This shall pass too…

It rains and then it stops… Everything has a beginning and an end. And as they say, when there is no more water in the pail, there is no more moon in the water. I know, our children cannot understand this soon enough to listen to their parents before they go. Tales go to sleep with their tellers, other, forever new people are needed to give them life, again. This reminds me of a story:

Well, the Mullah was growing old indeed.

People still giggled when he said funny things; but, they listened anyway, worried that he might have hidden some life-saving warning into strange words. It was well known after so many years that what he said was useful after all; they have learned in time that wise fools have ears to hear and eyes to see truth that comes from realms we, usual people, cannot understand. A world without such fools becomes blind.

His clay house by the old well, the house of "Nasr Ed din our beloved Hoca" looked lonely on the hillside, surrounded by aged fig trees unkempt but still heavy with sweet fruit. Strangely, the solitary house was rarely lonesome. Day in, day out, flocks of people came to seek counsel from the old jester of the kings. Because he never lied. What Hodja said, came about somehow. It always did.

Yes, the Mullah was growing old. In the evenings, as he was limping from the well, with a right foot that hurt, it happened more and more often that the bucket slipped out of his hand, the water spilled and lo, when there was no more water in the pail, there was no more moon in the water. Only his mind kept shining in the dark, as Allah had mercy on him.

One morning, some folks from Akşehir came to ask:

"Pray Hoca, is tomorrow the right day to marry Selim and Aisha?"

Nasrudin rose tall, leaned on his staff, looked for a while somewhere far away and said, with a clear, sad voice:

"There will be no tomorrow."

The visitors hastened away silent and frightened. Such bad news spread like husk in the wind:

"Nasr Ed din gave us terrible tidings: Tomorrow is the End of the World. Give up doing whatever you are about to do and pray. Prepare for the Last Day."

Moon over water by P. Klinger Flickr

When the next dawn broke people waited lost in dread.

…And nothing happened. Everything went on. As usual.

A puzzled crowd made its way to the door of the Hodja. How could he say what he said? They never got to the house though.

On the way, they discovered Nasreddin by the well, the bucket at his feet. He had died, the night before.

TO SEE THE 111 NASREDDIN STORIES CLICK HERE

Then, read the stories upwards; as many other things these stories are piled-up upside down, or better said, downside-up. Well, I am kidding. In fact I published them from first to last but the blogging logic believes that old posts are to be chased away by the new ones.