Nasreddin Hodja had borrowed a cauldron from his neighbour. When he didn't
return it for a long time, the neighbour came knocking on the door.
`Hodja Effendi, if you are finished with the cauldron could I take it back? The
wife needs it today.'
`Ah, of course,' Hodja said, `just wait here a minute and I'll fetch it.'
When Hodja came back to the door with the cauldron, the neighbour noticed that
there was a small pot in it.
`Well, neighbour, congratulations, your cauldron gave birth to a baby pot.' said
the Hodja.
The neighbour, incredulous, yet delighted, thanked the Hodja, took his cauldron
and the new little pot, and went home.
A few weeks after this incident, one day The Hodja came again, asking to borrow
the cauldron. The neighbour didn't even hesitate and lent Hodja the cauldron
with pleasure. However, once more it was taking the Hodja forever to return it
back. The neighbour had no choice but to go asking for it again.
`Hodja Effendi, are you done with the cauldron?'
`Ahh neighbour, ahh' bemoaned The Hodja, `I am afraid your cauldron is dead.'
`Hodja Effendi, that's not possible, a cauldron cannot die!' exclaimed the
disbelieving neighbour. But Nasreddin Hodja had his answer ready.
`My dear fellow, you can believe that it can give birth, why can't you believe
that it can also die?'