Tell Me a Story: HODJA'S CANDLE

 Once long ago in the village of Ashkehir, the people grumbled and complained, for winter had set in and the weather was bitterly cold.

Nasreddin Hodja and his friends gathered in a cafe, talking of the weather.

Hodja suddenly sat up and raised his hands. "My friends," he announced, "you may think this is a cold winter, but this is nothing for a man like me. When I was a boy, I broke the ice in the river and took a swim. I walked across icy fields in bare feet. There's nothing like a little cold to strengthen a man! It has made me strong and bold, in fact."

The others laughed and winked and nudged each other, for they were accustomed to Hodja's tall tales. "Well, then, Hodja," one of his friends said, "since you like the cold, why don't you stay outside all night long tonight without a coat or a blanket or anything to warm yourself? In that way, you can prove to us how strong you are and how little the cold bothers you."

"That would be nothing," Hodja bragged.

"No fire to warm yourself," another said.

"Of course not," Hodja said.

"No hot tea or warm sweaters," another wagged his finger.

"Not a problem," Hodja smiled.

"We'll make a bargain, then," Hodja's best friend remarked. "You stay outside tonight with nothing to warm you, and if you make it through the night, we'll treat you to a feast. But if you need something to keep yourself warm, you will entertain all of us for supper."

And so that evening his friends gathered inside a warm house and watched as Hodja stood outside, pacing up and down the village square.

Hodja looked up at the stars and contented himself for a while with the beauty of the clear winter sky. After a few hours, he began to shiver and shake so hard that he cursed his pride. "If only I had not been so hasty," he said to himself. He paced this way and that, wondering how he would survive the night.

Then Hodja saw a candle in a window across the way. He walked closer, and as he watched, he could feel the glow of the candle warming his blood. The sight of warmth helped to remind him of what warmth felt like, and so he stayed where he was. All night long he stared at that candle, imagining himself hot and unwavering, just like that flame. That is how he survived the night.

At dawn Hodja's friends ran out into the frosty air and stared in wonder. Hodja stood there, smiling and calm.

"Hodja, you have survived!" they shouted in disbelief.

"Of course," Hodja said.

"And did you use nothing at all to warm yourself?" they asked.

"Nothing," he said, "unless you can call the glow of a candle a hundred yards away a means of keeping warm. I watched a candle burning in that window, and that helped me to endure the bite of the winter wind."

"Aha!" his friends cried. "You warmed yourself by that candle, so you did not keep your bargain!"

The group arrived early and sat on bolsters in Hodja's living room, waiting for their fine supper. They sniffed the air, hoping to guess what their friend was preparing. A half-hour passed, an hour, and another.

Hodja rose several times, excusing himself to go into the kitchen to supervise the meal. But when the third hour passed, the men began to complain. "What, dear friend, is the delay?" they asked.

"Come and see for yourselves," Hodja replied.

The men stared in amazement at the sight of a large pot suspended from the ceiling. One foot below the pot burned a single candle.

"Hodja!" the men exclaimed. "Surely you do not expect one tiny candle to cook such an enormous pot, do you?"

"If a candle a hundred yards from me behind a window can keep me warm all night long, a candle a foot away can heat a pot," he said.