Eat, My Coat, Eat!

One evening a rich man in Mulla Nasruddin's town held a grand feast, and everyone was invited. Nasruddin had spent the whole day working in his garden. He was so hungry that he went straight to the feast in his old work clothes, with mud on his sleeves and a hole in his elbow.

At the door, the servants looked him up and down and frowned. Nobody greeted him. Nobody offered him a seat. He was pushed into a corner, and the dishes of rice and roast meat and sweets went past him again and again, to all the guests in fine clothes, and never once stopped in front of him.

So Nasruddin quietly slipped out, hurried home, washed his face and put on his best coat: a long, splendid coat of blue silk with golden buttons. Then he walked back to the feast.

This time, the servants bowed low at the door. The host himself came rushing up. “Welcome, welcome, honoured Mulla! Come and sit by me, in the best place!” Plates were piled high in front of him. Everyone smiled and waited for him to begin.

Nasruddin picked up a spoonful of soup and carefully poured it into the pocket of his coat. Then he put a piece of meat into the other pocket and pressed a sweet into the buttonhole.

“Eat, my coat,” he said kindly. “Eat, eat!”

The whole room went silent. The host stared at him. “Mulla, have you gone mad? Why are you feeding your coat?”

“Well,” said Nasruddin, wiping his spoon, “when I came here an hour ago in my old clothes, nobody gave me so much as a glass of water. Now I come back in this coat, and I am given the best seat and the best food. So it is clearly not me you invited. It is my coat. The least I can do is make sure it gets its dinner.”

The host went red to the tips of his ears. And from that day on, it is said, he greeted every guest at his door the same way, whatever they were wearing.