The Power of the Turban

A Persian resident of Aksehir received a letter from his relatives in Esfahan. Since he was illiterate, he brought the letter to Nasreddin Hodja to read for him. But the Hodja didn't know Persian.

`This is written in Persian,' he grumbled, `I can't read Persian!'

`Hodja Effendi, Hodja Effendi,' The Persian was very upset, `you are wearing a mountainous turban that signifies your learning, and you can't even read a letter?' Hodja considered for a moment and then took his turban off and handed it over to the Persian.

`Effendi, if it is the turban that does the trick, then be my guest, you wear it and you read the letter!'

Two Onion Stalks

Nasreddin Hodja planted two onion bulbs; one, he said, was for himself, and the other was for Allah. All the onions from Allah's stalk were to be given to the poor. Some time passed and the bulbs grew into two stalks. One day the Hodja went into his vegetable garden to pick two onions. He checked the stalk he had planted for himself, it had only empty, dried up bulbs. The one that was intended for Allah, however, was burgeoning with nice, large onions. He picked two onions from Allah's share. As he was shaking the soil off of the onions, an earth-shattering thunderbolt came down.

`Is all this fuss worth two onions?' the Hodja addressed the sky, `Here, I put them back, stop the racket!'

Interest

One day a friend asked Nasreddin Hodja to lend him some money.

`Hodja, I am a little hard up,' he said, `can you lend me some money with interest.'

`I don't have any cash,' the Hodja replied, `but I can lend you as much interest as you want.'

Donkey on Fire

One day the Hodja collected sprigs and twigs in the woods and tied them into a bundle. He was going to use them as fire wood in his home. After he finished loading his donkey, he started to doubt if these useless branches were going to burn well. He decided to try, just a tiny corner of the bundle on the donkey's back. But as soon as he lit the match, the sprigs caught fire and with the help of the blowing wind, the entire batch started to burn on the back of the poor donkey. The unfortunate animal, frightened, started to run away. Nasreddin Hodja, feeling terribly guilty, thought he should give the pitiable creature a little advice.

`If I were you,' he yelled from behind, `I would run towards the lake.'

Big Spoon vs Small Spoon

One day the Hodja and a couple of other people were invited for dinner to an acquaintance's home. It was a hot summer evening. The host brought to the table a large bowl of ice-cold cherry compote. He took a spoon as big as a ladle for himself and gave his guests small, dessert spoons.

`Let's dig in!' he said. But nobody could dig in as well as he could. The guests, with their small spoons, were not very successful in either enjoying the compote or quenching their thirsts. The host, on the other hand, was drinking the cold juice with his large spoon and after each spoon he was expressing his delight.

`Ahh, this is killing me!', he was saying, `Ahh, I must have died and went to heaven. Oh, this is so good, I am dying.' Nasreddin Hodja was not one to allow all the compote disappear before he had a chance to savour it.

`Effendi, why don't you give us that ladle so that we can die a little too!'