Mullah Naseeruddin Kicks Ass!!

Net Worth

Mullah was passing by a small lake on the outskirts of a town while travelling cross-country with his dearest donkey. A motley crowd and some ones' cries of distress drew his attention. He rushed to investigate. A man bathing in the lake was in trouble and was shouting for help.

Strangely, the crowd was not only passive but seemed jaded about the whole affair. They looked at the man and at each other and sighed softly. Mullah’s frantic exhortations to help him only deepened their sighs.

It was a puzzling sight, like dumb charade but Mullah postponed the demystifying till after the rescue. He slipped out of his sherwani and dived in. And given his age, quite heroically rescued the drowning man, who was about as old as him.

Back on dry ground, the man approached Mullah and introduced himself as the local baniya (a trader) from a nearby village. He thanked him profusely for saving his life and rather ceremoniously offered him a penny as a mark of his gratitude.

The crowd which till now hung around like a heavy curtain cussed and swore unabashedly. ‘We knew it. We knew it.’ They boomed, ‘This guy is so cheap.’ A middle-aged man among them said, ‘I am not too proud of myself for having reservations about saving a drowning man but he really speaks to the worst in me.’

Pocketing the shiny penny Mullah wondered, ‘Well, who better to estimate his life’s worth, than the man himself?’

With a bemused air, he slipped into his sherwani, hopped-on to his dear donkey and moved on.

**

Give and Take

Mullah was travelling cross-country with his dearest donkey when he passed a small lake on the outskirts of a town. He noticed a man bathing in the lake wave to him rather excitedly.

His frantic pace confused Mullah but thinking it a local custom, he smiled, waved back and kept moving. About a minute later, he felt something was amiss and rushed back. Indeed, the man was in trouble and desperately seeking help.

Holding securely to safety chains at the bank, he lowered himself in the water and held out his hand. Just about an arm’s length away, looking squarely at him, the gentleman would not oblige. ‘What am I not doing right’, wondered Mullah. The man was gasping for air, minutes away from drowning but holding his arms close to his chest.

‘Hey, give me your hand’, barked Mullah only to be greeted by a sheepish grin and a shake of the head. It confounded him no end. 

‘I have stumbled upon a mysterious land’, he was beginning to slip into a reverie when a crisp cry from behind startled him a little, ‘Are Mullah, baniya hai baniya!’ (Hey Mullah, he's a baniya). It was as if a light bulb went off.

Composing himself, he locked eyes with the drowning man and improvised, ‘Hey, take my hand.’ The man lunged as his life indeed depended on it and Mullah pulled him out to safety.

**

Mullah and Kant

Mullah returned home one afternoon and barged in as usual. His son lounged in the living room making love to his new Playstation II; eyes boring into the screen.

He felt slighted. ‘No acknowledgment from my own son.’ A stab of exasperation accompanied an adrenalin spike. ‘You must stand up and greet when I enter, baap hain hum tumhaare’ (I am your Daddy), he blurted out.

The son’s outlook was more progressive however. He had read Renaissance literature in school and browsed through Kant in his father’s library; that no man should be a means to another.

‘It is your house. You’re welcome to walk in-and-out as you please. Ritualized manner serves no end. It is to be discarded.’ unruffled, he replied.

‘My turf, my rules and if you would not stand, I order you to stay sitting’, barked Mullah as he sneaked out relying on his absence to win the argument! J

**