ஆபிதீன் பக்கங்கள்

நண்பர் முஹம்மது சஃபியின் முகநூல் பதிவிலிருந்து, நன்றியுடன்…

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கொஞ்சம் உளவியல் தெரிந்தவர் முல்லா – சஃபி

மனமானது தாங்கமுடியாத கனமான, கசப்பான, நெருக்கடியான சம்பவங்களைச் சந்திக்கும் போது, சில தற்காப்பு உத்திகளைப் பயன்படுத்தி, தனக்குத்தானே அமைதி தேடிக்கொள்ளும். சமநிலையில் வைத்துக் கொள்ளும். அந்தத் தற்காப்பு உத்திகள், உளவியலில் ‘Defense Mechanisms‘ என்ற கருத்தாக்கத்தின் கீழ் சொல்லித் தரப்படும். அந்த உத்திகளில்ஆரோக்கியமானவையும் உண்டு. ஆரோக்கியமற்றவைகளும் உண்டு.
நான் இளங்கலை உளவியல் படிக்கும்போது தனிமனித அளவில் உருவாகும் அந்தத் தற்காப்பு உத்திகளை, சமூக அளவில் எதிரியைச் சாமாளிப்பதற்காக ஒரு நாடு உருவாக்கி வைத்திருக்கும் பாதுகாப்புப் படைகளோடு சம்பந்தப்படுத்தி ஒரு பேராசிரியர் பேசுவார்.
‘ஒரு நாட்டுக்கான ‘எதிரி‘ உண்மையானதாக இருக்கலாம். அல்லது கற்பனையானதாக இருக்கலாம். பாதிநேரம் கற்பனையானதாகவே இருக்கும். மக்கள் நலனைக் கணக்கிலெடுக்காமல். ராணுவத் தளவாடங்களுக்காக அதிகச் செலவிட்டு குடிமக்களை வறுமைக்குள்ளாக்கி நாட்டைச் சீரழித்து குட்டிச்சுவராகுக்குவது சமூக அளவில் ஆரோக்கியமற்ற பாதுகாப்பு உத்தி. அதேபோல தனிமனித அளவில் அதீத சுயமோகமும், எதார்தத்தில் கால்பாவாமல் அதீத கனவில் கற்பனையில் சிக்கிக்கொள்ளுவதும் மனதை வறுமையாக்கிவிடும். தடம்புரட்டி பிறழ்வாக்கிவிடும். நகைச்சுவை மனதின் சுவாதீனத்தைத் தக்கவைத்துக் கொள்வதற்கான ஆரோக்கியமான முதிர்ச்சியான உத்தி‘ என்று தனிமனிதனையும் சமூகத்தையும் தொடர்புபடுத்தி அழகாக விளக்கி வகுப்பெடுப்பார் அப்பேராசிரியர்.
நகைச்சுவைக்கு தனிமனித அளவிலும், சமூக அளவிலும் பயன்பாடுண்டு. நகைக்சுவையின் பிரதிநிதியாக கதைகளில் முல்லா நஸ்ருத்தீன் நிற்கிறார். லேசில் அணுகமுடியாத கடும் கர்வியாக நடந்து கொள்ளும் முல்லா, பெரும்பாலான கதைகளில் மனிதனுக்கு சுலபத்தில் வாய்க்காத அரிதான சுய எள்ளலுக்கு தன்னையே உட்படுத்திக் கொள்ளவும் செய்கிறார். சிலகதைகளில் இறுகிப்போன மதிப்பீடுகளுக்கு எதிராக நிற்கிறார்.
இக்கதைகளில் முல்லா எப்படியெல்லாம் பல்டி அடித்து சேட்டைகள் செய்து தனது ‘சுயத்தைக்‘ காப்பாற்றிக் கொள்கிறார் பாருங்கள்.
முதல் கதையில் முல்லா கற்றதை இடம் பொருள் ஏவல் அறிந்து, அவ்வப்போது கழற்றி வைக்கத் தெரியாமல் அவதிப்படுகிறார். முதல் முட்டைக்கதையில் முல்லா கூமுட்டையாக இருக்கிறார். இரண்டாவது முட்டைக் கதையில் வெற்றியைக் கொக்கரிக்கும் சேவலாக இருக்கிறார். கம்பியை கடன்கொடுக்க விரும்பாத கதையில் முல்லா முல்லாவாக நிற்கிறார். வெள்ளிக்கிழமையில், வெள்ளி அல்லாத நாட்களில் முல்லா என்ன செய்து கொண்டிருப்பார் என நம்மை யோசிக்க வைக்கிறார். கடைசித் துணுக்கில் முல்லாவின் கற்பனை எதிரி புலி..

1.கற்றதைக் கைவிடு
சுல்தான் தங்கள் பகுதிக்கு விஜயம் செய்திருப்பதை அறிந்த முக்கியஸ்தர்கள் பலர் அவரைப் பார்க்க தகுந்த பரிசுகளுடன் சென்றனர்.
அந்தக் கூட்டத்தில் முல்லா நஸ்ருத்தீனும் இருந்தார். அவருக்கு அரசவை நடைமுறைகள் எதுவும் சரிவரப் புரிபடவில்லை. ஒரு பிரதானி அவசரம் அவசரமாக முல்லாவுக்கு சுல்தான் வழமையாக என்னவெல்லாம் விசாரிப்பார் என்று சுருக்கமாகச் சொல்லிக்கொடுத்தார்
‘எவ்வளவு நாள் இங்கிருக்கிறீர்கள்? முல்லாவாக எவ்வளவு நாள் படித்தீர்கள்? போடப்படும் வரிகள் சம்பந்தப்பட்டு மக்கள் என்ன நினைக்கிறார்கள்? பொதுவாக மக்கள் திருப்தியாக உள்ளார்களா? என்ற கேள்விகளைச் சுல்தான் கேட்பார் என்று முல்லாவுக்குச் சொல்லப்பட்டது.
முல்லாவும் கேள்விகளுக்கான பதில்களை நன்றாகக் குருட்டு மனனம் செய்து கொண்டார்.
ஆனால் கேள்விகள் முறைமை மாறி வேறாரு வரிசைப்படி கேட்கப்பட்டன.
‘எவ்வளவு காலம் படித்தீர்கள்?‘
‘முப்பத்தைந்து வருஷம்“
அப்படியானால் உங்களது வயது என்ன?“
‘பன்னிரண்டு வருடம்’‘
‘அப்படி இருக்கவே முடியாது ! நம்மில் யார் பைத்தியம்?‘ என்று சுல்தான் கோபத்தில் கர்ஜித்தார்.
‘நாமிருவரும்தான்…மேன்மை தங்கிய சுல்தானே‘ என்றார் முல்லா.
‘என்னைப் பைத்தியம் என்று சொல்கிறாயா? உன்னை மாதிரியே?‘ என்று கோபம் குறையாமல் சுல்தான் தொடர்ந்தார்.
‘நிச்சயமாக நாம் பைத்தியங்கள்தான். ஆனால், வேறொரு வரிசையில் மேன்மை தங்கிய மாண்புமிகு சுல்தானே !‘ என்று மரியாதை குறையாமல் சொன்னார் முல்லா.

2. என்னவென்று யூகி?
ஒரு கோமாளி முல்லாவைப் பார்த்தான். அவன் பையில் ஒரு முட்டையை வைத்திருந்தான். அப்போது கோமாளி இருந்த பக்கமாக முல்லா நடந்து வந்து கொண்டிருந்தார்.
கோமாளி முல்லாவிடம்‘ முல்லா, நீங்கள் யூகிப்பதில் வல்லவரா?‘ என்றான்.
‘ரொம்ப மோசமில்லை“ என்று கேள்விக்குப் பதில் சொன்னார் முல்லா.
‘அப்படியானால் என் பையில் என்ன இருக்கிறது என்று சொல்லுங்கள்?“ என்றான் கோமாளி.
‘ஒரு துப்புக் கொடுங்களேன். சொல்கிறேன்‘ என்று கேட்டார் முல்லா.
‘முட்டை வடிவத்திலிருக்கும். அதனுள்ளே மஞ்சளும் வெள்ளையும் இருக்கும். முட்டை மாதிரி இருக்கும்‘ என்று கிட்டத்தட்ட முட்டையின் எல்லா அடையாளங்களையும் ஒன்றுவிடாமல் சொல்லிவிட்டான் கோமாளி.
‘அப்படியானால் அது நன்றாகக் கடித்துத் தின்னக்கூடிய, இனிப்பான தின்பண்டமாகத்தான் இருக்கும்‘ என்று கேள்வி வந்த வேகத்தியே பதில் சொன்னார் முல்லா.

3.முட்டைகள்
முல்லா நஸ்ருத்தீன் தனது தேஜஸைக் கூட்டிக் கொள்ள துருக்கி பாணியிலைமைந்த ஒரு குளிப்பிடத்திற்கு அடிக்கடிச் செல்வார். ஒரு நாள் முல்லா குளிக்க போனபோது, அங்கே சில விடலைப் பையன்கள் முட்டைகளுடன் இருந்தனர்.
இளைஞர்கள் இருந்த நீராவிக் குளியலறைக்கு முல்லா வந்தவுடன் அவரைச் சீண்டிப் பார்க்கும் நோக்கத்துடன் ,‘ நம்மை கோழியாகக் கற்பனை பண்ணிக் கொள்வோம். நம்மால் முட்டை இட முடியுமா?‘ என்று முயற்சித்துப் பார்ப்போம். அப்படி முட்டை போட முடியாதவர்கள் யாரோ குளியலுக்கான காசை அவர் எல்லோர்க்கும் மொத்தமாகச் சேர்த்து தரவேண்டும்‘ என்று அந்த இளைஞர்கள் சொன்னார்கள்.
முல்லாவும் அதற்கு ஓத்துக் கொண்டார்.
அந்த இளைஞர்கள் ஒவ்வொருவரும் முக்கிமுக்கி, சிறு முனகல் சத்தத்திற்குப் பிறகு, தன் பின்னாலிருந்து ஒரு முட்டையை எடுத்து அது நன்றாகத் தெரியும்படி உயர்த்திக் காண்பித்தார்கள்.
இளைஞர்கள் குறும்புடன் நஸ்ருத்தீன் பக்கமாகத் திரும்பி அவருடைய முட்டையைக் கேட்டனர்.
‘பல கோழிகளுக்கு மத்தியில், ஒரு சேவல் கூட இருக்காதா, என்ன?‘ என்று அவர்களிடம் பதில் கேள்வி கேட்டார் முல்லா.

4.ரொம்பக் கஷ்டமில்லை.
பக்கத்து வீட்டுக்காரர் முல்லாவிடம் துணி காயப்போடும் கம்பியை இரவல் கேட்டார்.
‘மன்னிக்கவும். நான் அதைப் பயன்படுத்திக்கொண்டிருக்கிறேன். அதில் மாவு உலர்த்திக் கொண்டிருக்கிறேன்‘ என்றார் முல்லா.
‘உலகத்தில் யாராவது கொடிக்கம்பியில் மாவைக் காயப்போடுவார்களா?‘ என்று இரவல் கேட்டவர் திருப்பிக்கேட்டார்.
‘ஓசியில் கொடுக்க வேண்டாமென்று நினைக்கும் போது, துணி உலர்த்தும் கம்பியில் மாவை உலர்த்துவதென்பது ரொம்பக் கஷ்டமான காரியமாக இருக்காது‘ என்று பதில் சொன்னார் முல்லா.

5. வெள்ளிக்கிழமை
முல்லா நஸ்ருத்தீனும் அவர் மனைவியும் ஒவ்வொரு வெள்ளிக்கிழமை இரவுதோறும் தாம்பத்ய உறவு வைத்துக்கொள்வதெனத் தங்களுக்குள் முடிவு செய்து கொண்டனர். முல்லாவின் மனைவிக்கு அந்த உடன்பாடு பெரிதும் திருப்தியளித்தது.
முல்லா தன் மனைவியைப் பார்த்து, ‘அந்த உடன்பாட்டைக் குறிப்பதற்கு நமக்கிடையில் ஒரு சமிக்ஞையை உருவாக்கிக் கொள்வோம். அந்த சமிக்ஞையைப் பார்க்கும்போது என் கடமையைச் செய்ய நேரம் நெருங்குகிறது என்பதை அது எனக்கு நினைவு படுத்தும்“ என்றார்.
அதைக்கேட்டுவிட்டு,“ ஒவ்வொரு வெள்ளி இரவு வரும்போதும் உங்களை தலைப்பாகையை படுக்கையறையின் மேலிருக்கும் கம்பியின் மீது தொங்கவிடுகிறேன். அதைப் பார்த்து வெள்ளி வந்துவிட்டது எனப் புரிந்து கொள்ளுங்கள்‘ என்று முல்லாவிடம் அவர் மனைவி சொன்னார்.
‘நல்லதாகப் போய்விட்டது. அந்த ஏற்பாடு நல்ல விஷயம். எனக்குக் கூட தோணாமல் போய்விட்டது‘ என்று பலமாக ஆமாதித்து தலையாட்டினார் முல்லா.
ஒரு நாளிரவு – அது வெள்ளி இரவு அல்ல- தாம்பத்தியத்துகாக ஏங்கிய முல்லாவின் மனைவி தான் படுக்கைக்குப் போகு முன்பு தலைப்பாகையைக் கம்பியில் தொங்கவிட்டு உள்ளே போனார்.
அதைக்கண்டு, “ மரியாதைக்குரிய மனைவியே, இன்று வெள்ளி இரவு அல்ல‘ என்று சத்தம் போட்டுக் கத்தினார் முல்லா.
‘இன்று வெள்ளி இரவுதான்“ என்று மனைவி விடாமல் பதிலுக்குக் கத்தினார்.
அதைக்கேட்டு,‘ மனைவியே, இவ்வீட்டின் போக்கை ஒன்று வெள்ளி இரவு தீர்மானிக்கட்டும். அல்லது நான் தீர்மானிக்கிறேன்‘ என்று முனகினார் முல்லா.

6. மனம்
நஸ்ருத்தீன் தன் வீட்டைச் சுற்றி ரொட்டித் துண்டுகளை வேகமாக வீசியடித்துக் கொண்டிருந்தார்.
‘என்ன செய்து கொண்டிருக்கிறீர்கள்? முல்லா“ என்று அந்தப் பக்கம் போய்க் கொண்டிருந்த ஒருவர் கேட்டார்.
‘புலிகளை விரட்டியடித்துக் கொண்டிருக்கிறேன்“ என்று சொன்னார் முல்லா.
“ இங்குதான் புலிகளே இல்லையே?. அவை வந்து போன தடயங்களையும் காண முடியவில்லையே?“ என்றார் கேள்வி கேட்டவர்.
“ ஆஹா ! அப்படியா ! எனது செயலால் புலிகள் பயந்து ஓடி விட்டன போலிருக்கிறது. எனது செயல்முறை சிறப்பாகச் செயல்படுகிறது, இல்லையா, நண்பரே?‘ என்றார் முல்லா.

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Thanks to : Mohamed Safi
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Related Links :
Inimitable Mulla Nasrudin – Idries Shah

சூஃபியின் மிதியடி – சஃபி

Mulla Nasrudeen .The name that every Afghan remembers hearing about in childhood. Here is few of the thousands of humurous and thoughtful stories about Him. His identity is being claimed by three countries. Afghanistan, Iran and Turkey. “The Nasruddin stories, known throughout the Middle East, constitute one of the strangest acheivements in the history of metaphysics. Superficially, most of the Nasruddin stories may be used as jokes. They are told and retold endlessly in the teahouses and caravanserais, in the homes and on the radio waves, of Asia. But it is inherent in the Nasruddin story that it may be understood at any of many depths. There is the joke, the moral – and the little extra which brings the consciousness of the potential mystic a little further on the way to realization. – Idries Shah

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NASRUDDIN – Keeper of Faith In Turkey, where some people allege Nasruddin is buried, there are HUGE locked gates at his grave site. Yet his headstone reads – “Sometimes you do not need a key to get through gates. All you need to do is walk around them as there are no walls.”
 

More Useful One day mullah nasruddin entered his favorite teahouse and said: ‘The moon is more useful than the sun’. An old man asked ‘Why mulla?’ Nasruddin replied ‘We need the light more during the night than during the day.’
 

Promises Kept A friend asked the mulla “How old are you?” “Forty replied the mullah.” The friend said but you said the same thing two years ago!” “Yes” replied the mullah, “I always stand by what i have said.”
 

When you face things alone You may have lost your donkey, nasruddin, but you don’t have to grieve over it more than you did about the loss of your first wife. Ah, but if you remember, when i lost my wife, all you villagers said: We’ll find you someone else. So far, nobody has offered to replace my donkey.”
 

Obligation Nasruddin nearly fell into a pool one day. A man whom he knew slightly was nearby, and saved him. Every time he met nasruddin after that he would remind him of the service which he had performed. when this had happened several times nasruddin took him to the water, jumped in, stood with his head just above water and shouted: “Now I am as wet as I would have been if you had not saved me! Leave me alone.”
 

Deductive Reasoning “How old are you, mulla? someone asked, ‘Three years older than my brother. ‘How do you know that?’ ‘Reasoning. Last year I heard my brother tell someone that i was two years older than him. A year has passed. That means that I am older by one year. I shall soon be old enough to be his grandfather.’
 

“When I was in the desert,” said Nasruddin one day, “I caused an entire tribe of horrible and bloodthirsty bedouins to run.” “However did you do it?” “Easy. I just ran, and they ran after me.”
 

A certain conqueror said to Nasruddin: “Mulla, all the great rulers of the past had honorific titles with the name of God in them: there was, for instance, God-Gifted, and God-Accepted, and so on. How about some such name for me?” “God Forbid,” said Nasruddin.
 

“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?”
 

Walking one evening along a deserted road, Nasruddin saw a troop of horsemen rapidly approaching. His imagination started to work; he saw himself captured or robbed or killed and frightened by this thought he bolted, climbed a wall into a graveyard, and lay down in an open grave to hide. Puzzled at his bizzare behaviour, the horsemen – honest travellers – followed him. They found him stretched out, tense, and shaking. “What are you doing in that grave? We saw you run away. Can we help you? Why are you here in this place?” “Just because you can ask a question does not mean that there is a straightforward answer to it,” said Nasruddin, who now realized what had happened. “It all depends upon your viewpoint. If you must know, however, I am here because of you – and you are here because of me!”
 

Once, when Mullah Nasruddin was visiting a Western town, he was invited to attend a fashion show. He went, and afterwards he was asked how he liked it. “It’s a complete swindle!” he exclaimed indignantly. “Whatever do you mean?” he was asked. “They show you the women – and then try to sell you the clothes!”
 

A man was walking along the street when he passed another man with a lot of stubble on his face standing outside a shop. The first man asked: “How often do you shave? Twenty or thirty times a day,” answered the man with the stubble. “What! You must be a freak!” exclaimed the first man. “No, I’m only a barber,” replied the man with the stubble.
 

Once, the people of The City invited Mulla Nasruddin to deliver a khutba. When he got on the minbar (pulpit), he found the audience was not very enthusiastic, so he asked “Do you know what I am going to say?” The audience replied “NO”, so he announced “I have no desire to speak to people who don’t even know what I will be talking about” and he left. The people felt embarrassed and called him back again the next day. This time when he asked the same question, the people replied “YES” So Mullah Nasruddin said, “Well, since you already know what I am going to say, I won’t waste any more of your time” and he left. Now the people were really perplexed. They decided to try one more time and once again invited the Mullah to speak the following week. Once again he asked the same question – “Do you know what I am going to say?” Now the people were prepared and so half of them answered “YES” while the other half replied “NO”. So Mullah Nasruddin said “The half who know what I am going to say, tell it to the other half” and he left!
 

One day , one of Mullah Nasruddin’s friend came over and wanted to borrow his donkey for a day or two. Mullah, knowing his friend, was not kindly inclined to the request, and came up with the excuse that someone had already borrowed his donkey. Just as Mullah uttered these words, his donkey started braying in his backyard. Hearing the sound, his friend gave him an accusing look, to which Mullah replied: “I refuse to have any further dealings with you since you take a donkey’s word over mine.”
 

A certain man claimed to be God and was brought before the Caliph, who said to him, “Last year someone here claimed to be a prophet and he was put to death!” The man replied, “It was well that you did so, for I did not send him.” (9th century joke)
 

A certain man claimed to be a prophet and was brought before the Sultan, who said to him, “I bear witness that you are a stupid prophet!” The man replied, “That is why I have only been sent to people like you.” (9th century joke)
 

Someone said to Ashab, “If you were to relate traditions and stop telling jokes, you would be doing a noble thing.” “By God!” answered Ashab, “I have heard traditions and related them.” “Then tell us”, said the man. “I heard from Nafai,” said Ashab, “on the authority of such-and-such, that the Prophet, may God bless him, said, “There are two qualities, such that whoever has them is among God’s elect.” “That is a fine tradition”, said the man. “What are these two qualities?” “Nafai forgot one and I have forgotten the other,” replied Ashab. (a 9th century joke)
 

A certain conqueror said to Nasruddin: “Mulla, all the great rulers of the past had honorific titles with the name of God in them: there was, for instance, God-Gifted, and God-Accepted, and so on. How about some such name for me?” “God Forbid,” said Nasruddin.
 

“When I was in the desert,” said Nasruddin one day, “I caused an entire tribe of horrible and bloodthirsty bedouins to run.” “However did you do it?” “Easy. I just ran, and they ran after me.”
 

NASRUDDIN MEETS DEATH Nasruddin was strolling to market one day when he saw a strange, dark shape appear, blocking his path. “I am Death,” it said, “I have come for you.” “Death?” said Nasruddin. “But I’m not even particularly old! And I have so much to do. Are you sure you aren’t mistaking me for someone else?” “I only kill people who are not yet ready to die,” said Death. “I think you’re wrong,” replied the Hoja. “Let’s make a bet.” “A bet? Perhaps. But what shall the stakes be?” “My life against a hundred pieces of silver.” “Done,” said Death, a bag of silver instantly appearing in his hand. “What a stupid bet you made. After all, what’s to stop me from just killing you now, and thus winning automatically?” “Because I knew you were going to kill me,” said Nasruddin, “that’s why I made the bet.” “Hmmm . . .” mused Death. “I see. But . . . but, didn’t you also know, then, that I would not be able to kill you, because of the terms of our agreement?” “Not at all,” said Nasruddin, and continued down the road, clutching the bag of money.
 

Once, Mullah Nasruddin bought a violin. And he began to play. NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…. Same note, same string, over and over. NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…. After a few hours his wife was at her wits’ end. “Nasruddin!” she screamed. NEEE.. Nasruddin put down the bow. “Yes dear?” “Why do you play the same note? It’s driving me crazy! All the real violin players move their fingers up and down, play on different strings! Why don’t you play like they do?” “Well dear, I know why they go up and down and try all different strings.” “Why is that?” “They’re looking for *this* note.” And he picked up his bow and resumed his playing. NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE….
 

Mullah Nasruddin went on a pilgrimage to Mecca, and on the way he passed through Medina. As he was walking by the main mosque there, a rather confused looking tourist approached him. “Excuse me sir,” said the tourist, “but you look like a native of these parts; can you tell me something about this mosque? It looks very old and important, but I’ve lost my guidebook.” Nasruddin, being too proud to admit that he, too, had no idea what it was, immediately began an enthusiastic explanation. “This is indeed a very old and special mosque.” he declared, “It was built by Alexander the Great to commemorate his conquest of Arabia.” The tourist was suitably impressed, but presently a look of doubt crossed his face. “But how can that be?” he asked, “I’m sure that Alexander was a Greek or something, not a Muslim. . . Wasn’t he?” “I can see that you know something of these matters.” replied Nasruddin with chagrin, “In fact, Alexander was so impressed at his good fortune in war that he converted to Islam in order to show his gratitude to God.” “Oh, wow.” said the tourist, then paused. “Hey, but surely there was no such thing as Islam in Alexander’s time?” “An excellent point! It is truly gratifying to meet a visitor who understands our history so well,” answered Nasruddin. “As a matter of fact, he was so overwhelmed by the generosity God had shown him that as soon as the fighting was over he began a new religion, and became the founder of Islam.” The tourist looked at the mosque with new respect, but before Nasruddin could quietly slip into the passing crowd, another problem occurred to him. “But wasn’t the founder of Islam named Mohammed? I mean, that’s what I read in a book; at least I’m sure it wasn’t Alexander.” “I can see that you are a scholar of some learning,” said Nasruddin, “I was just getting to that. Alexander felt that he could properly dedicate himself to his new life as a prophet only by adopting a new identity. So, he gave up his old name and for the rest of his life called himself Mohammed.” “Really?” wondered the tourist, “That’s amazing! But…but I thought that Alexander the Great lived a long time before Mohammed? Is that right?” “Certainly not!” answered the Mullah, “You’re thinking of a different Alexander the Great. I’m talking about the one named Mohammed.”
 

A neighbor who Nasruddin didn’t like very much came over to his compound one day. The neighbor asked Nasruddin if he could borrow his donkey. Nasruddin not wanting to lend his donkey to the neighbor he didn’t like told him, “I would love to loan you my donkey but only yesterday my brother came from the next town to use it to carry his wheat to the mill to be grounded. The donkey sadly is not here.” The neighbor was disappointed. But he thanked Nasruddin and began to walk away. Just as he got a few steps away, Mullah Nasruddin’s donkey, which was in the back of his compound all the time, let out a big bray. The neighbor turned to Nasruddin and said, “Mullah Sahib, I thought you told me that your donkey was not here. Mullah Nasruddin turned to the neighbor and said, “My friend, who are you going to believe? Me or the donkey?
 

One day Nasruddin repaired tiles on the roof of his house. While Nasruddin was working on the roof, a stranger knocked the door. – What do you want? Nasruddin shouted out. – Come down, replied stranger So I can tell it. Nasruddin unwilling and slowly climbed down the ladder. – Well! replied Nasruddin, what was the important thing? – Could you give little money to this poor old man? begged stranger. Tired Nasruddin started to climb up the ladder and said, – Follow me up to the roof. When both Nasruddin and beggar were upside, on the roof, Nasruddin said, – The answer is no!
 

Nasruddin opened a booth with a sign above it: Two Questions On Any Subject Answered For Only 100 Silver Coins A man who had two very urgent questions handed over his money, saying: A hundred silver coins is rather expensive for two questions, isn’t it? Yes, said Nasruddin, and the next question, please?
 

Nasruddin used to stand in the street on market-days, to be pointed out as an idiot. No matter how often people offered him a large and a small coin, he always chose the smaller piece. One day a kindly man said to him: Nasruddin, you should take the bigger coin. Then you will have more money and people will no longer be able to make a laughing stock of you. That may be true, said Nasruddin, but if I always take the larger, people will stop offering me money to prove that I am more idiotic than they are. Then I would have no money at all.
 

As Nasruddin emerged form the mosque after prayers, a beggar sitting on the street solicited alms. The following conversation followed: Are you extravagant? asked Nasruddin. Yes Nasruddin. replied the beggar. Do you like sitting around drinking coffee and smoking? asked Nasruddin. Yes. replied the beggar. I suppose you like to go to the baths everyday? asked Nasruddin. Yes. replied the beggar. …And maybe amuse yourself, even, by drinking with friends? asked Nasruddin. Yes I like all those things. replied the beggar. Tut, Tut, said Nasruddin, and gave him a gold piece. A few yards farther on. another beggar who had overheard the conversation begged for alms also. Are you extravagant? asked Nasruddin. No, Nasruddin replied second beggar. Do you like sitting around drinking coffee and smoking? asked Nasruddin. No. replied second beggar. I suppose you like to go to the baths everyday? asked Nasruddin. No. replied second beggar. …And maybe amuse yourself, even, by drinking with friends? asked Nasruddin. No, I want to only live meagerly and to pray. replied second beggar. Whereupon the Nasruddin gave him a small copper coin. But why, wailed second beggar, do you give me, an economical and pious man, a penny, when you give that extravagant fellow a sovereign? Ah my friend, replied Nasruddin, his needs are greater than yours.
 

One day Nasruddin 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 fur coat 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, Nasruddin took some soup with spoon and pushed it to the his fur coat and said, Eat my fur coat, eat! It’s obvious that you’re the real guest of honor today, not me!
 

One hot day, Nasruddin was taking it easy in the shade of a walnut tree. After a time, he started eying speculatively, the huge pumpkins 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 tinny walnuts grow on so majestic a tree and huge pumpkins on the delicate vines! Just then a walnut snapped off and fell smack on Mullah Nasruddin’s bald head. He got up at once and lifting up his hands and face to heavens in supplication, said: “Oh, my God! Forgive my questioning your ways! You are all-wise. Where would I have been now, if pumpkins grew on trees!
 

At a gathering where Mullah Nasruddin was present, people were discussing the merits of youth and old age. They had all agreed that, a man’s strength decreases as years go by. Mullah Nasruddin dissented. I don’t agree with you gentlemen, he said. In my old age I have the same strength as I had in the prime of my youth. How do you mean, Mullah Nasruddin? asked somebody. Explain yourself. In my courtyard, explained Mullah Nasruddin, there is a massive stone. In my youth I used to try and lift it. I never succeeded. Neither can I lift it now.
 

The wit and wisdom of Mullah Nasruddin never leaves him tongue-tied. One day an illiterate man came to Mullah Nasruddin with a letter he had received. “Mullah Nasruddin, please read this letter to me.” Mullah Nasruddin looked at the letter, but could not make out a single word. So he told the man. “I am sorry, but I cannot read this.” The man cried: “For shame, Mullah Nasruddin ! You must be ashamed before the turban you wear (i.e. the sign of education)” Mullah Nasruddin removed the turban from his own head and placed it on the head of the illiterate man, said: “There, now you wear the turban. If it gives some knowledge, read the letter yourself.”
 

One day Mullah Nasruddin lost his ring down in the basement of his house, where it was very dark. There being no chance of his finding it in that darkness, he went out on the street and started looking for it there. Somebody passing by stopped and enquire: “What are you looking for, Mullah Nasruddin ? Have you lost something?” “Yes, I’ve lost my ring down in the basement.” “But Mullah Nasruddin , why don’t you look for it down in the basement where you have lost it?” asked the man in surprise. “Don’t be silly, man! How do you expect me to find anything in that darkness!”
 

Mullah Nasruddin had visited a town for some personal business. It was a frigid winter night when he arrived. On the way to the inn a vicious looking dog barked at him. Mullah Nasruddin bent down to pick up a stone from the street to throw at the animal. He could not lift it, for the stone was frozen to the earth. “What a strange town this is! Mullah Nasruddin said to himself. They tie up the stones and let the dogs go free.”
 

One day Mullah Nasruddin went to the market and bought a fine piece of meat. On the way home he met a friend who gave him a special recipe for the meat. Mullah Nasruddin was very happy. But then, before he got home, a large crow stole the meat from Mullah Nasruddin’s hands and flew off with it. “You thief!” Mullah Nasruddin angrily called after departing crow. “You have stolen my meat! But you won’t enjoy it; I’ve got the recipe!”
 

Mullah Nasruddin was dreaming that someone had counted nine gold pieces into his hand, but Mullah Nasruddin insisted that he would not accept less than ten pieces. While he was arguing with the man over one gold piece, he was awakened by a sudden noise in the street. Seeing that his hand was empty, Mullah Nasruddin quickly closed his eyes, extended his hand as if he was ready to receive, and said, “Very well, my friend, have it your way. Give me nine.”
 

Mullah Nasruddin was unemployed and poor but somehow he got little money to eat beans and pilaf at a cheap restaurant. He ate and examined walking people outside with the corner of the eye. He noticed a long, handsome swashbuckler (bully man) behind crowd. The Man was well dressed from head to foot, with velvet turban, silver embroidered vest, silk shirt, satin baggy-trousers and golden scimitar (short curved sword). Mullah Nasruddin pointed the man and asked restaurant keeper, “Who is that man over there!” “He is Fehmi Pasha’s servant, answered restaurant keeper.” Mullah Nasruddin sighed from far away, looked at the sky and said: “Oh, my Good Lord! Look at that Fehmi Pasha’s servant and look at your own servant, here.”
 

One day a visitor came to Mullah Nasruddin with a question. “Mullah Nasruddin, the place that we humans come from and the place that we go to, what is it like?” “Oh,” said Mullah Nasruddin, “it is a very frightening place.” “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.”
 

One day Mullah Nasruddin wished to learn playing zurna (a kind off shrill pipe) and visited a zurna player. “How much does it cost to learn playing zurna?” asked Mullah Nasruddin. “Three hundred akche (coin) for the first lesson and one hundred akche for the next lessons,” asked zurna player. “It sounds good,” replied Mullah Nasruddin. “We may start with second lesson. I was a shepherd when I was a young boy, so I already had some whistle experiences. It must be good enough for first lesson, isn’t it?”
 

One day Mullah Nasruddin went to market to buy new clothes. First he tested a pair of trousers. He didn’t like the trousers and he gave back them to the shopkeeper. Then he tried a robe which had same price as the trousers. Mullah Nasruddin was pleased with the robe and he left the shop. Before he climbed on the donkey to ride home he stopped by the shopkeeper and the shop-assistant. “You didn’t pay for the robe,” said the shopkeeper. “But I gave you the trousers instead of the robe, isn’t it?” replied Mullah Nasruddin . “Yes, but you didn’t pay for the trousers, either!” said the shopkeeper. “But I didn’t buy the trousers,” replied Mullah Nasruddin. “I am not so stupid to pay for something which I never bought.”
 

Once a renowned philosopher and moralist was traveling through Nasruddin’s village when he asked him where there was a good place to eat. He suggested a place and the scholar, hungry for conversation, invited Mullah Nasruddin to join him. Much obliged, Mullah Nasruddin accompanied the scholar to a nearby restaurant, where they asked the waiter about the special of the day. “Fish! Fresh Fish!” replied the waiter. “Bring us two,” they answered. A few minutes later, the waiter brought out a large platter with two cooked fish on it, one of which was quite a bit smaller than the other. Without hesitating, Mullah Nasruddin cooked the larger of the fish and put in on his plate. The scholar, giving Mullah Nasruddin a look of intense disbelief, proceed to tell him that what he did was not only blatantly selfish, but that it violated the principles of almost every known moral, religious, and ethical system. Mullah Nasruddin calmly listened to the philosopher’s extempore lecture patiently, and when he had finally exhausted his resources, Mullah Nasruddin said, “Well, Sir, what would you have done?” “I, being a conscientious human, would have taken the smaller fish for myself.” “And here you are,” Mullah Nasruddin said, and placed the smaller fish on the gentleman’s plate.
 

“Mullah! What do they do with the old full moons?” “They cut them up into small pieces and make the star”
 

One day people founded Mullah Nasruddin pouring the remains of his yogurt into the lake. “Mullah Nasruddin , what are you doing?” A man asked. “I am turning the lake into yogurt,” Mullah Nasruddin replied. “Can a little bit of yeast ferment the great river?” The man asked while others laughed at Mullah Nasruddin . “You never know perhaps it might,” Mullah Nasruddin replied, “but what if it should!”
 

“Mullah Nasruddin, which side must I walk when carrying a coffin, at the front, back, left or right?” “Take which you like best, so long as you are not inside!”
 

One day Mullah Nasruddin was asked “Could you tell us the exact location of the center of the world?” “Yes, I can,” replied Mullah Nasruddin . “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.”
 

A group of philosophers traveled far and wide to find, and, contemplated for many years, the end of the world but could not state a time for its coming. Finally they turned to Mullah Nasruddin and asked him: “Do you know when the end of the world will be?” “Of course, said Mullah Nasruddin , when I die, that will be the end of the world.” “When you die? Are you sure?” “It will be for me at least,” said Mullah Nasruddin .
 

One day two small boys decided to play a trick on Mullah Nasruddin. With a tiny bird cupped in their hands they would ask him whether it was alive or dead. If he said it was alive they would crush it to show show him he was wrong. If he said it was dead they would let it fly away and still fool him. When they found the wise old man they said, “Mullah Nasruddin, that which we are holding, is it alive or dead?” Mullah Nasruddin thought for a moment and replied, “Ah, my young friends, that is in your hands!”
 

“Mullah Nasruddin, why do you always a question with another question?” “Do I?”
 

A certain man asked Mullah Nasruddin, “What is the meaning of fate, Mullah Nasruddin ?” “Assumptions,” Mullah Nasruddin replied. “In what way?” the man asked again. Mullah Nasruddin looked at him and said, “You assume things are going to go well, and they don’t – that you call bad luck. You assume things are going to go badly and they don’t – that you call good luck. You assume that certain things are going to happen or not happen – and you so lack intuition that you don’t know what is going to happen. You assume that the future is unknown. When you are caught out – you call that Fate.
 

On a frigid and snowy winter day Mullah Nasruddin was having a chat with some of his friends in the local coffee house. Mullah Nasruddin said that cold weather did not bother him, and in fact, he could stay, if necessary, all night without any heat. “We’ll take you up on that, Mullah Nasruddin” they said. “If you stand all night in the village square without warming yourself by any external means, each of us will treat you to a sumptuous meal. But if you fail to do so, you will treat us all to dinner.” “All right it’s a bet,” Mullah Nasruddin said. That very night, Mullah Nasruddin stood in the village square till morning despite the bitter cold. In the morning, he ran triumphantly to his friends and told them that they should be ready to fulfill their promise. “But as a matter of fact you lost the bet, Mullah Nasruddin,” said one of them. “At about midnight, just before I went to sleep, I saw a candle burning a window about three hundred yards away from where you were standing. That certainly means that you warmed yourself by it.” “That’s ridiculous,” Mullah Nasruddin argued. “How can a candle behind a window warm a person three hundred yards away?” All his protestations were to no avail, and it was decided that Mullah Nasruddin had lost the bet. Mullah Nasruddin accepted the verdict and invited all of them to a dinner that night at his home. They all arrived on time, laughing and joking, anticipating the delicious meal Mullah Nasruddin was going to serve them. But dinner was not ready. Mullah Nasruddin told them that it would be ready in a short time, and left the room to prepare the meal. A long time passed, and still no dinner was served. Finally, getting impatient and very hungry, they went into the kitchen to see if there was any food cooking at all. What they saw, they could not believe. Mullah Nasruddin was standing by a huge cauldron, suspended from the ceiling. There was a lighted candle under the cauldron. “Be patient my friends,” Mullah Nasruddin told them. “Dinner will be ready soon. You see it is cooking.” “Are you out of your mind, Mullah Nasruddin?” they shouted. How could you with such a tiny flame boil such a large pot? “Your ignorance of such matters amuses me,” Mullah Nasruddin said. “If the flame of a candle behind a window three hundred yards away can warm a person, surely the same flame will boil this pot which is only three inches away.”
 

One December day the village boys decided to play a trick on Mullah Nasruddin to fool him. They hid Mullah Nasruddin’s coat when he was performing ablution for Friday ritual. But Mullah Nasruddin perceived that a trick on the way. “Mullah Nasruddin, it’s a cold day, why don’t you wear your coat?” asked one of them “I left my coat at home to keep the place warm!” answered Mullah Nasruddin.
 

Nasruddin was cutting a branch off a tree in his garden one day. While he was sawing, a man passed by in the street and said, “Excuse me, but if continue to saw that branch like that, you will fall down with it.” He said this because Nasruddin was sitting Nasruddin said nothing. He thought, “This is some foolish person who has no work to do but go around telling other people what to do and what not to do.” The man continued on his way. Of course, after a few minutes, the branch fell and Nasruddin fell with it. “My God!” he cried. “That man knows the future!” He ran after him to ask how long he was going to live. But the man had already gone.
 

Qazi (Judge) Nasruddin was working in his room one day when a neighbor ran in and said, “If one man’s cow kills another’s, is the owner of the first cow responsible?” “It depends,” answered Nasruddin. “Well,” said the man, “your cow has killed mine.” “Oh,” answered Nasruddin. “Everyone knows that a cow cannot think like a human, so a cow is not responsible, and that means that its owner is not responsible either.” “I’m sorry, Judge,” said the man. “I made a mistake. I meant that my cow killed yours.” Judge Nasruddin thought for a few seconds and then said, “When I think about it more carefully, this case is not as easy as I thought at first.” And then he turned to his clerk and said, “Please bring me that big black book from the shelf behind you…”
 

Mullah Nasruddin and his wife came home one day to find the house burgled. Everything portable had been taken away. “It’s all your fault,” said his wife, “for you should have made sure that the house was locked before we left.” The Neighbor took up the chant: “You did not lock the windows,” said one. “Why did you not expect this?” said another. “The locks were faulty and you did not replace them,” said a third. “Just a moment,” said Nasruddin, “surely I am not the only one to blame?” “And who should we blame?” they shouted. “What about the thieves?” said Nasruddin. “Are they totally innocent?”
 

That was the time Mullah Nasruddin’s family was very poor. One day Nasruddin ‘s wife woke him in the middle of the night and whispered, “Nasruddin, There is a thief in the kitchen!” “Shhh… Stupid woman! replied Nasruddin. Let him be. Perhaps he find something then we seize it!”
 

Ahmad, who was working a long way from home, wanted to send a letter to his wife, but he could neither read nor write. And since he was working during the day, he could only look for somebody to write his letter during the night. At last he found the ho “What does that matter?” answered Ahmad. “Well, my writing is so strange that only I can read it, and if I have to travel a long way to read your letter to your wife, it will cost you a lot of money.” Ahmad went out of his house quickly.
 

Nasruddin was returning home one night with one of his students when he saw a gang of thieves standing in front of a house, trying to break the lock. Nasruddin perceived that he would probably get hurt if he spoke up, so he decided to stay quite and pass by quickly. But his student however, did not understand what was happening so he asked: “What are all those men standing there doing?” “Shhh!” replied Nasruddin. “They’re playing music!” “But I can’t hear anything!” “Well we shall hear the noise tomorrow!” Nasruddin said
 

Nasruddin was awakened in the middle of the night by the cries of two quarreling men in front of his house. Nasruddin waited for a while but they continued to dispute with each other. Nasruddin couldn’t sleep, wrapping his quilt tightly around his shoulders, he rushed outside to separate the men who had come to blows. But when he tried to reason with them, one of them snatched the quilt off Mul shoulders and then the both of men ran away. Nasruddin, very weary and perplexed, returned to his house. “What was the quarrel about?” wondered his wife when Nasruddin came in. “It must be our quilt,” replied Nasruddin. “The quilt is gone, the dispute is ended.”
 

Three Thieves One night, three thieves of the Ut Khel tribe approached a peddler riding a donkey. After salaams, two of the thieves walked on either side of the peddler, regaling him with enchanting stroies, while the third walked behind, jabbing the donkey with a pointed stick to keep him moving at a steady pace. The two thieves then gently lifted the saddle of the weary peddler, while the third led away the donkey, heavily laden with bazaar goods. The peddler eventually fell asleep and the Ut Khel thieves lowered him to the ground and hastily left to join their fellow thief.
 

The Teacher A teacher (male) bought new shoes and a new watch and was dying to show off. In school he tried his best but his colleagues did not notice his new watch and shoes. He was eager to get some attention and congradulations, so as soon he walked in to his first class he began beating on the first student at his sight. Then he turned to others saying that if anyone else make a move, pointing to his watch and his shoes, “dar teeng saniya futbaletan mekunum!!!” I will kick you all in a second! The sudents finally notice his shoes and his watch and congradulated him. The teacher replyed: “khar-ha, chera az awal tab- rikee nadaden, zaroor nabood ke lat-te-tan kunum”; why didn’t you congradulated me from the beginning, I wouldn’t have had to beat any of you!
 

Daal Khurs Once the king of Afghanistan was invited to Indian (and Pakistan- before their independence). At the dinner table the Indian Prime Minister noticed that the king was chowing the chicken bones (after he had eaten the flesh). With a grin the PM murmmered: if the people here are eating the bones, what do the dogs eat? And the king answered: Daal.
 

Saifu An angry man came in to a cafe and yelled:” IS SAIFU HERE?”. No body answered so he yelled again: IS SAIFU HERE OR NOT? Finally a guy got up, “YAH, I AM SAIFU” he said, the angry man came closer and punched the guy, knocked him down on the floor and then left the cafe. The guy got up, cleaned his nose from blood and while every one was expecting a reaction from him, returned to his table without saying anything. Some one came and asked the guy: “How can you just sit here and do nothing? that man knocked you down and you are not even cursing him.” “You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I have done to him” said the man with a smirk. “What? How?” asked the other man with curious excitement. “I am not SAIFU” said the guy proudly.
 

One day Nasruddin was taking a walk in his village, when several of his neighbors approached him. “Nasruddin Hoja!” they said to him, “you are so wise and holy! Please take us as your pupils to 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.” The neighbors listened attentively until they glanced down at his feet, which were in fact quite dirty and shod in old sandals that seemed about to fall apart. “But Nasruddin Hoja,” said one of them, “your feet are terribly dirty, and your sandals are a mess! 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?”
 

ONCE UPON A TIME One day, Nasruddin came riding into town. The people stopped him to ask, “Why are you sitting back to front on your donkey?” He replied, “I know where I am going, I want to see where I have been.” Later that evening, Nasruddin was cooking up some things. He went to his neighbor and asked for a pot and promised to return it the next day. A knock, knock came on the neighbor’s door the next day. Nasruddin had come to return the pot. The neighbor looks at his pot and inside was one smaller. The neighbors said, “There is a small pot inside the one I loaned you.” Nasruddin told him, “The pot gave birth.” The neighbor was quite pleased to hear this and accepted the two pots. The very next morning, Nasruddin knocks on the neighbor’s door to borrow a larger pot than the previous one. The neighbor happily abides his the request. A week goes past, without Nasruddin knocking to return the pot. The neighbor and Nasrudding bump into each other at the bazaar a few days latter. Nasruddin’s neighbor asked, “Where is my pot?” “It’s dead,” says Nasruddin. “But how can that be?” queries the neighbor. Nasruddin points out, “If a pot can give birth, then a pot can also die.” “One afternoon, Nasruddin and his friend were sitting in a cafe, drinking tea, and talking about life and love. “How come you never got married, Nasruddin?” asked his friend at one point. “Well,” said Nasruddin, “to tell you the truth, I spent my youth looking for the perfect woman. In Cairo, I met a beautiful and intelligent woman, with eyes like dark olives, but she was unkind. Then in Baghdad, I met a woman who was a wonderful and generous soul, but we had no interests in common. One woman after another would seem just right, but there would aways be something missing. Then one day, I met her. She was beautiful, intelligent, generous and kind. We had everything in common. In fact she was perfect.” “Well,” said Nasruddin’s friend, “what happened? Why didn’t you marry her? Nasruddin sipped his tea reflectively. “Well,” he replied, “it’s a sad thing. Seems she was looking for the perfect man.” Once upon a time, Nasruddin went to the marketplace and put up a sign that read: “Whoever has stolen my donkey, please return it to me and I will give it to them.” “Nasruddin!”, exclaimed the townspeople, “Why would you put up such a sign?” “There are two great gifts in life,” replied Nasruddin. “One is to find something that you’ve lost and the other is to give something that you love away.”
 

Mullah Nasruddin and his beautiful daughter Mullah Nasruddin had a beautiful daughter, the desire of all the evil eyes of the men lived in his village. Everyone sought the hand of the fair maiden, but Mullah Nasruddin protected her from the ouside world, saving her for the wealthy young khan who lived just outside the village. At last the young Khan came to ask for the hand of the beautiful maiden. Mullah Nasruddin drove a hard bargain and was to receive the highest bride-price ever bargained for in the entir region. With the usual Muslim regard for ceremony, Mullah Nasruddin insisted on a long waiting-period before the wedding vows could be taken. It seems that the young and beautiful daughter of Mullah Nasrudin had a mind and a body of her own. She fell in love with a young stalwart ne’er-do-well in the village, who constantly showered her with attention as she went to the nearby well to gather water in the morning and at dusk. Her trips to get water began to take longer periods of time. Most people in the village know what was happening, but no one dared tell Mullah Nasruddin. The time for the wedding approached and the young, wealthy Khan came to collect his bride. Mullah Nasruddin brought her to greet her betrothod. Lo and behold! She was well pregnant by this time. The young, rich Khan was horrified, and turned on the Mullah Nasrudding, demanding to know why such a thing had occurred. And when Mullah Nasruddin merely replied that such things are normal when people get married, the young, rich Khan stormed out of Mullah Nasruddin’s compound, and said that he withdrew his offer of marriage to the young beautiful daughter of Mullah Nasruddin and therefore would expect a return on the down payment on the bride price. Mullah Nasrudding, genuinely shocked, called after the young, rich Khan and the young Khan retured. “let us be sensiable about this,” pleaded Mullah Nasruddin. “Actually, I should double the bride price now that my daughter is truly pregnant and can give you a son.” The young Khan, even more horrified, stuttered and asked, “In the name of Allah, why?” Mullah Masruddin calmly replied, “Why just last week I delivered a cow to a man to whom I had sold the cow several months before. In the interim period, the cow becammepregnant, and when I delivered the cow, I demanded and received twice the original amount. Now what is so different between a cow and a daughter?”
 

Mullah Nasruddin in Banguet Nasruddin heard that there was a banguet being held in the nearby town, and that everyone was invited. He made his way there as quickly as he could. When the Master of Ceremonies saw him in his ragged cloak, he seated him in the most inconspicuous place, far from the great table where the most important people were waiting on hand and foot. Nasruddin saw that it would be an hour at last before the waiters reached where he was sitting. So he got up and went home. He dressed himself in a magnificent sable cloak and turban and returned to feast. As soon as the heralds of the Emir, his host, saw this splendid sight they started to beat the drum of welcome and sound the trumpets in amenner befitting a visitor of high rank. The Chamberlain came out of the palace himself, and conducted the magnificent Nasruddin to a place almost next to the Emir. A dish of wonderful food was immediatly placed before him. Without a pause, Nasruddin began to rub handfuls of it into his turban and cloak. “Your Eminence,” said the prince, “I am curious as to your eating habits, which are new to me.” “Nothing special,” said Nasruddin; “the cloak get me in here and got me the food. Surely it deserves it portion.”

Problem of communication :
‘Language,’ said Mulla Nasrudin, ‘was devised to describe actions as well as
thoughts. That means that all you have to do is to get the words right, and
everything will be understood.’
‘But Mulla,’ said a friend, ‘surely that cannot apply to everything?’
‘Yes, it should.’
‘Then can you describe to me how the silk industry is carried out?’
‘Certainly. The first part is to get the worms and untwist that which is twisted.
The second part is to get rid of the worms and retwist that which has been
untwisted.’

***

From The Subtleties of the
Inimitable Mulla Nasrudin by

Idries Shah

from a sermon by Jaco B. ten Hove – Paint Branch UU Church – May 5, 2002 -Presented with the help of reader Leo Jones (Worship Associate)

***

 The people knew that Mulla Nasarudin was generally intolerant of preachers and lecturers, so they asked him to give a sermon. He climbed into the pulpit and said: “Do you know what I am going to speak about?”

“No,” everybody answered.

“If you are so ignorant, I am not going to waste time speaking to you,” Nasarudin said and climbed down from the pulpit.

The following day he put the same question to them. This time everyone’s answer was, “Yes, we know.”

“If you know,” Nasarudin replied, “then what am I here for?” And he left the mosque.

The third day, to the same question, half of the worshipers said, “We know,” while the other half said, “We don’t know.”

So Nasarudin responded: “Let those who know tell those who don’t.”

There you have a good example of Sufi philosophy, teaching methods and character, all rolled into one story. The abiding message of Sufism is clear: “Don’t listen to preachers or formulas. Avoid the polished sentiments of others. Find your ecstasy in yourself.” Sufis seek a union with God, which is the object of most mystical systems, only they follow a radical path within to get there. Along the way they locate themselves very much in the here and now.

And what has attracted me to Sufis, the little that I do know of them, is that they don’t lose their sense of humor along that path, as we shall see throughout this sermon.

Sufism is basically a mystical religion of the Middle East, rooted in early Islam and designed to increase the chances of one’s union with God by an ever-deepening experience of inward spirituality. It emerged strongest in Persia, but remains an active world religion today, sometimes called Neo-Sufism, with pockets of adherents in the West. Sufis-in the West, at least-emphasize a traditional unitarian notion that God is one with all life.

Sufism has always been a religion of immediacy. Philosophy must be relevant to the moment, to the context of this time and this place. They put little emphasis on dogmatic texts or static preaching and much emphasis on individual teaching and learning.

And even then, what is being taught is more to the point than the teacher, resisting the cult inclinations which have diverted some other mystical systems. Teacher and student alike must back up words with action. A 9th century master declared that

“A Sufi is one whose speech accords with behavior.”

My title today is distilled from this idea.

And character? Sufis are usually full of it. This Mulla Nasarudin is quite a character: beloved and beguiling. Sufis prefer to learn and practice their brand of Islamic mysticism through stories with multiple levels of meaning, especially ones that cleverly expose self-delusions or pompous pretensions. Nasarudin is a prime figure in such episodes (although not the only one). In arguments it is common strategy to make one’s point by working up to a Nasarudin story, which then becomes very hard to dispute.

One day, King Harun al-Rashid, who wasn’t very pleased with the free-thinking Nasarudin, said to him:

“If you can prove that I am no more powerful than other mortals, including yourself, I’ll give you a hundred gold pieces. If you fail, I’ll have you placed, with your head shaven, on the back of a donkey and driven around town as an imbecile.”

Nasarudin replied, “I’ll try, but first I would like you to order these flies not to bother me.”

“But flies won’t follow my orders,” the King said. Then he thought for a while and dropped the subject.

Nasarudin Hoja lived in 13th century Persia and is representative of a large number of what the Sufis respectfully call “wise-fools.” They were an independent and clever lot, possessed by a form of divine zaniness. They rank in influence among the cultural sages. One author summed it up this way: “Fools have been endowed with such a provision that a hundred scholars would be amazed by it.” The teachings contained in wise-fool stories have broad appeal and reach people of all educational levels.

Nasarudin Hoja himself went to divinity school in Turkey and attained the religious title of Mulla, only to give up his official post to follow the Fool’s Path to wisdom and survival. Survival is the wise fool’s forte.

Nasarudin was starving at one point when he passed through a village and heard that a wealthy landowner was dying.

“I am a doctor,” he said to the villagers. “Take me to his bedside.”

Once there, he felt the old man’s pulse and asked for a meal of fresh bread, fresh goat cheese, and ripe grapes. The servants brought them and left. Nasarudin ate the repast and prayed for the old man.

Just as he was leaving the village, his patient died.

“Your remedy gave the opposite result,” the villagers complained.

“Be thankful,” replied Nasarudin. “If it weren’t for my remedy, two would have died instead of one.”

Another time, Nasarudin dreamed that someone was giving him nine coins.

“Make it ten,” Nasarudin insisted, refusing to accept only nine coins.

Right then he woke up, empty-handed. Immediately he closed his eyes and said, “All right. I’ll take the nine coins.”

With a unique blend of serious intention and humor, Sufism has etched a subtle yet significant place in the history of religion. Sufis combine a subjectively sublime philosophy and an appreciation of the absurd with dedicated devotion. It has long been a distinct and popular undercurrent in Islam, compatible with it, spreading throughout the Middle East, although Sufis have often been persecuted, as well, particularly by rulers who don’t appreciate their independent attitude.

But especially in Persia, now Iran, Sufis have been very influential in the culture of the people. Many wise-fool tales have become so established that one can sometimes merely suggest a particular teaching story by just naming its punch line or an identifying element and listeners will understand the reference and nod in agreement. “Nasarudin’s quilt” is a notable example-an image that might immediately call up the story of a loud street quarrel orchestrated to draw Nasarudin out of his bed so that thieves could make off with his quilt. A similar deception can be named simply by invoking two words, “Nasarudin’s quilt” and people will respond, “Ah, yes.”

The Sufi synthesis also draws on early contact with Christian hermits and Greek mystical systems. Some point out that the root of their name, “Suf,” means wool in Arabic, supposedly after the rough robes of white wool worn by early mystics, in imitation of Christian monks. Others claim the name comes from the fact that the sound of the letters S, U and F together have a certain desirable effect. This debate is appropriately ambiguous.

Sufis often carry a benign posture that today we might call “a non-anxious presence.” A woman adept around the turn of the 9th century offered this description:

“A Sufi is [one] who neither fears hell nor covets paradise.”

Western incarnations of modern Sufism reflect their tolerant, universalist tendencies. Above all, Western students of Sufism must seek authentic written and oral materials and activities that are designed by local Sufis to operate within the students’ own culture, time and circumstance. The bulk of Middle Eastern translations are declared unsuitable because they were intended for specific audiences elsewhere. The philosophy must be reinterpreted anew by each aspiring Sufi. This is quite a contrast from some other more dogmatic religious traditions.

I do detect in Sufism a fair amount of dualism and a rejection of this world in favor of that mystical, other-worldly union with God. But what recommends Sufis, I think, is that their route to ecstasy is distinctly inner, and it upholds the dignity and integrity of the individual amid a plurality of paths.

They resist most attachments to earthly possessions, but personhood is quite important. Teachers always model their lessons, much as Nasarudin is a model. Sufism insists that it can be taught and learned in many ways, so there is no one convention. A true Sufi must judge authenticity each moment, for true authenticity emerges, again, from one’s immediate context and not from adherence to dogma or leaders.

To that extent, personality worship is distracting and forbidden. As the great 13th century Sufi poet and teacher Rumi suggests:

“Look not at my exterior form, but take what is in my hand.”

A teaching story about improper discipleship also involves Rumi. Since he was prone to spend long periods in his Turkish bath, his would-be followers took up this same practice, in hopes of similar illumination. But Rumi chastised them with a metaphoric lesson:

“Tie two birds together and they will not be able to fly, even though they now have four wings.”

An illustration of the humility of Sufi teachers is the title of one of Rumi’s books: “Fihi Ma Fihi,” which translates: “In it what is in it.” In other words, “You get out of it what is in it for you.” In a system like this, which is so customized to the individual, the Sufi teacher acquires a supreme relational authority. This is paradoxically required for the student to eventually trust him or herself to the degree that will allow the desired inner union with God.

Sufi women, by the way, are not so excluded as in most other religious groups. The followers of Haji Bektash, a 14th century master, admitted women to their meetings, calling for “social reinstatement of women” to redress the balance of a society based on male supremacy. Such progress was limited, of course, by wider restrictions, but notable nonetheless.

The authority of a Sufi teacher is demanding but benign, and very egoless. It is the main task of the teacher to encourage in the student the right response to needs, not desires. The needs of the student are determined by the teacher. And desires are like clouds, interesting but obscuring; visible but allowed to float on by.

Direction from the teacher is to be unchallenged, but not so civil or royal authority, which in its ignorance often treads heavily on enlightenment.

One day Nasarudin climbed onto King Harun’s throne. The courtiers rushed to the Fool, and with sticks and stones made him leave the royal seat.

Nasarudin turned to Harun: “I sat on this chair for one minute and suffered so much. Pity those who sit here all their life.”

Another day the King read a poem he had composed and asked for Nasarudin’s opinion. “I don’t like it,” said the Mulla.

The king became angry and ordered Nasarudin to be put in prison.

The following week the King summoned Nasarudin and read him another poem. “What do you think of this one?” he asked.

Nasarudin got to his feet.

“Where are you going?” asked the King.

“To the prison,” answered Nasarudin.

I really cannot profess to know much about the specific and esoteric religious techniques of the Sufis. Forgive me if I seem to present here an inordinately narrow and oversimplified view of this rich practice. Other than a number of experiences with the Sufi-inspired Dances of Universal Peace, I have never been on the inside of anything Sufi. I have eagerly read Rumi and other Sufi poets, and have tried to research their history, their philosophy and their place in Islam. But they are intentionally vague and paradoxical, because each student must be on the mystical path for themselves, to discover anew the teachings that will serve them. This makes summary and description somewhat difficult (not unlike with Unitarian Universalism).

Suffice it to say that they have elaborate spiritual disciplines for emptying the self so as to achieve union with God. Chanting, meditation, prayer, dancing and other very intense methods are used, very seriously. You have likely heard of the Whirling Dervishes, who are an order of Sufis. (Dervish is a Persian word meaning beggar.)

One of the greatest of Sufi writers, who lived a generation before Rumi, was Farad al-Din Attar. (His comment on absurdity challenges the top of your order of service.) Attar used the wise-fool extensively in his poetic tales, and believed that:

“Lovers of the Truth find the light only if, like the candle, they are their own fuel, consuming themselves.”

This reminds me that we can only respond to our times with the substance of our lives. We offer of ourselves and are consumed, and in that activity we hope to reach a level of Truth, always self-described.

Another classical author makes a simple yet poignant connection:

“When I see the poor dervish unfed, my own food is pain and poison to me.”

This is the thought of one steeped in interdependent awareness. The Sufis speak of holistic medicine, too. Hakim Jami, a poet and dervish from 15th century Persia and Afghanistan, tells this story:

A Poet went to see a doctor. He said to him: “I have all kinds of terrible symptoms. I am unhappy and uncomfortable, my hair and my arms and legs are as if tortured.”

The doctor answered: “Is it not true that you have not yet given out your latest poetic composition?”

“That is true,” said the poet.

“Very well,” said the physician, “be good enough to recite.”

He did so, and, at the doctor’s orders, said his lines again and again. Then the doctor said: “Stand up, for you are now cured. What you had inside had affected your outside. Now that it is released, you are well again.”

Jami was a genius and had many people wanting to attach themselves to him. But, again, this was unacceptable. “Seekers there are in plenty,” he would say. “But they are almost all seekers of personal advantage. I can find so few seekers after Truth.” He was also fond of pointing out that those who tried to overcome pride were likely doing so because they could then inflate themselves with such a victory.

No, Sufism demands a perplexingly simple approach. It is an intimate resting in paradox, an active stance which requires patience, self-understanding and a good teacher-a teacher to help one learn how meaning is often elusive, below the surface, behind the obvious words, awaiting exploration. Meaning is often elusive. Sufis seem to revel in this truism, as if embracing it were the next step toward union with the Divine Paradox.

Nasarudin was the guest of a distant relative, who put him up in the basement where there was a bed. In the middle of the night, the host was awakened to the sound of his visitor’s laughter coming from upstairs.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “You were supposed to be sleeping in the basement.”

“I was,” answered Nasarudin. “I rolled off my bed.”

“And how did you fall upstairs?”

“That’s what I am laughing at.”

Another time a thief visited Nasarudin’s house and left with half of his belongings. Nasarudin picked up the rest of his belongings and set out after the thief.

“What are you up to?” the thief inquired when he saw Nasarudin following him in the street.

“Nothing,” answered the Mulla. “For quite a long time I have been thinking about moving to a better place. Now that you are so kind as to carry half my belongings I am taking the rest and moving in with you. My wife and family will join tomorrow morning.”

“Here,” said the thief, putting down his loot. “Please take them back, but let me go.”

There is no definite “How-to-be-a-Sufi” method. That may in fact be its most distinctive religious feature, given the rigid formulations so eagerly offered by many other paths. Therein may also lie its intrigue for me. I am drawn to honest process, especially if it engages humor.

Mulla Nasarudin may even get the last laugh. If you visit his tomb you’ll find it behind an iron gate ably secured by a large padlock. But do not turn away in disappointment, for that front gate is all there is; there are no side walls around the tomb.

In a related vein, these words on Rumi’s epitaph work well as a closing sentiment:

“When we are dead, seek not our tomb in the earth, but in human hearts.”

Bibliography:
Farzan, Massud. Another Way of Laughter: A Collection of Sufi Humor. E.P. Dutton, NY. 1973.

Waley, M.I. Sufism: The Alchemy of the Heart. Labyrinth Publishing, Ltd., UK. 1993.

Barks, Coleman, trans. The Essential Rumi. Harper Collins, SF. 1995

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 Inimitable Mulla Nasrudin –  Idries Shah

முல்லா கதைகள் – தமிழில்: ஷஃபி