This Reminds Me Of A Story

Some people insist to measure and judge you by that which you are not, which you do not have, you cannot, or that which you do not know. Reject this stupid abuse; assert credit for who you are, for what you do and what you know. This reminds me of a story: The splendid court of Samarkand was glittering with the loot of twelve conquered kingdoms. Maulana Nasr Ed Din, the eating guest of Emir Tamerlane spent his days dressed in pure silk, sat at the King's table, and lay his fingers on the finest delicacies brought from the confines of the empire. The advisers sought his advice and the powerful laughed heartily at the bite of his jokes, while the Kinsman of the Khan showered him with small gold coins. It is related that a party of young noble princes, still unknowing of the ways of the world, met the old Mullah one day amidst the trees of the royal garden and challenged his worth: "Now tell us Seeker of the Truth, from all people you must know; how many grains of sand

It is hard to correct people who know for certain but there are ways to make them discover the wider truth; here is one of my ways of doing it: to challenge peoples' certitudes from inside grow them. Develop them. Usually, they burst into paradox. Then, help them rise and see themselves from above, at their real dimension, where what they do to other people is applied to them. This reminds me of a story: One day Nasrudin found a dervish stealing figs in his orchard. As he grabbed the fakir by the neck he shouted: “What do you think you are doing here sheikh?” “Nothing wrong, answered the Sufi with insolent confidence. I am Allah’s loving servant, feeding on the fruit of God’s tree in Allah’s garden.” “Is that so!”, growled the Hodja and proceeded to beat him with no pity but with a solid wooden stick instead. “Infidel! screamed the dervish, how do you dare rising your hand upon a saint? Don’t you see what you are doing?” “Nothing wrong, replied the Hodja. Just hitt

We don't learn from experience, but from the way we understand it. It is God's hand in everything or simply the work of your own hand. This reminds me of a story: After another one of his many battles with the rebellious Black Sheep, Timur rode back to his tents and sat on his throne, surrounded by his court. For a long time the roomful of courtiers and noblemen was silent, waiting for him to speak. Until finally he sighed loudly and said: "A horse saved me." Everyone started breathing again and rivalled in ooh's and aah's, glad as they were to learn that their master was safe and sound, and, additionally, that he harboured no bad feelings towards them, at least not for the moment. "How did this happen, Amir?" asked the Grand Vizier of the Grand Emir. The Grand Emir took a deep breath, and told the story, slowly and eloquently: "Impetuous in my chasing of an enemy chieftain whose name is already forgotten, and which I wanted to cu

Things that do not exist have an enormous potential; unhindered by fact, everything becomes possible. to imaginary problems you can impart imaginary solutions, at will. Moreover, the non existent is indistructible and forever reliable. Build your castles in imaginary, intangible realms and you will never be proven wrong. This reminds me of a story: When Hodja was a cadi, two peasants came to plead their case. The first one was very convinced of his right: “This man was carrying a big load of dry wood. He lost balance and fell. The wood spread all around him. As I was near him, he asked me for help. I asked him what he would give me for the assistance. “Nothing.” he answered. I agreed: “All right, I will do it for nothing.” I gathered with him all the fallen wood and then put it on his back. When we got to his home I asked him to pay me nothing but he refused. It is my right though. I demand to be paid as agreed.” The second man confessed that indeed he did agree to pay n

Few things teach like show-how. Only experience is stronger. Reserve this for the important insights. This reminds me of a story: One early morning, Tamerlane sent for Nasrudin. "Listen, worm" he spoke, "Once more I did not find sleep this night. I was thinking of Hell and Heaven. I was trying to figure how those places could be. But there was a veil on my mind's eye. I thought I give you a chance to teach me today about the kingdoms of the after-world, or, if you don't know, to send you to find out for me. See what I mean?" Hoca looked the Emir in the eye and said: "You don't need to know both those places, old thief. And who are you, but a lame duck with a rusty sword, unworthy of even raising your question to such unworldly things?" Red in the face, Timur drew his formidable scimitar to chop the insolent head and wash his hands in fresh blood. Nasrudin was flung on his knees. The curved blade rose above him like the wing of Azr

Cultivate the art of profuse excuses. Nobody believes them but at least you prove that you care and have imagination. This reminds me of a story: A neighbour came, again, to ask Hodja to lend him his donkey, Abdul. “I must go and ask Abdul first,” answered Nasrudin.” If he agrees, he’s yours for the whole day.” He went and came back after a short while: “How unfortunate! He is totally unwilling. He said that things can only go wrong, and I, his master will come out with a disadvantage. If you go in front of him, he will bite you. If you go behind him, he will kick you. If you mount him he will bolt and throw you. Anyway, whatever of these, you will curse me.”

Tempters are those who lure you to be what you are not, or worse, to think no evil. It is a loosing game. This reminds me of a story: The mighty and terrible Tamerlane, conqueror of numberless kingdoms, had, besides his awesome qualities, a couple of minor shortcomings. He was limping - to the comfort of his enemies who called him Timur the Lame - his hand was crippled and he was also blind in one eye, as it seems. But where he set his foot the grass never grew again and everything he saw with that one evil eye of his he proved able to conquer. At the zenith of his fortunes, he desired to be handsome too. Alas, the Emir could not conquer, grab and burn himself to the ground to get what he wanted. So, he thought to pay. He promised a shower of gold and emeralds and honours to whomever cured him. Unfortunately, the healers were shy to come forward, as Tamerlane's temper was notorious. For want of volunteers, the impatient ruler reverted to his favourite scapegoat, Nasrudin.

He who steals an egg today, will steal an ox tomorrow. Hunger develops imagination; that is true for the fool but not for the idiot. This reminds me of a story: Once, when Nasrudin was still a kid, his father sent him with a sack of wheat to the mill. There was a long waiting line. Nasrudin spent his time snatching handfuls of wheat from other people’s sacks and adding it to his own. This went on until the miller caught him: “What do you think you do here!?” he shouted. “Oh, sorry,” answered Nasrudin “I am such a fool! I imagined myself when I was a baby playing in the sand. In my distraction I was carrying wheat here and there.” “Since you are a fool, why didn’t you take grain from your bag into the others’?” “Excuse me” replied Nasrudin, “I am a fool, not an idiot.”

Be careful, kings only, and not all of them, understand that having a jester at court – to tell them bold truth – is a luxury. Common people laugh at your jest and then treat you for an idiot. Be sparing with making a fool of yourself! This reminds me of a story: The Spanish envoy, chamberlain Clavijo, offered to Tamerlane a precious chest full of barbarian presents. Among the daggers with jewelled hilts, Toledo swords, scarlet brocade, unknown Christian saints’ icons and heavy chains of gold, there was a rare device, a superbly polished silver mirror. With that mirror the Iron Emir looked at his own royal face and did not like what he saw. A tear escaped from his vulture eye and quickly ran across the ravaged battlefield of his face to hide in the fearsome dark beard. Nasrudin Hodja, the wise fool and favourite jester, prostrated at the sultan’s feet, burst into loud crying and laments. Timur was first impressed but Hoca went on and on weeping and tearing his hair out for hours

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:” A time to be born, and a time to die; …a time to be wise and a time to be like everybody else. Don’t choose the wrong time. This reminds me of a story: Hodja was travelling alone in the wilderness. Suddenly a tiger appeared, not far away. Hodja run for his life. As he didn’t have time to look, he slid behind the bushes into a precipice. By chance, he got hold with one hand of a large root hanging out from the rocks. He looked upwards. The tiger growled at him from above. He looked down. Below, another tiger was snarling at him. He felt weary. Two small legendary mice, one black and one white proceeded to slowly gnaw at the firm sustaining root. Nasrudin’s heart filled with fear. Then he saw in the green moss in front of his nose a sweet, fragrant, red strawberry. With a short movement, while clutching one hand on the root he picked the fruit with the other and eat it, and it was marvellous. Then he fe

Noble is sacrifice for the public good! It will be wise though to ask yourself whether a given public is good enough to deserve it. This reminds me of a story: After trampling so many of Bajazet’s spahis and janissaries in the great battle of Ankara, Tamerlane’s war elephants deserved a vacation and good food. Accordingly, the Emir spread them to pasture one by one in many Turkish villages with orders to let them feed aplenty and to treat them with the respect due to his own envoys. One, ended up in Nasrudin’s village. First, the villagers gathered to admire that beast never seen before. As they all enjoyed excellent eye-sight, they admired the whole and choose each of them their preferred part. One observed that the animal had legs like trees or stone pillars. Another marveled at the trunk and called it a water spout. The third compared the ears with huge fans, large like carpets. Yet another admired the back, large and haughty, equal to a throne. But while they replenished their

I witness that besides growing the freedom of choices in your mind, learning helps you feel less lonely when everybody deserted you. Many souls are with you when you learn. This reminds me of a story: One morning, four years before his days were all counted Tamerlane had Nasrudin called and said: "This day I feel inclined to ponder. It occurs to me that I spent so much of my life reading the thoughts of my enemies and then, counting their skulls, that I didn't take time all these years to read books and better myself. Is it too late for me? As you are a teacher, teach me. How would that be, to seek improvement at my age?" "You can always light a small candle, Great Amir" "Are you testing my patience, worm? What help is a small candle for the master of an empire spread from sunrise to sunset?" "Sublime Padishah, learning is light: “For a young child study is like the sun that will make him see the whole world in broad daylight. “For t

You see this one and that one doing without shame to others what they hate to be done unto them. But when it comes to their own interest they demand justice. This reminds me of a story: Three robbers, who had stolen a sack of corn, disagreed on how to share it. As each thought to have the highest merit to the booty they decided to go to Nasrudin the Hodja for arbitration. “Hodja,” said they, “you have read the Quran. We trust that you will find for each the right share of the corn. We will abide by your ruling.” “Tell me how you stole the corn and what was done by each of you to deserve a share” ordered Nasrudin who was pondering how to treat such dangerous petitioners. “I knew about the sack, and where it was stored,” said the first. “Without me there would be no corn. I have right to half of it.” “I kept an eye on the owner’s house, ready to kill him with my yatagan if he ever came out to surprise us.” said the second. “Mine was the riskiest part of the robbing, so that I deserve at

The ability to marvel when considering the simplest of things is the sign of fine intelligence but looks silly to the stupid. “What good is an idle thought,” they say, “when you can’t even sell it?” This reminds me of a story: The new market-street in Samarkand was as rich as you can imagine a place where they piled up and sold the incredible loot of Timur's conquests. In his magnanimity, the Emir had drawn a straight line across the town, side to side. He ordered all houses thrown down and replaced within twenty days by an endless row of fountains and arched shops, each with the same white earthenware bench in front and the same two chambers, front and back. Inside the shops one could see magnificent goods that ranged from the finest cotton to precious silks, elegant lambs-wool hats to chiselled stone. There was paper, porcelain, enchanting perfumes, carpets, pearls and spices, more carpets, musk, halva! In some shops one could just glimpse gold jewellery hammered as thin

Surprise is the weapon without a blade. You can floor people by the sheer power of the unexpected. This reminds me of a story: One night the Hodja was sleeping in his bed, snoring peacefully after a busy day when he was awaken by somebody, obviously a burglar, who was cautiously investigating the pitch-dark room. With an unexpectedly friendly voice he addressed the anonymous presence: “Light a candle please, so that I can see you.” The stranger froze. “Fear nothing, my good man,” continued Nasrudin. “I only want to see the gifted one who is able to find, in the darkness, something valuable, here in my poor house where, in broad daylight, I find nothing.”

It is easy to influence people by exaggerating in one direction in order to obtain an opposite response. This reminds me of a story: Out on the road under the blazing sun, the ever hungry Hodja – the pilgrim – found a party of merchants. They were eating a lavish, appetising lunch of smoked cheese, olives, flat bread and juicy fruit with delicious refreshing drinks, in the shade of the one big green tree of the endless sandy plain. This vision was worse than the heat of the sun and the ache of the soles. Something had to be done. While passing by he threw up his hands and exclaimed: “Allah have mercy on me! Not again! This road is infected with outlaws! You are the second gang of foreign robbers I meet in one day! Anyway, enjoy your loot and thank you for not robbing me this time! Surprised, the travellers protested with indignant voices: “We are not thieves, but honest, friendly merchants!" "We are good Muslims from Medina." This here is our honest meal, earned by Allah

Do not burn all the bridges! Do not spit in the well! Death only is final. Try to always leave some little thing, some reserve behind you so that you may come back. Life changes. Sometimes a foot in the door is your way back to lost friends and property. This reminds me of a story: This was the year when all went bad. Hodja’s father died. The draught scorched the vineyard and the cornfield. Abdul the donkey perished of snake bite. The war tax ravaged Anatolia. There was nothing left but heat and dust, except for the beautiful little house Hodja inherited from his father, with its old, rich, fig tree, its red tiled roof and its vine covered porch so pleasant for a rest. To survive that year, Nasrudin borrowed one thousand dirhams from Hakim, who said he was not a usurer. But he was. When the time came to pay back the money, Hakim pointed at the contract and made it plain: “You pay the money, or you go to jail. Or, you give me your house and I tear up the contract.” Nasrudin lo

Often those who teach cannot do and those who find the fault cannot fix it. Nothing wrong in this provided you understand to take from each what they can offer instead of believing foolishly that he who can do more can do less too. This reminds me of a story: Around the tents of the big encampment everyone was busy at the king's orders. The slaves were slaving, the horses horsing, the scribes scribing and - of course - the soldiers soldiering. The Mullah only, as Tamerlane's fool or advisor - nobody knew for certain - was free to roam about and mingle with everything and everyone he liked. Which he did. By the right side of the royal pavilions, the dismounted archers of the Guard, the elite of the Chagatai Horde, were practicing their skill, observed now and then by the sharp eye of Tamerlane who knew better than anyone else the old truth: it is the eye of the owner that gets the cow fat. Nasreddin, always helpful, provided rich comment about the best mann

Did this happen to you? Ask for help against a thief and the policeman investigates you. The people of the order don’t like to deal with disorder. It’s easier to search the victim. This reminds me of a story: Hodja’s donkey was stolen from his shed. He rushed to complain to the magistrate of the village. “Misfortune,” he said, “my help, my precious, my only donkey was stolen!” “Tell me exactly how it happened!” commanded the asas bashi. Nasrudin looked at him surprised: “How should I know how it happened? I was not there when it was stolen!”

Most people believe that asking questions is something that goes by itself. But I see that questions are like doors; if you open the right one you may go where you need. Through the wrong one, you go nowhere, or worse, to the wrong place. Before seeking answers you must spend time and find the right question. This reminds me of a story: Nasruddin  folded his legs, sat down in front of the sultan’s palace and proceeded to shout in the evening breeze, with the resounding tone of a muezzin calling to the prayer: “All your questions answered, Inch Allah! Whoever you are, I answer your questions! Any questions. The pure truth! No wavering! One hundred silver dinar for two questions of your choice! Your deepest questions answered, Inch Allah!” The sultan himself distracted by this noise came out and when  Nasruddin  was in his presence, asked: “ Hodja, isn’t one hundred dinar shamelessly too much?” “Yes Sublime Padishah," replied Nasrudin. "And what is your second questio

Sometimes, you can make a fool of yourself to let people find out how ridiculous they are. The least clever don’t understand, at first. But, slowly, it dawns on them too. This reminds me of a story: Peace had finally broken out in Anatolia, so the hay market tea house in Aksehir was once again the setting for much bragging about military exploits. Listening to the group, you would have thought yourself to be in the company of legendary heroes and survivors, chosen to live and tell their tale by the miraculous decree of Allah, blessed be his name. Abdul the hamal gave an account of the fearless way in which he, with incredible force, precipitated a huge block of stone from a hill, smashing to pieces no less than three chagatay archers. Yusuf the barber slashed the air with his fuming chibook to show how he cut a vicious arab into two equal halves. Mahmud the fat milkman shook the backgammon tavla illustrating how he used to strangle his enemies, two at a time. After a while, Nasrudin gr

The last insanity of the rulers is to conclude that they are God. In fact this ridiculous illness befalls also a number of petty backyard tyrants, when some little power over people goes to their head. This reminds me of a story: One day as Tamerlane relaxed in private counsel with his favourite fool Nasreddin he grew inspired. In that moment of secrecy, away from the crowd, he felt inclined to confess the great truth and said: "God speaks to me!" The Hodja, looked at him very surprised and answered sternly: "I didn't say anything."

Sometimes language is silly. Revealing it makes people think. Well, some of the people. This reminds me of a story: The gates of Samarkand were closed for the night when a busy traveller demanded entry. “No strangers are admitted after sunset!” shouted the guard. “I am no stranger! I am Nasrudin the Hodja, advisor to Emir Timur!” The gate opened and an incredulous and menacing soldiery emerged: “Can you identify yourself?” Hodja extracted a small mirror from his bag, looked into it and replied: “Yes, it’s me.” The guards looked at each-other and agreed: “Yes. It can only be him.”

The mind has definite limits but we don’t see them because we do not know what we do not know. However, there is a way to feel those frontiers - trying to understand paradoxes like “What I say is false.” This reminds me of a story: Tamerlane, may Allah keep him forever where he belongs, was sick and tired of the flatterers at his court, ready to lie away the stars from the sky and say to him whatever he seemed to desire. He loved to know all the truth (even details I am shy to mention), he wanted to possess every bit of it, and he used it sparingly. At once, the Iron Emir sent a firman across the empire to summon a jester that would tell him the whole truth and nothing but the truth. "Truth is safety! Rasti, Rusti! Let the candid people come to me freely! My royal tent is wide open, day and night. I will ask each of them one question. The sincere will be safe, but the one who lies, I will have his head cut. Him who is truthing, I will take in my service, garb in silk and feed at

It is amazing how much people worry about funeral observances. Isn’t your true feeling the most important thing? This reminds me of a story: A man came to seek advice from Hodja concerning burial customs. “Pray Hodja,” he asked. “When the stretcher or the casket is carried in silence by the friends or family, I as a well meaning visitor, where should I place myself in the funeral procession? Behind, on the right side or on the left side? Or should I walk far in front of them?” “Don’t worry so much my good man. There is only one place where you should definitely not be placed: on the stretcher or in the casket.”

Some people just don’t want to take no for an answer when it is about their interest. Yours, they don’t see at all. This reminds me of a story: “Hodja, can I please have your laundry rope for a couple of days? We do our spring washing tomorrow.” “Unfortunately the rope is busy. My wife is drying flour on it.” “But Hodja, who can imagine such an incredible thing – drying flour on a rope? Is that even possible?” “Well neighbour, little do you know what it's possible to do to avoid lending your rope when you don’t wish to.”

Hypocrites should be paid with barefaced fabrication. In this way there will be a little justice in this world. This reminds me of a story: Three poor pilgrims were proceeding on the long road back from Mecca. It so happens that one of them was our Hodja who had joined the other two that same day. After the evening prayers, Nasrudin extracted from his meagre bag a flatbread and told his companions: “This is what I have. What do you bring?” “Our bags are empty. It is Allah The Nourisher who will provide our food!” “We can share my bread,” offered Nasrudin. “Certainly not!” said one of the pilgrims. “This is a small piece of bread, sufficient just for one. We must wait until Allah will give us a sign showing who shall eat it.” “He’s right,” added the second. “Let’s sleep now. The one of us who has the dream most beautiful among us three will deserve to eat this morsel by himself, inch Allah.” Because of this, Nasrudin went to sleep hungry. Next morning, one of the pilgrims told his dream

People may be born equal but at the market they are certainly not all the same. As they say, some are more equal than others. This reminds me of a story: The souk was so crowded that you could easily mistake it for a carpet of beards. Nasrudin addressed a tall young man next to him: “May I salute you, young master! Aren’t you by any chance the imam’s nephew?” “Not at all.” “The son of the cadi, maybe?” “Certainly not!” “One of Timur’s envoys?” “Nothing of this, my good man.” "In this case, you son of an adultery bitch, step off my toe before I hit you right on your stupid nape!”

Prayer reveals the praying one as questions lay bare the questioner. Listen and learn about people. This reminds me of a story: It was Friday afternoon, after the zuhr, at the tea house in Nasrudin’s village. Groups of weary men sat outside, drinking tea while resting from the hard work of the week. Yet they were not allowed to rest. Like a gadfly, a young bearded dervish newly arrived in the village flew from group to group, admonishing Allah to grant him his infinite grace: “Praise be onto Allah, Inspirer of Faith. May he give me lasting faith, that I may follow his glorious way for all my life,” he yelled near one group of somnolent farmers. “Humiliator, please give me humility, that I may recognise that I am no better than a worm drying in the sand,” he added with intent, passing a merchant. Tirelessly, he walked through the terrace, loudly granting himself Allah’s praise. “Doer of Good, make me do good, and preserve me from the evil ways,” he pronounced, his arms spread, looking s

Let me wonder again at the power of changing with one single word the meaning of a whole situation. Such turns of phrase are good to treasure in your memory. Nasreddin’s sharp mind is a school of bringing down mighty Goliath with a mere sling. This reminds me of a story: There was a famous sheikh who hated Nasreddin’s wits. He decided to teach this insignificant mullah a public lesson that will put him right where he belonged. The best place to shame a mullah was of course under the porch of the mosque, at the hour when the believers flocked to attend the Friday noon sermon. The angry sheikh stepped out of the crowd towards Nasreddin and shouted – for everyone to hear: “Idiot!” In response, Hodja bowed to him with deep respect and answered with a friendly smile: “Pleased to meet you Master Idiot! I is an honour to make your acquaintance. My name is Nasreddin.”

Let’s face it. There is too little honesty in commerce. Too often, for some perverse reason, stealing from the buyer in the marketplace is called business. This reminds me of a story: A sunny winter day is excellent for selling donkeys. Fat, gray donkeys against the white snow. Buyers are well disposed in the sunshine and decide faster because of the cold. And the donkeys like it too. Young Nasrudin was exercising the noble donkey trade, with much success, to the amazement of the competing horse-traders. For his donkeys were the cheapest on offer. One evening, an old horse-trader took the Hodja aside: “Tell me young friend, in all confidence, how do you manage such low prices? In full honesty I tell you, I am an old timer and can’t beat you. I, myself, don’t pay my workers, steal the fodder, cheat on the weight and quality of the beasts, elude the taxes and your donkeys are still cheaper! How come?” “Since you ask, I will tell you. You steal too many things. I only steal the donkeys.”