Once, when the month of Ramadan was approaching, and his cupboards were even more bare than usual, Mullah Nasruddin put on his turban and his scholarly robe, and travelled through all the region looking for work as a preacher.  But everywhere he went, in every village and mosque he could find, the answer was the same. ‘No, we don’t need you.’

Worn out and dusty from walking all over the province, and knowing he had nothing to eat at home, he was returning glumly to his village, when a group of men appeared in front of him, leading another man who was tied up with a big rope.

“Mullah,” said one of them, “we need your advice. This man is a shameless thief – we caught him red handed. Now we are trying to decide what his punishment should be. You are a learned scholar, you must know what to do.”

“Yes,” said Nasruddin, “I know what to do.”  Stepping forward, the Mullah placed his turban on the thief’s head and threw his robe around his shoulders.

“But Mullah – what are you doing?” asked one of the captors in astonishment.

“It is the worst punishment imaginable,” the Mullah said. “If he wears these, believe me, this man will starve to death!”