The Pot That Had a Baby

One day Mulla Nasruddin went to his neighbour, who was rather a mean man, and asked to borrow a big cooking pot. The neighbour grumbled, but he lent it.

A few days later Nasruddin brought the big pot back, and inside it was a little pot.

“What's this?” said the neighbour.

“Great news,” said Nasruddin. “While your pot was at my house, it had a baby. Here they both are. The little one belongs to you, of course.”

The neighbour thought this was nonsense. But he also thought it was a free pot. So he said, “Ah, yes, of course. Thank you, Mulla,” and he took them both inside very quickly before Nasruddin could change his mind.

A few weeks later, Nasruddin came to borrow the big pot again. This time the neighbour lent it gladly, and even smiled. Perhaps, he thought, it will have twins.

But days went by, and then weeks, and the pot did not come back. At last the neighbour knocked on Nasruddin's door. “Mulla, where is my pot?”

Nasruddin bowed his head and looked very sad. “I'm afraid I have terrible news,” he said. “Your pot has died.”

“Died?” shouted the neighbour. “What nonsense! A pot can't die!”

“That's strange,” said Nasruddin gently. “You were happy to believe that a pot could have a baby. Why can't you believe that it could die?”

The neighbour opened his mouth, and shut it again, and went home without a word. And whether he ever got his pot back, the story does not say.