The Wise Mullah Nasruddin
and his Ass
One stifling afternoon, the mullah’s students were waiting for him on a Qom street corner not far from his home. Some minutes before Nasruddin came into view, the students could estimate his arrival by the honking crescendo of the rush hour horns. When he finally did appear, he was one with his dodging donkey, avoiding coals hurled at him by a shrieking corn vendor whose grate his donkey had overturned.
Upon reaching the oasis of the corner, Nasruddin wiped the sweat off his brow and only then acknowledged those gathered around him.
“Teacher,” a student asked, ” why don’t you catch a taxi or ride a bus?”
Nasruddin, smiling at the innocence of his pupil, replied quietly, “If I am troubled about whether my turban leans to the right or the left, I can blame it on the irreverence of my ass.”