بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ
Never belittle or judge people
There was this old gentleman, in ordinary clothes, queuing up for security check at the gates of the banquet hall. On clearing the metal detector and the physical search, he entered the banquet hall said “As-salaamu Alayikum wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatuh ”. He had yet to reach the Mercy of Allah (“Rahmatullah”) in his utterance, he was surrounded by the guards and the Assistant Banquet Manager (ABM), who, not impressed by his attire, told the gentleman:“This is a closed event. Are you aware that you cannot enter the banquet hall, unless invited?”
“Oh, but I am….. Invited, I mean”, he said calmly.
“Yeah sure, but the banquet is reserved for distinguished guests only, so may I please see your invitation?” they said, not believing him. After all, how come someone with such poor attire be a guest at the Sultan's banquet.
“Actually, I am not carrying it with me,” he replied confidently.
“So you are a distinguished guest?” the the ABM asked.
“Well, no,” replied the old man.
“Then you must be more than that, a diplomat perhaps?” asked the ABM he said, in a ridiculing tone.
“No, not really”, said the old man.
“So you are a minister, perhaps?”
“No, not that too”.
"Oho! So you must be the Sultan himself, sir," said the ABM sarcastically, obviously running low on his patience reserves.
“No, I am sure I am not the Sultan!”
“Hmm? So you must be higher than the Sultan? But wait, nobody is higher than the Sultan in this land! Get rid of this beggar” so saying he signaled to the guards to get rid of him.
“Now you have it,” he exclaimed, and everyone froze, “I am ‘Nobody!’” he continued. Before anyone could make sense of what he had said, sounds of commotion were heard near the main gates, indicating the arrival of the Sultan. Everyone ran to their respective positions, and the gentleman shrugged his shoulders and proceeded towards the exit.
Several hours later, a vaguely familiar guest was behaving rather strangely, dipping his cuffs in the punch-bowl. As if that was not weird enough, he started ladling custard down the front of his rather dazzling brocade coat (with ivory buttons and semi-precious stones lining the epaulets). Not only that, he put his turban on the banquet table and applied caviar on to it.
The head-waiter rushed towards him, as if with the intent of offering him a juice or something to calm him down. Suddenly in one swift, unexpected motion he picked and threw the bottle across the hallway, smashing it to smithereens. A hushed silence pervaded across the banquet table, as the attention of the Sultan was drawn to him. We did not know what to expect, when the gentleman uttered:
“Apparently the juice has taught the bottle to fly, but it has yet to teach it the the art of landing properly.” Then addressing his coat and turban, he said “Thanks to Allah, you have had your fill.”
So saying the merry gentleman, covered in all sorts of delicious sweetmeats excused himself from the table, when the Sultan addressed him, much to the surprise of all and sundry.
“O Noble and August Shaykh Nasruddin, did anything displease you?”, asked the Sultan, with utmost respect.
“No,” replied the gentleman, who, it seems was Nasruddin Hodja.
“No, not at all, I was just feeding these robes of brocade for what is their right,” said he, rather nonchalantly.
At this point, the Sultan asked “What could be the meaning of this, O Master of Masters?”
He replied, “The banquet invitation was meant for these robes, for they were welcome here, and not I, when I came a while back without them”.
So saying, he took leave and left.
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