The tales of Nasrudin are sometimes adapted and used as
teaching stories by followers of the Sufi
way. Iranian mystic traditions use jokes,
stories and poetry
to express certain teaching. I grow up with Mulah Nasrudin tales and
never knew him as Sufi teacher but loved his sense of hummer. it is
said, there are as many interpretations as stars in the sky. Enjoy.
Mullah Nasrudin was going into a large inn to sleep for the night.
There were many beds all in one room. The thought occurred to Nasrudin
that in the dark he would not know who he was, so he tied a balloon
to his ankle. While Nasrudin was sleeping, the man in the next bed
decided to play a joke. He untied Nasrudin's balloon and tied it on
his own ankle. When Nasrudin woke up, he looked at the man next to
him. Then he reached out to shake hands and said, "Ah, I know
who you are. You are Mullah Nasrudin, but please, tell me who I am."
Buy a Pair of Trouse
Mullah Nasruddin went into a shop to buy a pair of trousers.
Then he changed his mind and chose a cloak instead, at the same price.
Picking up the cloak he left the shop. "You have not paid,"
shouted the merchant. "I left you the trousers, which were of the
same value as the cloak." "But you did not pay for the trousers
either." "Of course not," said Nasruddin - "why
should I pay for something that I did not want to buy?"
A High Wind
Mullah Nasrudin climbed into someone's kitchen garden
and started filling a sack with everything that he could lay his hands
on. A gardener saw him and came running. "What are you doing here?"
"I was blown here by a high wind." "And who uprooted
the vegetables?" "I caught hold of them to stop myself being
swept along." "And how does it come that there are vegetables
in that sack?" "That is just what I was wondering about when
you interrupted me."
Hot Soup
Hearing that a man wanted to learn the Kurdish language,
Mullah Nasrudin offered to teach him even though Nasrudin's own knowledge
of Kurdish was limited to a few words. "We shall start with the
word for 'Hot Soup'," said Nasrudin. "In Kurdish, this is
Aash." "I don't quite understand, Nasrudin. How would you
say 'Cold Soup'?" "You never say 'Cold Soup'. The Kurds like
their soup hot."
On Forgetfulness
Mullah Nasrudin called at a castle to collect for charity.
"Tell your master," he said to doorkeeper, "that Mullah
Nasrudin is here and asks for money." The man went into the building,
then came out again. "I am afraid that my master is out,"
he said. "Let me give you a message for him, then," said Nasrudin.
"Even though he has not contributed he can have this advice for
free. Next time he goes out he should not leave his face at the window.
Someone might steal it."
A High Wind
Mullah Nasrudin climbed into someone's kitchen garden
and started filling a sack with everything that he could lay his hands
on. A gardener saw him and came running. "What are you doing here?"
"I was blown here by a high wind." "And who uprooted
the vegetables?" "I caught hold of them to stop myself being
swept along." "And how does it come that there are vegetables
in that sack?" "That is just what I was wondering about when
you interrupted me."
Hot Soup
Hearing that a man wanted to learn the Kurdish language,
Mullah Nasrudin offered to teach him even though Nasrudin's own knowledge
of Kurdish was limited to a few words. "We shall start with the
word for 'Hot Soup'," said Nasrudin. "In Kurdish, this is
Aash." "I don't quite understand, Nasrudin. How would you
say 'Cold Soup'?" "You never say 'Cold Soup'. The Kurds like
their soup hot."
Lost Again
One day there was news in every corner of the town about
Mullah Nasrudin's donkey, which he had lost. When his neighbors heard
the news they got sad, and decided to go to the Mullah's house and help
him to find his donkey. So they came to the Mullah's house and saw that
the Mullah was very happy and very thankful to God! They couldn't understand
it and asked the Mullah: " Mullah aren't you sad about loss of
your donkey?" The Mullah laughed and said, "I am happy because
God helped me that I was not riding it, otherwise I would be lost as
well."
This is for Last Week
Nasrudin went to a Turkish bath. As he was poorly dressed
the attendants treated him in a casual manner, game him only a scrap
of soap and an old towel. When he left, Nasrudin gave the two men a
gold coin each. He had not complained, and they could not understand
it. Could it be, they wondered, that if he had been better treated he
would have given an even larger tip? The following week Nasrudin appeared
again. This time, of course, he was looked after like a king. After
being massaged, perfumed and treated with the utmost deference, he left
the bath, handing each attendant the smallest possible copper coin.
"This," said Nasrudin, "is for last time. The gold coins
were for this week."
