This Reminds Me Of A Story

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