It happened once upon a time that Mullah Nasruddin became the target of a young boy’s game. Every day, when Nasruddin was seated in his usual spot in the local tea house, the boy would suddenly peek round the door, steal quietly in, creep up behind Nasruddin and knock his turban forward over his nose. Then, laughing gleefully, the boy would run away.

This went on day after day. The other customers of the tea house said to Nasruddin, “Why don’t you scold this boy? He must be taught to behave.”

“Yes,” Nasruddin agreed, “he must be taught. But I am waiting for the right time. There is a right time for everything.”

Meanwhile the boy went on amusing himself.

Then one day, when Nasruddin entered the tea house, he saw that his usual place was taken by a stranger. A rough-looking soldier in uniform, with shoulders as broad as an ox, was sitting there. Naturally, Nasruddin said nothing and took another seat.

Shortly, the door opened, the mischievous boy slid in, ran up behind the figure in Nasruddin’s place, and knocked the soldier’s cap down over his nose.

Quick as lightning, the soldier whirled round, grabbed the startled boy, lifted him off the floor by his collar, and roared abuse into the terrified face. Then with a final shake he sent the boy flying out the door of the tea house.

“You see,” Nasruddin said to his friends, “THAT was the right time to scold him. There is a right time for everything.”