Afandi and the Cauldron Fairy Tale

Long ago, on the edge of the city of Bukhara, there lived a cheerful, quick-witted man called Khoja Afandi. He had no riches, but he had plenty of jokes and good sense. His neighbour was a rich man named Sapar, known as Sapar the Stingy. Sapar's house was full of pots and dishes, yet he would not give anyone so much as a cup of water.

One day Afandi's relatives were coming from far away to visit him. Afandi wanted to cook them a pilaf, but there was a problem: he had no big cauldron. So he had to go to his neighbour.

"Peace be with you, Sapar-aka! Please lend me your big cauldron for a day. I will bring it back tomorrow safe and sound," said Afandi. Sapar frowned and thought for a long time. "All right, but bring it back tomorrow. My cauldron is very valuable," he grumbled, and he handed it over reluctantly.

When the well-fed guests had gone home, Afandi went to the bazaar and bought a little copper jug. The next morning he polished the cauldron until it shone, put the little jug inside it and carried it to his neighbour.

Sapar saw the jug in the cauldron and was astonished. "Afandi, what is this?" "Good news, Sapar-aka! Last night your cauldron gave birth. Here is its baby, a little jug. Where the mother goes, the baby must go too," said Afandi with a serious face.

Sapar laughed to himself. "What a fool this Afandi is! He thinks cauldrons have babies." But out loud he said, "Yes, yes, of course. Thank heavens, my cauldron has had a child," and he happily clutched the jug to his chest.

A week went by. Afandi knocked on Sapar's door again. "Sapar-aka, please lend me your cauldron once more." This time Sapar did not hesitate for a moment and brought the cauldron out himself. "Take it, Afandi, take it. And watch it carefully this time too. Perhaps it will have another baby," he grinned.

One day passed, then two, then a whole week. But the cauldron did not come back. Sapar could not rest, and at night he lay awake. "Where is my cauldron? Perhaps it is having two jugs this time?"

At last Sapar could bear it no longer and went to Afandi himself. Afandi was sitting by his door in a black robe, sighing sadly. "Afandi, when are you going to return my cauldron?" asked Sapar.

Afandi sighed deeply. "Sapar-aka, I am afraid I have bad news. Please accept my sympathy... Your cauldron has died."

"What?!" shouted Sapar. "Have you lost your mind? Cauldrons don't die! Who would believe such nonsense?"

Then Afandi stood up and laughed. "Aka, you believed that the cauldron gave birth. You were glad to take the little jug. And everyone knows that whatever is born must one day die. If you believed in the birth, you must believe in the death too."

The neighbours who had gathered round roared with laughter. Sapar turned red, found nothing to say and went home. Later, of course, Afandi gave him back his cauldron. But from that day on, Sapar stopped being stingy and began helping his neighbours.

And ever since, people in Bukhara say: "Whoever believes in a gain must also accept a loss."