to do his duty.

An hour or so later she awakened him again. “Oh,” she cried, “we have a son in the army! We should build a mansion for him, for he may not live to build his own!” “Very well,” said the Mullah, and he proceeded again to his husbandly duty.

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Another hour went by, and she cried again, “Our other son is so young, what if he should die? We should prepare a mansion for him as well!” “Very well,” said the Mullah, and he proceeded again to his husbandly duty.

Then after another hour she cried yet again, “I have a maiden aunt who is so old she may die at any time. We should prepare a mansion for her as well!” “Wait!” cried the Mullah. “We must buy torches!”

“Why?” asked his wife. “Tomorrow Allah must make the sun rise. He will have no time for that, now if he’s building all those mansions!”
Hodja’s Fart in the Mosque
One Friday Hodja broke wind by accident in the mosque. It was a clear sound in the middle of the silence, but according to the social rules, the congregation behaved as if nothing had happened. They kept quite and continued to perform the ritual as usual. This mistake made such a painful impression on Hodja and he left the village, immediately. Hodja packed his personal things and rode his donkey away in the middle of the night, without saying goodbye to relatives or friends.

After 12 years,thinking the congregation had probably forgotten his tragic acciden, Hodja moved back to his home village. On his way home Hodja met a boy from his village, a wonderful opportunity to learn. “How old are you, my boy?” Hodja smiled.

“I don’t know exactly,” replied the boy, but I know that I was born the same year Hodja broke wind in the mosque.
Hodja’s Head and Feet
One hot day Hodja lost his donkey and went to market on foot. He was confused, and lost his way to the market, and wandered around all day. Exhausted, he finally went to an inn for a rest, and asked the innkeeper, “Please innkeeper, show me a bed!”

When he got into bed he stretched out with his feet on the pillow and his head at the foot of the bed. The innkeeper noticed and remarked, “Hodja, you laid down in the reverse direction—you should put your head on the pillow!”

“No, not at all! My feet are innocent. All my troubles I suffered at the hands of my head.”
Honored Guest
One day Mullah Nasreddin went to a banquet. As he was dressed rather shabbily, no one let him in. So he ran home, put on his best robe and returned. Immediately, the host came over, greeted him, and ushered him to the head of an elaborate banquet table. When the food was served, Nasreddin pushed his sleeves up to his plate and said, “Eat sleeves, eat! It’s obvious that you’re the real guest of honor today, not me!”
How a Donkey Reads
During a conversation with Tamerlane, Hodja started bragging about his donkey. “He is so smart that I can teach him even how to read,” he said.

“Then go ahead and teach him reading. I give you 3 months,” Tamerlane ordered. Hodja went home and began to train his donkey. He put its feed between the pages of a big book, and taught it to turn the pages by its tongue to find its feed. Three days before the three month period was over, he stopped feeding it.

When he took his donkey to Tamerlane, he asked for a big book and put it in front of the donkey. The hungry animal turned the pages of the book one by one with its tongue, and when it couldn’t find any feed between the pages it started braying. Tamerlane watched the donkey closely and then said, “This is sure a strange way of reading!”

Hodja remarked, “But this is how a donkey reads.”
How to Become Wise
Friend: “Nasrudin, how does one become wise?”
Nasrudin: “Listen attentively to wise people when they speak. And when someone is listening to you, listen attentively to what you are saying!”
Hunting Bears
Tamerlane, who enjoyed Hodja’s company, also liked to hunt, so commanded him to accompany him on a bear hunt. Hodja was terrified.

When Hodja returned to his village, someone asked him, “How did the hunt go?” “Marvelously.” “How many bears did you see?” “None.” “How could it have gone marvelously, then?”

“When you are hunting bears, and when you are me, seeing no bears at all is a marvelous experience.”
Identify Yourself
As Nasrudin entered a foreign town, a border guard stopped him and demanded, “You must identify yourself before we can let you in.”

Nasrudin took out a pocket mirror, looked into it, and remarked, “Yes, that is Nasrudin.”
Idiots
The Mulla was returning home from the bazaar, where he’d collected quite an assortment of glassware and china to surprise his wife, Fatima. While carrying quite a load, as it turned out, suddenly Mulla’s toe caught on a cobblestone. He stumbled and fell down smack in the middle of the square. Plates, glasses, vases, teacups, figurines, even a lamp, went flying. They hit the street with a resounding, explosive CRASH!

A crowd of onlookers immediately gathered round, hooting, laughing, pointing and jeering.
“What’s the matter with you idiots,” acolded Mulla. “Haven’t you ever seen a fool before?”
If Allah is Willing
Hodja was determined to be decisive and efficient. One day he told his wife he would plow his largest field on the far side of the river, and be back for a big dinner. She urged him to say, “If Allah is willing.” He told her whether Allah was willing or not, that was his plan. The frightened wife looked up to Allah, and asked forgiveness.

Hodja loaded his wooden plow, hitched up the oxen to the wagon, climbed on his donkey, and set off. But within the short span of a day the river flooded from a cloudburst, and washed his donkey downstream, and one of the oxen broke a leg in the mud, leaving Hodja to hitch himself in its place to plow the field.

Having finished only half the field, at sunset he set out for home exhausted and soaking wet. The river was still high, so he had to wait until long past dark to cross. After midnight a very wet, but much wiser Hodja knocked at his door. “Who is there?” asked his wife. “I think it is me, Hodja,” he replied, “if Allah is willing.”
Let the Thief Be
There was a time Nasreddin Hodja’s family was very poor. One day his wife woke him in the middle of the night and wispered, “Hodja, There is a thief in the kitchen!” “Shhh… woman!” replied Hodja. “Let him be. Maybe he’ll find something, then we can seize it!”
Let Those Who Know…
As part of his duties as a Mulla, Nasrudin lectured to his community. One day from the pulpit, beginning his speech, he asked his audience, “Do you know what I am about to teach you?”

“No,” they responded. “Well then, “Nasrudin said, “Since you don’t have enough background information, there’s no point in my trying to teach you.” And with that statement, Nasrudin left.

The next day, from the pulpit he asked, “Do you know what I am about to teach you” Thinking they were on to his trick, they responded, “Yes, we know.”

Nasrudin replied, “Well, then, if you already know, there is no point in my telling you anything!” And with that, Nasrudin left.

The next day, from the pulpit again he asked, “Do you know what I am about to teach you”

The people, once again thinking that they were on to his trick, replied, “Half of us do, and half of us don’t.”

“Then let those who know tell those who don’t!” replied Nasrudin. And with that, he left.
Life is a Fountain
A man sincerely searching for the meaning of life traveled the world, studying with spiritual masters of all different religions. Each had partial answers, but none completely satisfied the seeker. But the more masters he met, the more he heard mention of one holy man who could help him, in a remote cave high in the Caucasus mountains. This sage’s name was Mullah Nasrudin. But no one was sure of his exact location.

So for 12 years the seeker traveled, gathering leads, learning languages, collecting fragments of information, making maps, equipping himself for the journey. He hired a guide, who led him through deserts, over mountains, valleys and rivers, through rain, sleet and snow, eventually arriving at the foot of the ascertained mountain. The trail up was so dangerous the guide himself tragically lost his footing and fell to his death. But the seeker persisted. At last, oxygen-deprived, starving and half frozen, he located a cave, just below the summit. Inside was a holy man, sitting in front of a small fire. The seeker fell to his knees in reverence, weeping with gratitude.

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He said, “Oh master, my whole life I have sought only the truth! Your reputation for wisdom and knowledge is known to be unequaled among the wisest of the wise, with whom I have studied. Now, at last I have finally found you. Please, I beg… can you tell me, “what is the meaning of life?”

The Mullah turned inward and pondered deeply. He then gazed into the seeker’s eyes in silence for a full minute. Then he said, “Life…is a fountain.”

“You mean all this time I’ve sailed the seas, learned languages, studied scriptures, endured privations, suffered hunger and thirst, crossed mountain ranges and burning deserts… I finally find you, and you tell me, “life is a fountain?!”

The Mullah replies, “life isn’t a fountain?”
Location
A man noticed Nasrudin digging a hole, and asked him about it.
The Mullah’s reply was, “I buried something in this field last month, and I’ve been trying to find it all morning.”

“Well,” said the other, “did you have some kind of marking system for it.”

Nasrudin said, “Of course I did! When I was burying it, there was a cloud directly over it that cast a shadow—but now I can’t find that cloud, either!”
Man Searches for Joy
One day, the Mulla was talking to a man from another town. The man lamented, “I am rich, but I am also sad and miserable. I have taken my money and am traveling in search of joy. But alas, I have not found it.”

The Mulla grabbed the man’s bag and ran off with it. The man chased him, but the Mulla (we didn’t know he was once a track star!) was soon out of sight. Leaving the bag in the open road for the man to find, Mulla hid behind a tree.

When the man finally caught up, he found his bag, and laughed and jumped, and danced a little celebratory dance; his mood transformed from distress to joy.

The Mulla thought, “That’s one way to bring joy to a sad man.”
Mother-in-law
Mulla Nasrudin was milking a cow, when suddenly a bull tore across the meadow toward him. The Mulla didn’t move, but kept on milking. Several men watching from the next field were surprised when the bull stopped abruptly, just a few yards from the Mulla. He then turned around and walked away.

“Were you not afraid, Mulla?” asked the men. “Of course not,” replied Nasrudin. “This cow is the bull’s mother-in-law.”
Mullah and the Goldsmith
The wise Mullah was not a rich man, but lived next door to a wealthy goldsmith, who was a Jew. That he was a Mullah merited him his place in so wealthy a neighborhood, but it did not make him popular with his neighbors.

Every day in the street in front of his house he spread his prayer rug. In a loud voice he’d cry “Allah, I have served you many years. You are just. Would that you give me one hundred gold coins, as a reward for my work. My good neighbor is a Jew and an infidel, yet you have made him rich. If it is not against your will, let me have one hundred gold pieces.”

For an hour each day he would pray this way. One morning the goldsmith said to himself, “I will shut him up. It will be a small price to pay!” So he took up the purse at his belt, that contained eighty-seven gold pieces, and threw it into the air in such a way that it fell to the earth, as if from heaven, right in front of the Mullah!

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At first the Mullah was overjoyed, and praised Allah, but soon he counted it, and resumed his prayers. “Oh merciful and generous Allah, I did ask for one hundred pieces of gold, and here you have given me eight-seven. I know that if a faithful man prays you will give him what he asks, so I will not keep this. Instead I shall give it to my neighbor, who is a Jew and an infidel, that he may see the generosity of Allah, and change his ways.”

Then the Mullah took the purse to the goldsmith and went his way. The goldsmith was amazed, and said to himself “I must test this further.” So the next day he prepared a purse with one hundred and one pieces of gold, and waited until the Mullah went out to pray.

Once again the Mullah cried, “Allah, I have served you many years. Oh you are just. But would that you give me one hundred gold coins, as a reward for my work. My good neighbor is a Jew and an infidel, yet you have made him rich. If it is not against your will, let me have one hundred gold pieces.”

Then the goldsmith threw this purse into the air as the last one, and it landed in front of the Mullah, plop! Once again the Mullah seemed overjoyed, but when he counted the coins he said, “Oh Allah, you are indeed merciful, I asked for one hundred pieces of gold, and you have given me one hundred and one. I know that if a faithful man prays you will give him what he asks, so I will not keep the extra one coin. Instead I shall give it to my neighbor, who is a Jew and an infidel, that he may see the generosity of Allah, and change his ways.”
Mullah and the Lost Keys
Late one night,a disciple found the Mullah Nasser Edin, on his hands and knees, searching for something under a lamp post. “What are you looking for?” the disciple asked. “I lost my keys,” replied the Mullah.

The disciple joined in the search. After what seemed like hours, he finally asked, “Mullah, are you sure you dropped your keys over here?” Pointing into the darkness, the Mullah replied, “No, I dropped them over there.”

Exasperated, the disciple demanded “Then why are we searching for them over here?” “Well,” the Mullah answered, “there’s obviously more light over here!”
Mullah and the Will of God
“May the Will of Allah be done,” a pious man was saying about something or the other. “It always is, in any case,” said Mullah Nasruddin.

“How can you prove that, Mullah?” asked the man. “Quite simply. If it wasn’t always being done, then surely at some time or another my will would be done, wouldn’t it?”
Mullah’s Wife Going Deaf
“Mulla Nasreddin was at the teahouse one afternoon when the village Doctor walked in.

“How are you, Mullah?

“I’m fine, thanks, Doc, but I’m worried about my wife, who seems to have become very hard of hearing. Is there any cure for her problem?” asked Nasreddin.

“Well, some degree of age-related hearing loss is normal,” Arif said. “If you bring your wife to my dispensary, I can check her hearing and prescribe the necessary treatment.

“But before you do that, you can try this simple test. When you go home this evening, call out to your wife from the gate, and see if she hears you. If not, then try speaking to her from the front door, and keep reducing the distance until she responds. This way you will be able to gauge how serious her hearing loss is.”

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Nasreddin thanked the doctor for the free advice, and headed home. Calling out to Fatima from the gate in the front yard, Nasreddin said loudly: “I’m home, dear. What are we having for dinner?”

Getting no reply, Nasreddin opened the front door and yelled: “I’m home, dear. What are we having for dinner?”

Still getting no response, Nasreddin pushed open the kitchen door, and repeated loudly: “What’s for dinner, dear?”

Fatima, who was stirring a large pot on the stove, turned to face her husband. “Are you deaf, Nasreddin?” she said angrily, wiping her hands on her apron. “For the third and last time, I repeat: we are having fish stew and pilaf, followed by apricot halva for dessert.”
My Father Won’t Like it
The hay wagon had upset in the road and the young driver, Mulla Nasrudin, was terribly worried about it. A kindhearted farmer told the young fellow to forget his troubles and come in and have some supper with his family. “Then we will straighten up the wagon,” the farmer said.

The Mulla said he didn’t think his father would like it. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” said the farmer. “Everything will be all right.” So Nasrudin stayed for supper.

Afterwards he said he felt better and thanked the farmer. “But,” he said, “I still don’t think my father will like it.” “Forget it,” said the farmer. “By the way,” he added, “Where is your father?” “He’s under the hay!” said Nasrudin.
Nasrudin Buries His Donkey
One day, Nasrudin’s beloved donkey dropped dead. Greatly saddened, Nasrudin decided to make a grave for it and give it a formal burial and ceremony.

As he cried at the gravesite over the loss of his beloved donkey, someone noticed him and asked, “Who is buried there?”

Embarrassed to admit it was his donkey, he replied, “A great sheik. He appeared to me in a dream and told me that no one was visiting his grave—so I came here in order to honor and remember him.”

Soon, word spread of the sheik, and many people began visiting the grave. A few weeks later, Nasrudin was traveling by on his new donkey, and noticed a large gathering of people, and an altar built on the gravesite.

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“What’s going on here?” he asked someone. “A great sheik was buried here, and we are all honoring him.”

“What!” said Nasrudin.” This is my donkey’s grave. I buried him here myself!” Greatly outraged, the people took Nasrudin to the religious official.

After explaining his story to him, the religious official, very offended, ordered his assistants to give Nasrudin several lashes to the back.

As he walked home with welts on his back, Nasrudin thought to himself, “Wow, my donkey was really something. He was so great that the people made him a sheik.”
Nine Month Journey in Seven Days
The Hodja’s first wife had recently died. The state of single blessedness was not to the Hodja’s taste. So he decided to marry again. With some help from his neighbors he had no difficulty in finding a suitable widow.

Exactly seven days after the wedding the woman gave birth to a baby. The Hodja immediately ran to the market, bought some paper, pencils, books and on his return put these objects beside the newborn baby. His wife seemed surprised and asked, “but Effendi, surely the baby won’t have any use for these things for a long time yet! Why the hurry?”

“You are mistaken my dear,” replied the Hodja. “A baby that arrives in seven days instead of nine months, is sure to need these things in a couple of weeks at most.”
Payment at the Turkish Bath
One day Mullah went to a Turkish bath, but as he was dressed so poorly, the attendants didn’t pay much attention to him. They gave him only a scrap of soap, a rag for a loin cloth and an old towel. When Mullah left, he gave each of the two attendants a gold coin. As he had not complained of their poor service, they were very surprised. They wondered had they treated him better whether he would have given them even a larger tip.

The next week, Mullah came again. This time, they treated him like royalty and gave him embroidered towels and a loin cloth of silk. After being massaged and perfumed, he left the bath, handing each attendant the smallest copper coin possible. “This,” said Mullah, “is for the last visit. The gold coins are for today.”
Prayed Up In Advance
Mulla and his young son were driving in the country one winter. It was snowing. It grew late. They finally reached a farmhouse and were welcomed for the night. The house was cold, and the attic they were to sleep in was like an icebox. Stripping to his underwear, the Mulla jumped into a featherbed and pulled the blankets over his head. The young man was slightly embarrassed. “Excuse me, Dad,” he said, “don’t you think we ought to say our prayers before going to bed?” The Mulla stuck one eye out from under the covers. “Son,” he said, “I keep prayed up in advance for situations just like this one.”
Priest Who Plays Chess
In Hodja’s village there was a Greek community with a priest who enjoyed playing chess, but had no one with whom to play. So the priest decided to teach Hodja the rudiments of chess, following which they began a game. At the start he crossed himself, and then checkmated the Hodja after a few moves. The next time they played the priest again crossed himself, and again won.

After several games in which Hodja always lost, he turned to the priest and asked whether if he crossed himself before each game he too might win. “Yes,” replied the priest, “but first you have to learn to play chess.”
Real Money
Mulla Nasrudin and one of his friends were lying on the green grass beside a country road. Above them was the warm sun. Birds were singing in the trees. It was quiet, restful, and a peaceful scene. “Boy,” said the Mulla, “right now I would not change places with anybody not for a million dollars.” “How about five million, Mulla?” asked his friend. “No, not even for five million,” said the Mulla. “Well,” said the other, “how about one dollar?” Mulla Nasrudin sat up. “Well,” he said, “that’s different. Now you are talking real money.”
Sack of Vegetables
Nasrudin snuck into someone’s garden and began putting vegetables in his bag. The owner saw him and shouted, “Hey, what are you doing in my garden?”

“The wind blew me here,” Nasrudin confidently responded.

“Well then,” said the other. “Can you explain how those vegetables were pulled out from my garden?”

“Oh, that’s simple,” Nasrudin explained. “I had to grab them to stop myself from being thrown any further by the wind.”

“Well,” the man continued, “then tell me this – how did the vegetables get in your sack?”

“You know what,” Nasrudin said, “I was just wondering that same thing myself!”
Sandals
While walking in the village one day several of Nasruddin’s neighbors approached him. “Nasruddin,” they said, “you are so wise and holy! Please take us as your pupils, and teach us how we should live our lives, and what we should do!”

Nasruddin paused, then said “Alright, I will teach you the first lesson right now. The most important thing is to take very good care of your feet and sandals; you must keep them clean and neat at all times.”

They listened attentively until, glancing down, they noticed his feet were in fact very dirty, and his old sandals were falling apart. “But Nasruddin,” said one, “your feet are filthy, and your sandals are tattered! How do you expect us to follow your teachings if you don’t carry them out yourself?”

“Well,” replied Nasruddin, “I don’t go around asking people how I should live my life either, do I?”
Selling a Turban
Nasrudin went to the mayor’s palace one day wearing a fancy turban.

“Wow!” said the mayor, “What a magnificent turban! I’ve never seen anything like it. How much will you sell it for?” “A thousand dollars,” Nasrudin calmly replied.

A local merchant turned to the mayor and remarked, “That price definitely exceeds the market value of comparable items.” “Your price sounds very expensive,” the mayor remarked to Nasrudin.

“Well,” he replied, “the price is based on how much I bought it for—and I paid a lot for it because I knew that there is only one mayor in the entire universe with taste exquisite enough to buy such a turban.”

Upon hearing this compliment, the mayor immediately demanded that Nasrudin be paid full price for the turban.

Nasrudin then walked over to the merchant and said, “You might know the market values of turbans, but I know the market value of complimenting the mayor.”
Slight Correction
Mulla Nasrudin was introduced as the man who had just made $800,000 in an oil deal in Oklahoma.

In response, the Mulla said, “it was not an oil deal, it was a real estate deal. It was not Oklahoma, but Virginia. I am sorry, but the man had his figures mixed up. It was not $800,000, but $800. And besides that, it was not a profit, but a loss. And, in the end, if you don’t mind, let me tell you, that I am not the man concerned, sir.”
Smuggling
Nasreddin Hodja used to take his donkey across a frontier every day, with the panniers loaded with straw. Since he admitted to being a smuggler when he trudged home every night, the frontier guards searched him again and again. They searched his person, sifted the straw, steeped it in water, even burned it from time to time. Meanwhile he was visibly more and more prosperous.

Then he retired, and went to live in another country. Here one of the customs officers met him, years later. “You can tell me now, Hodja,” he said. “Whatever was it that you were smuggling, when we could never catch you out?”

“Donkeys,” said Hodja. “Just donkeys!”
Such a Wonderful Living
A mechanic sold a car he had fixed up and repaired to his friend, Mulla Nasrudin. The next day he was sorry he sold it, so he went to see the Mulla. “I will buy the car back from you,” he said, “and give you fifty dollars’ profit.” So Nasrudin sold him the car. The following day, he looked up the mechanic. “I am sorry I sold the car back to you,” the Mulla said. “I will give you seventy-five dollars’ profit for it.” So the Mulla bought the car back. The next day, the mechanic was sorry he sold it and bought it back again, giving Nasrudin one hundred dollars profit. The following day, the Mulla came to buy it back, but learned that the mechanic had sold it to a used-car dealer.

“You idiot! Why did you sell it to a stranger?” said Nasrudin, “Especially when we were both making such a wonderful living out of it.”
Tamerlane’s Value
One day, Tamerlane and Hodja together go to the hamam. While bathing, out of the clear blue, His Highness demands, “If I were a serf for sale, how much would you bid?”

Hodja knows neither cowardice nor shyness. First he pretends to ponder. Then with customary slyness, “If you ask me,” he says, “I would bid a hundred quid.”

Tamerlane says, “You must be insane! One towel here alone is worth at least a hundred.” Hodja bows and says to Tamerlane, “In fact, it was the towel for which I made my bid.”
Teaching a Donkey to Talk
Tamerlane was looking for someone to teach his donkey to talk. Nobody wanted the job. Finally the wise men of the dunes, Hodja Nasreddin, took the position, and promised to teach the donkey to talk in ten years’ time.

“Are you crazy?” his friends asked him.

“Not really,” Hodja answered. “The money is good, the job is not hard, and in 10 years a lot might happen—I might die, or Tamerlane might die, or surely enough this old donkey might die.”
The Bill
A visiting Emperor ate a meal of sheep meat in Nasrudin’s restaurant. When the Emperor finished his meal, he asked Nasrudin how much to pay.

“Fifty dollars,” Nasrudin confidently responded.

Surprised to hear such a high figure, the Emperor exclaimed, “Wow that is very expensive. Are sheep rare in this part of town?”

“No, not really,” Nasrudin replied. “What’s rare around here are visits from wealthy Emperors!”
The Burden of Guilt
Nasreddin Hodja and his wife returned home one day to find their house burgled. Everything had been stolen.

“It’s all your fault,” said his wife, “you should have made sure the house was locked before we left.”

“You didn’t lock the windows,” said one neighbor.

“You should have expected this, the locks were broken, and you should have replaced them,” said another. And so on…

“Just a moment,” said Hodja. “Surely I am not the only one to blame?”

“And who should we blame?” they replied.

“What about the thieves?” said Hodja. “Are they totally innocent?”
The Doctor’s Cure
One day Mullah fell seriously ill. His wife was frightened that Mullah might die, so ran for the doctor. “Oh, Doctor, my husband is gravely ill. We’re very poor and have many children. I’m afraid something might happen to him, and then who will take care of the children?”

On hearing the word “poor,” the doctor replied, “Why do you create problems for the poor man? Even if I prescribed him medicine, how would you pay for it with no money?” The wife returned home, and told Mullah.

A few days later Mullah recovered, and then visited the doctor. “I’ve come to say ‘thank you.’ I’ve recovered, thanks to you.” The doctor replied, “How’s that? I didn’t treat you.” “And that’s the very reason I recovered. Had your ugly breath touched me that day, who knows which cemetery I would be lying in today?”
The Donkey Deliverer
Nasrudin was hired to deliver seven donkeys to a neighboring town. As he went on his way, however, his mind began to wander. Minutes later, he checked to see if all the donkeys were still there.

“One, two, three, four, five, six,” he counted. Somewhat worried, he counted again. “One, two, three, four, five, six.” Now even more worried, he got off the donkey he was riding and counted once again.

“One, two three, four, five, six-seven!” Greatly confused, Nasrudin got back onto the donkey and began counting yet another time. “One, two, three, four, five, six!”

Finally, he got back off of the donkey and counted once more. “One, two three, four, five, six-seven!”
Nasrudin thought for a moment. “Ah!” he said, thinking he finally realized what was going on.

“These donkeys are playing a trick on me so I won’t ride any of them. When I sit on one of them, they create some sort of illusion, and one of them seems to be missing. But when I get off, they stop messing with me.”
The Donkey’s Word
A neighbor borrowed his donkey so often that finally, Hodja decided to put a stop to it.

After locking his donkey in the barn, Hodja sat on his front steps. At his neighbor’s approach Hodja burst into crocodile tears over the death of the beloved animal.

When the neighbor heard the tragic news he sat down next to Hodja, lamenting the loss of the donkey, and remembered how useful it had been. They were both surprised when at that moment the donkey began to bray.

Infuriated, the neighbor turned to Hodja and accused him of being a liar.
“What,” said Hodja, “you believe my donkey but you don’t believe me!”
The King Spoke to Me
Nasrudin returned to his village from the imperial capital, and the villagers gathered around to hear what had passed. “At this time,” said Nasrudin, “I only want to say that the King spoke to me.” All the villagers but the stupidest ran off to spread the wonderful news. The remaining villager asked, “What did the King say to you?” “What he said—and quite distinctly, for everyone to hear—was ‘Get out of my way!’”
The Learned Nasreddin
In olden times some learned men would travel around extensively in search of facts or ideas to support their newly-formed theories. Three such men one day arrived in Aksehir, and calling on the governor, asked him to request the most learned man of the district to be present at the market place the next day, so that they would see whether they could profit by his ideas.

As the most learned man of Aksehir, Nasreddin Hodja was duly informed, and the next day he was there and ready for, what proved to be, a battle of wits. Quite a crowd had gathered for the occasion.

One of the learned men stepped forward and put the following question to the Hodja: “Could you tell us the exact location of the centre of the world?” “Yes, I can,” replied the Hodja. “It is just under the left hind of my donkey.” “Well, maybe! But do you have any proof?” “If you doubt my word, just measure and see.” There was nothing more to be said, so the learned man withdrew.

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“Let me ask you this,” said the second learned man, stepping forward. “Can you tell us how many stars there are in the heavens?” “As many as the hairs on my donkey’s mane,” was the ready reply. “What proof have you in support of this statement?” “If you doubt my word, you can count and find out.” “Come now, Hodja Effendi!” admonished the second learned man. “How can anyone count the hairs on your donkey’s mane?” “Well, when it comes to that, how can anyone count the stars in the skies?”

This silenced the second learned man, upon whose withdrawal the third one stepped forward. “Since you seem so well acquainted with your donkey,” said he sarcastically, “can you tell us how many hairs there are on the tail of the beast?” “Certainly,” replied the Hodja, “as many as the hairs in your beard.” “And how can you prove that?” “Very easily, if you have no objection! I can pull one hair from your beard for each hair you can pull out of my donkey’s tail. If both hairs are not exhausted at the same time, then I will admit to have been mistaken.” Needless to say, the third learned man had no desire to try the experiment, and the Hodja was cheered and hailed as the champion of the day’s encounter.
The Mayor’s Gray Beard
Fayaz the barber was trimming the mayor’s hair at the mayoral residence. When he had finished, Fayaz casually remarked: “Your hair is starting to turn grey.”

Infuriated at the barber’s audacity, the mayor ordered that Fayaz be put in jail for six months.

He then turned to a court attendant and asked: “Do you see any grey in my hair?” “Not much,” the man replied.

“Not much!” the mayor exclaimed. “Guards, take this man to jail and keep him there for two months!” He then turned to another attendant, and asked the same question.

“Sir, your hair is completely black,” the man replied. “You liar!” the mayor yelled. “Guards, give this man ten lashes on the back, and put him in jail for three months.”

Finally, the mayor turned to Nasruddin and asked: “Mullah, what color is my hair?”

“Sir,” Nasruddin replied, “I am color blind, and therefore cannot answer that question with any degree of accuracy. But I cannot help thinking that to a bald man like me, hair of any color would be a blessing.”
The Moon or the Sun?
Nasrudin walked into a teahouse and claimed, “The moon is more useful than the sun.” “Why?” he was asked. “Because at night we need the light more.”
The Mullah on Old Age
1. Mulla Nasrudin, celebrating his 95th birthday was asked by a friend: “Don’t you hate growing old, Mulla?” “Heck, no,” said Nasrudin. “If I wasn’t growing old, I’d be dead.”
2. A newspaper reporter was interviewing Mulla Nasrudin on his 99th birthday. As he was shaking hands to leave, he said, “I hope I can come back next year and see you on your 100th birthday.” “I don’t see why you can’t,” said the old Mulla. “You look healthy enough.”
3. The tourist was talking to Mulla Nasrudin who had just celebrated his 100th birthday. “And to what do you owe your great age?” he asked. “Well, I am not sure yet,” said Nasrudin. “I am negotiating with a couple of breakfast food companies, sir.”
The Perfect Gift
A friend gave a bottle of cheap liquor to Mulla Nasrudin as a birthday present. Later he asked the Mulla how it was. “It was just exactly right,” said the Mulla. “What do you mean just right?” asked the friend.

“Well,” said Nasrudin, “If it had been any better you wouldn’t have given it to me, and if it had been any worse, I couldn’t have drunk it.”
The Perfect Wife
Mulla Nasrudin was visited by a friend excited to speak with him. “I’m getting get married, Mulla,” his friend said, “and I’m very excited! Mulla, have you ever thought of marriage yourself?”

Nasrudin replied, “In my youth in fact I very much wanted to get married. I wanted to find for myself the perfect wife. I traveled looking for her, first to Damascus. There I met a beautiful woman who was gracious, kind, and deeply spiritual, but she had no worldly knowledge.

I traveled further and went to Isphahan. There I met a woman who as both spiritual and worldly, beautiful in many ways, but we did not communicate well. Finally, I went to Cairo and there, after much searching, I found her. She was spiritually deep, graceful, and beautiful in every respect, at home in the world, and at home in the realms beyond it. I felt I had found the perfect wife.”

“And you married her, Mulla?”asked his friend.

“Alas,” said Nasrudin, shaking his head, “She was, unfortunately, waiting for the perfect husband.”
The Philanderer
Mulla Nasrudin’s wife used to give the Mulla a regular inspection every night when he came home. Every hair she discovered on his coat would be cause for a terrible scene. One evening, when she didn’t find a single hair, she screamed at him, “Now you are even running after bald-headed women!”
The Quilt is Gone, the Dispute is Ended
Nasreddin Hodja was awakened in the middle of the night by the cries of two quarreling men in front of his house. He waited a while but they continued fighting, and Hodja couldn’t sleep. Wrapping his quilt around his shoulders, he rushed out to separate the men, who by now had come to blows.

But when he tried reasoning with them, one snatched the quilt off Hodja’s shoulders, and both men ran away. Hodja, weary and confused, returned to bed. “What was the quarrel about?” asked his wife. “It must be our quilt,” replied Hodja. “The quilt is gone, the dispute is ended.”
The Restaurant Bill
Judge Nasrudin was presiding over a case. The plaintiff went first and exclaimed, “The defendant refuses to pay his restaurant bill!”

“I would have,” the defendant countered, “but he charged me two hundred dollars for three hard-boiled eggs!” “Is this true?” Nasrudin asked the plaintiff.

“Well,” the other replied, “as I explained to him earlier, those eggs could have hatched into chickens, which in turn would have produced more eggs, which in turn would have hatched into more chickens, and so on, and so forth. The way I see it, his three eggs would have yielded me hundreds of dollars worth of chickens and eggs.”

“OK,” Nasrudin replied. “Wait here while I go plant some boiled peas in my garden.” “But Judge,” the plaintiff said, “boiled peas will not grow into anything.”

“In that case,” Nasrudin replied, “this case is dismissed!”
The Right Daughter-in-Law
Nasrudin, knowing his son was looking for a wife, asked him what type of wife he wanted. “One who is intelligent and expressive,” the latter replied. “OK,” replied Nasrudin, “I’ll help you find such a woman.”

So Nasrudin led his son to the town square. In front of all the people he slapped his son, and exclaimed, “This is what you get for doing exactly what I told you to do!”

One young lady saw this and remarked, “Stop hitting him. How can you punish him for obeying what you said?” When the son heard this, he turned to his father and said, “She seems like the right woman for me—don’t you think so?”

“Well,” replied Nasrudin, “she is certainly expressive and intelligent, but perhaps there’s a woman out there who is an even better fit for you.”

So Nasrudin led his son the neighboring town’s square, and repeated the same scene. This time, a young lady saw this and said, “Go ahead and hit him. Only a fool would follow orders so blindly.”

When Nasrudin heard this, he said to his son, “The first woman, she was intelligent and expressive—but this woman is on an entirely higher level altogether. I think we’ve found your future wife.”
The Right Language
A man was caught in a river current, hanging on to some rocks in order to avoid being carried away.
Nasrudin and a friend noticed this. The friend extended his arm, and said, “Give me your hand so I can help you out.”

The man, however, did not cooperate. Nasrudin then asked the man what he did for a living. “I collect taxes,” the other replied.

“Then take my hand,” Nasrudin said, upon which the man finally cooperated. Nasrudin then turned to his friend and remarked, “Tax collectors speak the language of take, not the language of give.”
The Smell of Food and the Sound of Money
One day a poor, hungry man took a dry piece of bread from his pocket, and held it over a hot cauldron of food in an open restaurant window. The dry bread became softer, and he began to eat it. But the restaurant keeper stopped him, demanding a fee for the cauldron’s steam. As the poor visitor had no money, they went to the judge.

Mullah was the town judge, so listened carefully to both men. Mullah took some gold coins from his purse, showed them to the restaurant keeper, and said, “Come here, please!” The restaurant keeper expected to receive the coins, but instead Mullah jingled them in the palm of his hands next to his ear. “Now the fee has been paid,” said Mullah.

“What do you mean?” the restaurant keeper insisted. “Justice!” Mullah replied, “the sound of money is a fair compensation for the smell of the food.”
The Soup of the Soup of the Hare
A neighbor visiting Hodja’s house after hunting, brought him a hare as a gift. Delighted, Hodja had the hare cooked into a stew, and shared it with his guest. Presently, however, one countryman after another started to call, each a relative of the man who’d brought the hare. No further presents were forthcoming.

Hodja cooked some soup from old hare stew, and shared it with his guests. At length Hodja grew exasperated. One day yet another stranger appeared. “I am the relative of the relative who brought you the hare.” He sat down, like all the rest, expecting a meal.

Hodja handed him a bowl of hot water mixed with salt and spices. “What kind of soup is this?” asked the stranger. “You are the relative of the relative of my neighbor, aren’t you?” Hodja replied. “And that is certainly the soup of the soup of the hare which was brought by him.”
The Walk Home
A local religious leader was not fond of Nasrudin. However, one night not wishing to walk home alone, he decided to join Nasrudin walking back to their neighborhood.

Reaching a steep section of road, the religious leader looked up and said, “Great God—surely you have made this path steeper to punish my companion for his not-so-exemplary behavior.”

“My friend,” Nasrudin replied, “you’ve got it all wrong. When I took this very road this morning on my way to work it was downhill, and a very easy walk. But now that you are accompanying me, it is sloping upwards like this!”
The Warmth of One Candle
Perhaps Nasr-ed-Din Hodja had been sitting too long in the warm coffee house swapping yarns with his friends. Boasts were growing bigger and bigger. None was bigger than the Hodja’s. “I could stand all night in the snow without any fire to warm me.”

“No one could do that!” One of the men shivered as he looked through the window at the falling snow. “I could!” The Hodja noisily gulped down one more hot cup of sweet black coffee. “I’ll do it this very night. If I have so much as a glow of fire to warm myself, I’ll give a feast for you all at my house tomorrow!” The wager was on.

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The friends of Nasr-ed-Din Hodja went home to their warm beds, while he stood alone in the snow-draped market square. He never realized how much longer the hours were at night than in the daytime. Once in a while a prowling dog or an adventuring cat would sniff at him, and then slink off to a snugger spot. The cold snow swathing his feet and tickling his neck was hard enough to bear. Harder still was the sleepiness that plagued him. It would never do to fall asleep in the snow. He must keep awake to stamp his cold feet and beat his cold arms.

He found that it was easier to fight off sleep if he fastened his eyes on the flickering candle in Mehmet Ali’s house across the market square. There was something cheering about the wavering of that tiny flame, which helped his tired eyes stay open. Morning came at last. Curious men met the shivering and yawning Hodja on his way home to a cup of hot coffee. They asked about his night and marveled at what he had done.

“How did you keep awake all night?” they asked. “I fixed my eyes on a flickering candle in Mehmet Ali’s house,” he answered. “A candle? Did you say a candle?”

“Of course!” The Hodja saw no harm in watching a candle.

“A lighted candle gives flame. Flame gives heat. You were warming yourself by the heat of that candle. You have lost your wager!”

At first the Hodja tried to laugh at their joke, but he soon found that they were not joking. For once, the Hodja was too tired to argue successfully. Try as he would, he could not convince his friends that a candle in a distant house could give no warmth to a cold man standing in a snowy market square.

“What time shall we come for the feast at your house tonight?” The laughing men gathered about the Hodja, insisting that they had won the wager. “Come at sunset,” said the Hodja.

Just after the muezzin’s musical voice sent the sunset call to prayer trilling over Ak Shekir, the group of men left their shoes in a row beside the house door, and entered the Hodja’s house.

“Dinner is not quite ready,” said Hodja from the kitchen. “Oh, that’s all right,” called the men. “We are in no hurry.” They waited. There was an occasional footstep in the kitchen, but no sound of clattering dishes. They sniffed the air to guess what the feast might be, but they could smell no cooking food. They waited, and waited, and waited.

“I hope you are not hungry,” called the Hodja from the kitchen. “Dinner is not quite ready yet.” “Perhaps we could help,” suggested a hungry guest. “Fine,” replied the Hodja. The men entered the kitchen.

There stood the Hodja earnestly stirring the contents of a big copper kettle which was suspended high in the air. Far below it burned one flickering candle. “Just a few minutes!” The Hodja, standing a-tiptoe, peered into the cold kettle. “It should boil before long. A candle gives so much heat, you know!”
The Ways of God
One hot day, the Hodja was taking it easy in the shade of a walnut tree. After a time, he started eyeing speculatively, the huge pumkins growing on vines and the small walnuts growing on a majestic tree.

“Sometimes I just can’t understand the ways of God!” he mused. “Just fancy letting tiny walnuts grow on so majestic a tree and huge pumkins on the delicate vines!”

Just then a fat, ripe walnut dropped right onto the Hodja’s bald head. After rubbing where the nut struck him, he lifted up his hands and face to heaven in supplication and said, “Oh, my God! Forgive my questioning your ways! You are all-wise. Where would I have been now, if pumpkins grew on trees!”
The Weeping Goatherd
When the Hodja came to the mosque one day he noticed an unknown goatherd below the speaker’s podium. The man had walked for three hours to attend the service, leaving his goats up in the mountains. While the Hodja preached he noticed how deeply the man was moved.

As the sermon progressed the goatherd pulled out a rag to wipe the tears flowing down his face. Hodja became more and more inspired, continuing until after a final crescendo, when he sat down. After the service he asked the goatherd what had moved him so deeply about the sermon.

“Oh Hodja, wise man,” replied the man, “last week my best billy goat died. The more I watched you talk, with your beard dangling, the more I thought of my billy goat, and the sadder I became.”
The World is Ending
Some of Nasrudin’s acquaintances wanted to get Nasrudin to kill his biggest goat and invite them for a meal. So one day they told him, “Did you hear the news?”

“No, what is it?” Nasrudin replied. “The world is coming to an end tomorrow!” the friend said.

Upon hearing this, Nasrudin invited them all to dinner that night to eat the goat. They ate it, but upon finishing, they discovered Nasrudin had taken all of their coats, and used them to kindle his fire.

They were outraged, and angrily protested, but Nasrudin interrupted, remarking, “Don’t you remember the world is coming to an end tomorrow? What difference does it make if you have coats or not?”
Tiger Powder
One day Mullah Nasreddin was sprinkling some powder on the ground around his house. “Mullah, what are you doing?” a neighbor asked. “I want to keep the tigers away.” “But there are no tigers within hundreds of miles.” “Effective, isn’t it?” Mullah replied.
To Keep it Going
Nasreddin Hodja used to stand in the street on market-days, to be pointed out as an idiot. No matter how often people offered him either a large or a small coin, he always chose the smaller piece.

One day a kindly man said to him, “Hodja, you should take the bigger coin. Then you will have more money, and people will no longer laugh at you.”

“That may be true,” said Hodja, “but if I take the larger one, people will stop offering me money, to prove I am more idiotic than they are. Then I would have no money at all.”
To Make the People Stop Talking
One day, Mullah and his son went on a journey. Mullah preferred to let his son ride the donkey while he walked. Along the way, they passed some travelers. “Look at that healthy young boy on the donkey! That’s today’s youth for you! They have no respect for their elders! He rides while his poor father walks!” The words made the lad feel very ashamed, and he insisted that his father ride while he walked.

So Mullah climbed on the donkey and the boy walked by his side. Soon they met another group. “Well, look at that! Poor little boy has to walk while his father rides the donkey,” they exclaimed. This time, Mullah climbed onto the donkey behind his son.

Soon they met another group, who said, “Look at that poor donkey! He has to carry the weight of two people.” Mullah then told his son, “The best thing is for both of us to walk. Then no one can complain.” So they continued their journey on foot.

Again they met some travelers. “Just look at those fools. Both of them are walking under this hot sun, and neither of them is riding the donkey!” In exasperation, Mullah lifted the donkey onto his shoulders and said, “Come on, if we don’t do this, it will be impossible to make people stop talking.”
Too Busy
“You need more recreation and relaxation,” said Mulla to his overworked friend. “But I’m too busy,” said the friend. “That’s silly,” replied Nasrudin. “Ants have the greatest reputation for being busy all the time, yet they never miss an opportunity to attend a picnic.”
Toothache
Mulla Nasrudin thought he was going to die with a toothache. He asked his friend, “What can I do to relieve the pain?” “I will tell you what I do,” his friend said. “When I have a toothache, or a pain, I go over to my wife, and she puts her arms around me, and caresses me, and soothes me until finally I forget all about the pain.” Nasrudin brightened up and said: “Gee, that’s wonderful! Is she home now?”
Troubles
Mulla Nasrudin was obviously envious of the rich man who just gave him a dollar. “You have no reason to envy me,” said the rich man. “Even if I do look prosperous. I have my troubles, too, you know.”

“You probably have plenty of troubles,” said Nasrudin, “But the difference is, I’ve got nothing else, sir.”
Turban of Wisdom
One day an illiterate neighbor brought Hodja a badly scribbled letter to read for him. When Hodja complained that it was illegible the man accused him of being unworthy of the “turban of wisdom” that he wore. Hodja was furious at the insult, so slammed the turban on his neighbor’s head. “Here,” he shouted, “you wear it and see if you can read the letter!”
Used Chair
Mulla, carrying a chair, approached the owner of a secondhand store, and asked how much it was worth. “Three dollars,” said the secondhand dealer. The Mulla seemed surprised. “Isn’t it worth more than that?” he said.

“Three dollars is the limit,” the owner said. “See that? Where the leg is split, and here where the paint is peeling?”

“Okay then,” said Nasrudin. “I saw it in front of your store marked $10, but I thought there must be a mistake. For $3 I will take it.”
Whatever You Say
One day Tamerlane invited Mullah to his palace for dinner. The royal chef prepared, among other things, a cabbage recipe for the occasion. After the dinner, Tamerlane asked, “How did you like the cabbage?”

“It was very delicious,” complimented Mullah. “I thought it tasted awful,” said Tamerlane. “You’re right,” added Mullah, “it was very bland.” “But you just said it tasted ‘delicious,’” Tamerlane noted.

“Yes, but I’m the servant of His Majesty, not of the cabbage,” he replied.
When Will the World End?
A philosoper asked Mulla, “I have been traveling, researching, and contemplating for years, trying to determine when the end of the world will be—yet I still have not found out the answer. Do you know when the end of the world will be?”

“Yes, I have known that information for a long time,” replied Nasrudin.”When I die, that will be the end of the world.”

“Are you certain it will?” the philosopher asked in disbelief. “It will be for me!” replied the Mulla.
Which Road
One day the Hodja was resting at a crossroad on the edge of the village. A stranger stopped to ask for directions. When Hodja asked which village he was heading for the stranger hesitantly and replied he wasn’t really sure. “Then it doesn’t matter which road you take,” said the Hodja, with the trace of a smile on his face.
Wife’s Death
While having breakfast one morning Mulla Nasrudin’s wife read the shocking announcement of her own death in the newspaper. She phoned Mulla Nasrudin who was out of town on business, and remarked, “Have you read the morning paper, Mulla? And, did you see the announcement of my death?”

“Yes,” said Nasrudin. “Where are you calling from?”
Without a Recipe
Nasrudin was carrying home a piece of liver and the recipe for liver pie. Suddenly a bird of prey swooped down and snatched the piece of meat from his hand. As the bird flew off, Nasrudin called after it, “Foolish bird! You have the liver, but what can you do with it without the recipe?”
Woodcutter in the Sahara
The forester was rather surprised to see such an unlikely figure as Nasrudin applying for a job. “I’ll give you a chance,” he said, “although you don’t look the type who could fell trees. Take this axe and chop down as many trees as you can from that plantation.” After three days Nasrudin reported back to him.

“How many trees have you felled?” “All the trees on the plantation.” The forester looked, and sure enough there were no trees left. Nasrudin had done as much work as would be expected from thirty men.

“But where did you learn to chop trees at that rate?” “In the Sahara desert.”
“But there aren’t any trees in the Sahara!” “No, not now! ” said Nasrudin.
Work Saving
“This tool is so useful, and so advanced,” said the salesman, “it will cut your work in half.” “Excellent,” said Mulla Nasrudin, “I will take two of them.”
World’s Greatest Bread Baker
In the middle of a chit-chat session with her friends, Nasrudin’s wife remarked, “My husband always acts like he knows everything.” Then as she and her friends discussed the matter, Nasrudin walked in asked the ladies what they were talking about.

“Oh,” his wife said, “we were just talking about bread baking.”

“Well,” Nasrudin replied, “then it is fitting that I entered the discussion. After all, I am one of the world’s greatest bread bakers.”

“Oh really?” she replied as she rolled her eyes to her friends. “Well, I’m sure you are. But let me ask you one thing-and please don’t take this to mean I am doubting you in any way.”

“What is it?” Nasrudin asked.

“In all the years we’ve been married, how come I’ve never seen you bake so much as a single loaf of bread?” his wife said.

“That’s easy to explain,” Nasrudin responded. “It’s just that the proper ingredients have never been together at the same time. When there is flour, there is no yeast. When there is yeast, there is no flour. And when there is both flour and yeast, I myself am not there.”
Worst Memory
Mulla Nasrudin was complaining about his wife to a friend. “I don’t know what I am going to do about her,” he said. “She has the worst memory in the world.” “You mean she forgets everything?” asked his friend. “Heck, no,” said Nasrudin. “she remembers everything.”
You Bight Be Bad luck
The Mullah is on his deathbed…

“Fatima,” he said, “We’ve been through so much together. Do you remember when the shop burned down, and we lost everything? We had to start all over from nothing, but you were by my side.”

His wife solemnly replied, “I remember, Mullah.”

“Fatima,” he continued, “when our little Ahmed was killed in that terrible donkey cart accident, I was heartbroken. I didn’t think I could go on, but you were by my side.”

She began to softly cry, “I know, dear.”

When I was shot hunting rabbits, you were there by my side. When we lost the house in that flood, and when my health started failing, you were still by my side.

“And now,” Sol went on, “As I’m about to leave this world, here you are…”

Fatima sobbed, “Right here by your side, dear Mullah”

“Fatima,” he said, “I’m beginning to think you might be bad luck.”
You’re Right
When Hodja was a judge a man came to his house to complain about his neighbor. Hodja listened carefully, then said, “My good man, you are right.” The man left happy.

A little while later that first man’s neighbor came to see Hodja. He complained about the first man. Hodja listened carefully to him, too, then said, “My good man, you are right.”

Hodja’s wife had heard all this, and when the second man left, she confronted Hodja, saying, “Hodja, you told both men they’re right. That’s impossible. They can’t both be right.” Hodja listened carefully to his wife, and then said, “My dear, you are right.”
Your Truth
Tamerlane was disturbed that his subjects were not telling the truth. How could this be corrected? He summoned all the sages he knew of and asked them all how to correct this difficulty. Each of them gave him very learned answers, but each response was complicated and difficult to follow.

Finally, Nasreddin Hodja appeared and explained to Tamerlane, “Your majesty, before one can understand absolute Truth one must first understand the relativity of Truth. Only after mastering the relativity of Truth can one approach an understanding of Absolute Truth.”

Continue reading…

Tamerlane exclaimed, “That’s too complicated, and I have an easier answer. I will set the Palace Guard at the city gate, and before anyone enters the captain will ask them one question. If they answer truthfully they may enter the city, but if they do not he shall hang them on the gallows. In that way this city will come to only harbor those who are truthful.

The next morning Hodja was first in line at the city gate. “Where are you going,” asked the captain of the guard.

“I am going to be hanged on those gallows,” said Hodja.

“That can’t be true,” said the Captain.

“Well, if it is not true then you will have to hang me,” said Hodja.

“But if I hang you then it will be true,” said the captain.

“Exactly,” said Hodja, “your truth.”
Zucchini or Cucumbers
Mullah Nasser-Eddin was asked, “Who’s better? King Abbas or Safi Ali-Shah?”

He answered, “Well, time and time again I ask my donkey, ‘Do you like it better when I load you up with crates of zucchini, or with cucumbers?’ he hasn’t answered me yet, so I don’t know.”