It happened once upon a time that Mullah Nasruddin acquired – don’t ask how – the reputation of being a highly skilled astrologer, capable of predicting the events of anyone’s life. His fame spread, and at last even reached the ears of the King. The Mullah was therefore summoned to court.

Nasruddin pinned a star to his turban, and went to the palace carrying an impressive assortment of charts and mathematical instruments.

“Tell me my future,” the King commanded.

Nasruddin peered at his charts, and began to describe a future filled with extraordinary achievements and innumerable blessings. As he continued, the King became more and more pleased, and gesturing to a minister, said, “Reward this man for his insight. He reads my life like an open book!”

The minister grudgingly presented Nasruddin with a purse of gold, but feeling jealous, he said, “Majesty, can you really trust a prediction that is so one-sided? He only tells you the good, but there must also be something else.”

“True,” said the King. “Mullah, what about the bad things?”

Always willing to oblige, Nasruddin began to describe a cascade of disasters – famines, floods, plagues, military defeats and worse. The King’s face darkened like a thunder cloud. Finally, he interrupted Nasruddin and said, “And do you see anything about the moment of your own death?”

Nasruddin stopped, stroked his beard thoughtfully, looked at a chart, and then said, “What a remarkable coincidence, sire. Our stars are linked, and it is decreed by heaven that I shall die just an hour before your worthy self!”