This Reminds Me Of A Story

When one comes for help, don’t give advice instead. It serves little but it irritates a lot. This reminds me of a story: Nasrudin went to Bekir the rich merchant to ask for one gold curuş : “Why do you need to borrow so much money?” asked Bekir, in turn. “I want to buy a camel to work my field.” “To work your field you need an ox, not a camel.” said Bekir. "Excuse me Bekir,” replied Nasrudin, “I came to you to ask for money, not for advice."

Beware the paragons of ascetism and abstinence. I am frightened of what may lurk and boil in their soul. And remember: God may forgive us for the sins we have made, but He will never ever forgive us for the sins we didn’t commit. This reminds me of a story: This is definitely not about Mullah Nasrudin. Moslems don’t do such things with unknown women. It is about an old Buddhist monk and sage. His name was Michi Hara. One day, Michi was walking along the muddy street, after the rain, holding his begging bowl, in company of a young novice. They saw a ravishing young woman in a beautiful silk robe apparently hesitating to step into the mud, the puddles and the dirt as she needed to go across. Michi, generous, stepped forth, took the lady in his arms without a word and carried her to the other sidewalk, where he left her on the dry pavement. He retired in silence, answering the ladies’ profuse thanks with a polite bow. After this, Michi and the apprentice walked for a long while through th

One advice may be good counsel but following all opinions is stupid without mistake. Listen to advice without interruption, and follow your own judgement. This reminds me of a story: One day, the Mullah went to the market in Konya with his son. As they only had one mule the son mounted it and the Mullah walked. A neighbour was appalled. "Now this is education! The old man walks while the lazy youngster rides!" "I told you, father", said the boy, and they changed places. Not far from there, a group of passers by shouted after them: "Tyrant! You, a full-grown man, ride the donkey while your child sweats and stumbles in the dust!" This time, they mounted together. In the next village, an angry crowd wanted to stone them: "Heartless people, do you want to kill that poor animal under your weight?" After this, they both followed the donkey afoot. At the gate of the town, the beggars were laughing their shirts off: "Look at these two fools! Their d

Circumstances are like boxes, contained in larger boxes, surrounded by still larger ones. When you rise to a wider view, some unattainable things come within reach. This reminds me of a story: Timur was open-handed with his courtiers but somehow he would always take more than he gave. One whispered once that he would give with both hands but take with his feet too. To put it short, Nasrudin the jester wasn’t earning much money in spite of his much appreciated entertainment and advice. Because of this, Tamerlane was intrigued to find out at one time that his Hodja was throwing expensive parties with many guests and giving alms to the poor of Samarkand. The Emir had Nasrudin called to explain: “I hear that you spend lavishly and indulge in philanthropy. Are you stealing me?” “Certainly not, kind Master, how could I dare such a thing? I spend my own.” “From whom do you have so much?” Nasrudin leaned forward confidentially and muttered: “I indulged in the sin of betting with rich people an

Critique is a gift. Be careful when you criticise. Friends deserve it but often take offence. Enemies get free lessons from your critique to strengthen their wrongdoing. A wise man must be a fool indeed to teach lessons to his own enemy. Don’t fix the wrong thing. For quite a while now, at the teahouse, as he sat at his favourite table sipping the sweet brew of the afternoon, a cheeky brat would pass and knock down Nasrudin's turban. This happened again and again but Nasrudin, as angry as he must have been, didn't say a thing. His face got red but he remained silent. The baker even asked him: "Hoca, how can you allow this impertinence? Why don't you stand up and teach him a lesson?" "Teach him?" said Nasrudin. "My scolding could make him more cautious so that later he may do more harm. As I dislike him, quite a lot, I will rather let his impertinence grow every day. I will take the advice of the prophet Issa and turn to him the other cheek. If I ke

Success has many parents but failure is always an orphan. Similarly, insolvency has no descendants, but wealth finds many inheritors. This reminds me of a story: The richest man in Aksehir, owner of several houses, shops, vineyards, and fields, died. At the funeral, among the numerous family members present, arrived in haste from the four corners of Anatolia, you could see Nasrudin, eyes in tears, moaning and exalting the good deeds of the deceased, with all the signs of deep regret and pain. Noticing this, a relative of the departed came to appease him and ask him: “Why do you suffer? You never met him and you aren’t even a distant relative of the deceased.” “This is precisely what I regret so much.”

In little time and with effortless agreement you can build up other peoples’ knowledge. For this, cause them to put their minds together and teach each other while you keep silent. The little they know will come up like oil on the water. Then, if you still have something left to say, add your own, without fear of repeating the obsolete. This reminds me of a story: Nasrudin was now a reputed philosopher. The day came when he decided to walk back and bring a tear of remembrance to native Horto, the village of his first childhood slap. The news was fast to spread over the fences. The elder of Horto, flattered by the visit of the great man hurried to bid him: "Pray, master, do come and share your wisdom with the people!" "Be it" he answered. At the heart of the market, duly mounted on a huge festive barrel Hoca addressed the crowd: "People of Horto" he started, "do you know what I will say to you?" "Yes we do", shouted some impertinent youn

Bad is never good until worse arrives. This maxim – reversed - is useful in unpromising situations. You could make things even tougher and then, get back to what was before. This reminds me of a story: Nasrudin the Mullah was dispensing much respected wisdom to the gent of Aksehir. The needy and the perplexed found light in his simple, deep words and the rich preferred to listen to his sermon rather than feel the bite of his sharp tongue. A man came to complain about his terrible poverty: “It is unbearable” he said, “I live with my wife, five kids, grand mother and grandpa in the one and only noisy room of a small hut and we must feed, all of us, mainly on the milk of my unique scabby goat. I am desperate, something must be done! What to do Mullah?” Nasrudin listened with his usual compassion, pondered for a while and then said: “This is a serious situation; we shall do one thing at a time. Go home and take the goat into the house. Feed it carefully and keep it there day and night. Com

Modest places require vital skills. If you are well educated, beware of the simple people. They may give you a lesson. This reminds me of a story: Now Nasrudin was a ferryman. One day he took a scholar in his boat. As he listened to the Hodja's chatter the learned man - a scholar equal to Rumi himself - observed some errors of speech and asked: "Tell me Hoca, did you ever study grammar?" "No." "What a shame! You wasted half of your life." Nasrudin grew silent. After a while he asked: "Wise one, did you learn to swim?" "No", said the professor. "What a pity! You wasted your entire life, Master. We sink. "

Tyrants deserve hypocrisy. Render therefore unto Caesar the things which be Caesar's, and unto God the things which be God's. And what is yours, keep for yourself. This reminds me of a story: Nasrudin presented to Tamerlane a dish of eggplant. It was the authentic Imam Bayıldı, the delicate dish that had an Imam faint with pleasure, prepared - as they do it at Konya - in honour of the Great Emir and in sign of the profound love and respect of the Turkish people for the generous conqueror and destroyer of their country. The cooks were lucky. Timur, who happened to be hungry, liked this course very much. He ate a second serving and said to the Hodja: “Worm, this is delicious. How come I did not know it before?” “Indeed, Master, said Nasrudin, it is the best thing we can eat in this world, a gift from Allah the All Beneficent. You did not savour it before because aubergines, the Indian “brinjal” were never cooked properly until we prepared them with Turkish skill and spice.” “Let

The best way to teach and to convince is to act like Socrates. Be a midwife not a schoolmaster. Come with seemingly empty hands, armed with discrete wisdom. Cook new knowledge from the ingredients everybody has and do not know how to value. When the skilled adviser did his work, people believe they are the ones who made it. This reminds me of a story: The wind and the looting hordes had blown away even the little hospitality a pilgrim might have expected. The farmers shut themselves behind their walls, with relatives, servants, cows, sheep and poultry, all hoping to forget the world outside. Nobody would offer this poor traveller the charity of some food and a sheltered corner for a night. After a good dozen of frozen doors slammed into his nose, Nasr Eddin tried a different way... He knocked on the tall wooden gate of a rich household on the hillside. "Allah help you!" said a servant, "we have nothing to give today." "A master cook of the kings d

“Occam’s razor” principle teaches us to shave away the useless complications. Keep it as simple as possible (but not simpler – would say Einstein). This reminds me of a story: Tired of so many years of travel and danger, Nasrudin was wandering back home. On his way he met a Sufi saint. They walked together for many days, in silence, heading for Konya. At the muddy banks of the Kizilirmak not far from Karalar, the large expanse of the waters halted their progress. For a while, they looked quietly at the peaceful settlement on the other side of the river. Unexpectedly, the saint spoke: "I can walk on water. It took fifty years of meditation, and now I am light enough. But I can’t take you with me." The Hodja raised his eyebrows: "Fifty years? That's a long time…" Followed another long moment of peaceful silence. Then Nasrudin added: "Concerning me… why not stroll over to that man with the boat and pay two coppers for the passage, both of us?"

You are worth to people as much as they hope from you, teaches Gracian the philosopher. Not as much as they owe you. Only fools count on gratitude. If you want something, offer expectation in exchange. This reminds me of a story: The sweaty Mullah tired by the big city felt it was time to take a good bath. The chambers and washrooms of the old Court hammam in Konya were swarming with merry people glad to escape the sandy heat of the simoom, the poisonous wind of the summer. As his garment was poor and his face shy, Nasrudin was given a soiled towel, stinky slippers, a tiny piece of scorched soap and, of course, no attention. Well, at least they let him in. On his way out, he did not forget to leave an amazingly rich tip - a small gold coin. The following week, when he went to the bath, our Hoca was pampered like a pasha: large soft towels, sandal-wood clogs, silk peshtemal, precious scented soap at the soaking pools, refreshing drinks, total massage - at the limit between h

You can pronounce all the right words and still not be understood. Use the talk fit to the folk you address. As the sage said, you cannot bring the people to the words, you must bring the words to the people. This reminds me of a story: St Peter Drowning CC J. Jaritz Kassim the taxman, the one squeezing the people each autumn for their last dime, fell into the fountain and was about to drawn. A flock of villagers stretched out helpful hands and shouted interrupting each other: “Your hand!” “Come, reach out! Let me have your hand” “Give me your hand! Quick!” All this, to no avail. The taxman kept thrashing around, choking and splashing, more and more exhausted. Now Nasruddin held out his arm and shouted: “Take my hand, Kassim!” The man instantly grabbed the hand and was pulled out of the water. To the amazed audience, the Hodja explained the obvious fact: “Did you ever see a taxman giving? They only know taking.”

When nothing else works, get offended. Indignation, if you keep calm, can be useful in lack of better arguments. You look stiff but dignified. You may get away with it. This reminds me of a story: Reposing peacefully under his porch, Nasreddin sipped warm sweet tea, with delight. Hassan, the neighbour, chose this moment to come and ask for a small favour. “Please Hoça, lend me your donkey. I need to carry my wood for this winter. I’ll bring it back, healthy and well fed, after tomorrow.” “I am so sorry," replied Hodja, "unfortunately I already lent him to my mother in law. He's away for a week to carry her water.” As Nasreddin finished saying this, the darn beast could find nothing better to do than to bray loudly from the stable. Hassan exclaimed: “Aaa! As I hear, Hoça, the animal is denying in his own voice what you just said.” At this Hodja turned red with anger and yelled: “Away with you, boor! If you take my ass's word over mine, we have n

“We learn from history that people learn nothing from history” finds one philosopher. “Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to live it again” adds another. Try at least to learn this: The change of kings is the joy of fools... This reminds me of a story: Leech attack CC C. Fisher The Mullah was sitting as usual, in his favourite spot by the watercourse under the old weeping willow, meditating deeply to the curious difficulty of bathing more than once in the same river. As he sat, a busy fox slipped into the water. A whirlpool almost drowned her. Then the currents tired her. Exhausted and drenched to the bone the poor beast was lucky enough to grab a hanging weed with her teeth. She kept afloat waiting to gather strength, enough to climb out the riverside. But she was really too weak to rise. This is when a bunch of leeches found the occasion good to stick unto the fox and feast merrily of her blood. Witness of such misfortune our good Mullah wis

You gain great freedom in the mind when you multiply your points of  view. Most people are slaves of only one - and proud of it. poor creatures, little do they know that you are a host today and a stranger tomorrow, and then the world, the same world will look quite different. You may need to find a simple way to make them understand that they are not the navel of the Universe. This reminds me of a story: Hoca was sitting by the river, enjoying a small pot of halwa, when a horde of mounted archers thundered onto the other bank in a cloud of dust. It was led by one of Timur's captains, who shouted across the waters: "Ho! Stranger! How do I get to the other side?" To this Nasruddin - who felt no hurry to get in touch - hollered back promptly: "Why bother? You are already on the other side!" ... As he hastened away, out of arrow’s shooting distance he added: "Besides, I m no stranger, I live here!"

If you have a gift of doing things with words, learn to keep your mouth shut. When you feel witty remember that a good joke never won over an enemy but often lost a friend. The right word can save a life but a bright one can put it on the line. Treasure then the clever word and use it sparingly, at the time of need. This reminds me of a story: Nasreddin was at one time a hermit high on the mountain, where no tree endures, where his peace of mind was preserved from renown by the sharp wind and the rolling stones. In silence, he understood everything, and his wisdom grew so vast that he even knew that which he did not know. Two young princes thought to mock this notorious sage. "Let's go to him and try him. When we get there, you will hide a sparrow in your hands, behind your back. We will ask him what we brought. He will guess, maybe. But then we will ask, "Does it live?" If he says yes, you wring its neck. If he says no, we show it alive."&

They cannot cheat everybody, all of the time. They can only deceive some of the people, some of the time. And that is sufficient for staying in business. This reminds me of a story: The Hodja had seven monkeys. One morning he told them: "I will give each of you three figs in the morning and four in the evening. That will feed you for the day and there is no more." The angry monkeys started to scream. "All right", he said, "I will give you four figs in the morning and three in the evening." With this, the monkeys were appeased.

Breughel, The Seven Acts of Charity Agreed, those who have should give to those who don’t. To do this freely is charity and goodness. But who has right to receive, to take what, from whom, is a conversation that overthrew empires. Tread with care! This reminds me of a story: It so happens that one autumn Nasreddin was appointed qadi of Aksehir. With the eagerness of the new broom, the fresh judge was impatient to clean the town of all the wrongs. Khadija, his wife came from the market and told him, “This morning I saw a man in rags falling down in a faint by the melon stall. So meagre he was! This is not right. The poor get poorer every day and the rich get richer. "Why let some people hungry and angry with envy while their neighbours lie sick with fatness? And what good is heaping up coins on top of other coins? You must go and tell everybody to share like real brethren and true believers." Hodja loved the idea. He was out the whole next day to talk with peopl

Do not deny yourself the little pleasures you can afford now. Let life test your abstinence with the many desires you cannot fulfil. Is it not true that having a strong will means obtaining what you want rather than abstaining from what you want? This reminds me of a story: Hodja’s wife bought some halwa. As it was the holy month of Ramadan, Nasreddin only had some of it, his preferred sweet, after sundown. The evening was too short to swallow it all. Quite a lot remained on the plate. They went to sleep but the Hodja couldn’t close an eye, half of the night. The remaining halwa, in the kitchen, spoiled his sleep. “There is halwa left” moaned he after a while. “Don’t worry, it’s safe in the kitchen, covered with a napkin, the flies won’t touch it” said Khadija. Soon Nasreddin started again, “I didn’t finish the halwa!” “Never mind, you’ll have it tomorrow night” After another while Hodja jumped out of the bed and run to the kitchen. He ate the whole lot, to the last cru

When you need to talk with many, don’t forget that your words get thinner as they pass from person to person, until there is nothing left. Likewise, when you give to everybody do not expect much from individuals. This reminds me of a story: They say that Mullah Nasreddin, the shameless thief of wisdom and jester of the kings, was, once upon a time, a poor but hospitable man, humble teacher in the town of Aksehir. One afternoon a man from Horto - one of his several native villages - paid visit to him and brought a fat duck as a present. The Mullah was exceedingly happy. Without delay he plucked the duck and prepared a delicious soup, which he shared with his guest. The day after, another man came to see the Hodja. He brought no present but he explained: "I am the brother of the man who offered you the duck." "Be welcome" said Nasreddin and invited him to share dinner. Another day passed and another empty-handed visitor knocked at the door. "

The false wisdom that working long and hard is all you need for success was invented to make the many toil for the few. As for the few, they know that arriving at the right time to the right place will take you much further. This reminds me of a story: Nasrudin used to sleep late. His neighbours woke up at the first break of morning. One day, at sunrise, one of them was lucky enough to find a gold coin in the dust of the road. That evening he gave a lesson to the lazy mullah. “Look at this Hoca! Allah provides reward for the early bird. Yesterday evening I was heading home tired on the empty road and I promise you, there was nothing in the dust. But rising early was rewarded in full. I was paid with this shining coin. Meanwhile, the late sleepers find nothing. There is some justice in the world.” “You are silly” answered Nasredin, “What justice? The one who’s mourning that coin was on the road earlier, even before you. And he still lost his money.”

Some rare people find new meanings for old things. Others give old explanations to new things. This is sad but so normal; for the man with the hammer, everything looks like a nail. This reminds me of a story: It was a dark autumn night. The Mullah, down on his elbows and knees, was searching assiduously in the dust, under the street light. A belated neighbour asked him: "What are you doing Hoca?" "I am looking for my key." The helpful neighbour got down on his knees to give a hand. They searched at length, without result. Tired, the man finally asked: "Tell me Hoca, are you certain that you lost your keys here?" "Of course not," replied Nasrudin, "I lost them in my cellar." "Then why on earth do you look for them in the street?" "For there is more light here."

If you want to really learn something, do it. You cannot swim on the shore. This reminds me of a story: This is the meaningful tale of the son of a thief, as the Mulla learned it in far away China and then told it as his own, many times: The son of a thief saw his father growing older and resolved to start helping him. “If you become too old, I will have to be the breadwinner of the family.” said he. “It’s time to teach me your craft of stealing, if you please.” The old thief agreed and took him the same night to rob a rich house. The thief cut a hole in the fence and they tiptoed into the house. Then he opened a large chest and pointed his son to go inside and look for jewels. As soon as the young man got in, the thief shut the lid, locked it, and left. He also threw a stone in the courtyard to wake up the family while he quietly slipped away through the fence. The people of the house lighted candles but found nothing. The son froze frightened, confined in the chest.

Bare truth is a sharp knife. As Balthasar Gracian said, you should seize things not by the blade, which cuts you, but by the handle to use them. Among people, clothe naked truth with good sense and politeness. This reminds me of a story: As everybody knows by now, Timur the Lame was not only limping but also one-eyed and crippled in one wrist. At one time of leisure, in Samarkand where he sat court and erected his sky-blue palaces, dream gardens and lavish imperial tents, the mighty Emir fancied his painted image to be made for the wonder and joy of generations to come. A portrait to last across the ages to show who he used to be. The court painter, who was sent for in China, displayed his finest art. For thirty days he ravished into a spitting image, a perfect reflection, the very twin of the living Timur, the incomparable emir, looking straight at you from the canvas. The thirty-first day, the ruler ordered the portrait to be uncovered, looked at it and grew angry: "T

Wisdom is constantly fitting your actions to your means not to your dreams. This reminds me of a story: At the coffee-house, everybody was bragging of their military exploits. “And you?” asked one turning to Nasreddin. “I? One day, on the battlefield, I cut an enemy’s leg with one strike of scimitar.” “Why not the head, as other people do?” “That was impossible. Someone else had already cut the head.”

It is most difficult to see things that are not there but the obvious is even harder to observe. Do fish notice water? No, it is all around them. Is water important for fish? Certainly, it is. This common difficulty to notice the evident makes detecting the obvious  a vital art of masters: learn to marvel why some long held belief is so certain and look at it otherwise. Such trifles can change the world. This reminds me of a story:  It used to happen when Nasreddin was still forever young and his beard was still black and cheeky, before his pilgrimage to the holy city of Mecca. Season after season, day in day out and even three or four times a day, he would ride his donkey through the toll gate up the valley. So often that you couldn't tell anymore whether he was coming or going, annoying like a buzzing fly. Time after time the customs officers would check his load, saddlebags and even his turban. They never found more than loads of hay. They knew there had to be someth

Some simpletons, too busy with what they want will importune you and then ask for a favour. To do better than this, when you petition think people! Care to understand them if you need their understanding. This reminds me of a story: Nasreddin was repairing the roof.  Not easy when you are beyond your first youth. A neighbour called him from the street. “Hoça!” “Yes” “ C ome down, I have something important to talk with you.” “Can’t wait?” “It’s urgent!” The Mullah climbed down from the roof with some pain. “What is it?” The neighbour whispered into his ear, confidentially : “Can you please lend me five silver akce?” “Come up with me.” said Nasreddin. The man worked his way up a creaky ladder after  the Hodja. This took some time, as Nasreddin was old and not so quick. Finally on the roof he asked again : “Can I have the money now?” Nasreddin leaned over and whispered confidentially into his ear: “I ’m so sorry, I do not carry my purse with me whe

When the whole world smells fish.. you better clean  your nose. Understanding these words will spare you much trouble and danger in your life. This reminds me of a story : How will be the people in the next town? Nasreddin was on his way home from saint Mecca . Midway on the sandy road between two cities he met a man. They greeted each other and sat down to chatter, as lonely travellers are so happy to do. "Tell me Hoca," asked the pilgrim, who looked tired and worried, "since you came that way you must know. How are the people in the city from where you come and where I happen to go?" The mullah inquired: "First tell me how were the people in the town you come from?" "They were despicable evil people. They were out to get me. I was lucky to escape them." "Well, my friend, they will be all the same in the city where you go."

Beware; nothing is impossible for the man who does not have to do it himself. Dictators, theorists, politicians gone astray from reality will come upon you with utopian nowhere places and reckless orders and doctrines, without care for your life or for the realities you live. But as an African proverb goes, "when the great lord passes, the wise peasant bows deeply and farts in silence". When faced with lunatic, dangerous commands, survive with unashamed make-believe. Under tyranny, public delusion is a way of life. This reminds me of a story: Some learned people say this story was about bright Birbal, the Hindu sage at King Akbar’s court. But I say for my purpose that it was about Nasreddin, at Tamerlane’s palaces in Samarkand. At that time Nasreddin still had the ear of Emir Timur, and enjoyed the luxury of speaking some truth from time to time. From the gold thrown to him by the master, our Mullah had built for himself a nice house, with a nice little g

There is nothing new in the world but for a newborn all the stories are new. For the newcomer to Nasreddin Hodja, the 111 stories that follow promise a discovery. As for Nasreddin’s old friends, they are a modest aide-mémoire. This booklet was mainly written for my imaginary grand children. I collected the traditional Hodja fables under this title because, to advise or teach, I do not like to tell one directly how to think or what to do. Instead, almost everything “reminds me of a story”. Often, it is a Nasreddin story. As I am a shameless thief of wisdom, my last concern is to be original. Of late, I care to plant some good seed, not to boast as when I was young: “Me! Me! Me!” These stories belong to the world, they were told for centuries and only the narration is mine. I worked hard to rewrite the folkloric gems in my own words, in this language which is not my mother tongue, in order to avoid the tyranny of other people’s copyrights. I want everyone to enjoy freely - as all kn