The Singing Scoutmaster: Nasreddin Hodja and the Donkey's Shadow

One scorching summer afternoon, the sun blazed down relentlessly, casting harsh shadows across the land. Nasreddin Hodja, dressed in his simple robes and turban, decided to rent out his donkey to a merchant who needed to travel to the next town. "I'll pay a fair price for the donkey," the merchant said, counting out the coins. Nasreddin nodded and handed over the reins, walking alongside the merchant and his donkey as they set off down the dusty road.

The journey was long, and as the sun climbed higher in the sky, the heat became unbearable. The merchant, drenched in sweat and his face flushed with the heat, glanced around for a spot to rest. But there was no shade in sight—only the narrow shadow cast by the donkey. Sighing with exhaustion, the merchant decided to sit down in the donkey's shadow to catch his breath.

As he settled into the small patch of shade, Nasreddin Hodja stopped and cleared his throat. "Ah, my friend," he said with a thoughtful smile, "I'm afraid sitting there will cost you extra."

The merchant looked up, blinking in surprise. "What do you mean, Hodja?" he asked, frowning. "I've already paid to rent the donkey, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have paid to rent the donkey," Nasreddin agreed, nodding sagely. "But you haven't paid for the shadow. The shadow belongs to me." He pointed at the ground, his expression serious. "If you want to sit in the shadow, there will be an additional fee."

The merchant stared at Nasreddin in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process what he had just heard. "The shadow? The shadow is part of the donkey!" he sputtered, his voice rising in incredulity. "How can you separate the two? This makes no sense!"

Nasreddin shrugged casually. "No, no, my friend. You paid to rent the donkey for your journey. The donkey can carry your goods, it can transport you, but the shadow is not included in the rental. If you wish to use the shadow, you must pay extra." His eyes twinkled with mischief as he watched the merchant struggle to respond.

Anger and confusion flashed across the merchant's face. "That's ridiculous!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "I won't pay a single coin for a shadow! Shadows belong to no one!"

The argument quickly escalated, with both men shouting back and forth, their voices echoing across the empty road. Passersby from the nearby town, hearing the commotion, came out to see what was happening. "What's going on here?" one of them called out, his brows furrowed in confusion. A small crowd began to gather, curious about the strange dispute.

Nasreddin, never one to miss an opportunity for a good story, turned to the onlookers and explained the situation with a calm and patient tone. "You see, I rented out my donkey to this fine merchant," he said, gesturing to the man beside him, who was still fuming. "But when he decided to rest in the donkey's shadow, I asked him to pay for it separately. After all, I only rented him the donkey, not the shadow."

The townspeople stared at Nasreddin, then at the merchant, and then back at Nasreddin. A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd as the absurdity of the argument dawned on them. "Nasreddin Hodja, you never fail to surprise us!" one man chuckled, shaking his head. "Who could own a shadow? This is just like one of your jokes!"

But Nasreddin wasn't finished. He raised a hand, his expression turning serious for a moment. "Ah, friends, you may laugh, but think about it—don't people argue over things even less substantial than shadows? Over trivialities and things that hold no real value?" he asked softly. "Sometimes, we fight over things we can't truly own or keep, and yet we waste so much time and energy on them."

The crowd fell silent, considering Nasreddin's words. The merchant, who had been ready to continue the argument, paused and looked down at the donkey's shadow. Slowly, a sheepish smile spread across his face. "You're right, Hodja," he admitted with a sigh. "I let myself get carried away over something so silly."

Nasreddin smiled and reached out to shake the merchant's hand. "No harm done, my friend," he said warmly. "We all have moments like these. But it's important to remember that when we argue over shadows, we only end up with empty hands and wasted time."

The merchant nodded, and the crowd, understanding the deeper lesson behind the playful argument, began to applaud. They all laughed together, not at the foolishness of the argument, but at the wisdom hidden within it. Nasreddin, with his usual cleverness, had turned a simple dispute into a valuable lesson for everyone present.

The merchant, feeling both amused and humbled, agreed to let the matter go. "I won't argue over shadows again, Hodja," he promised, grinning. "You've taught me well."

Nasreddin patted the merchant's shoulder and let him sit in the donkey's shadow without any extra charge. As they continued their journey together, the merchant found himself smiling, his heart lighter and his mind clearer. From that day on, he never argued over trivial things, and whenever he felt tempted to engage in pointless disputes, he remembered Nasreddin's clever words about donkey shadows.

Back in town, the story of "Nasreddin Hodja and the Donkey's Shadow" spread quickly. People shared it around dinner tables and at the marketplace, laughing at the humor but also appreciating the lesson it carried. Whenever someone found themselves caught up in a meaningless argument, someone would say, "Don't fight over donkey shadows!" and the reminder would help them see the bigger picture.

And so, the tale became a cherished part of the town's folklore, a testament to Nasreddin Hodja's unique ability to find wisdom in the most unexpected places. He had shown, once again, that sometimes the simplest stories carry the greatest truths.