Mullah Nasruddin and the Empty Boat Lesson.

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One evening, Mullah Nasruddin sat at the teahouse, sipping his tea, when a young man approached him, looking rather troubled.

“Mullah,” the young man sighed, “people are so difficult! My friend keeps criticizing me, always telling me how I should behave. Another friend never shows up on time, and someone else speaks over me constantly. And then—worst of all—someone I trusted just disappeared from my life without a word! I feel so wronged, so disrespected! Why do people behave this way?”

Mullah took a long sip of his tea, smacked his lips in satisfaction, and then leaned forward. “Let me tell you a story,” he said.

“Once, a man was rowing his boat across a river when, suddenly, another boat crashed into his. Furious, he stood up, ready to shout at the fool who wasn’t looking where he was going. But when he looked closer, he saw the boat was empty! No one to blame, no one to scold—just an empty boat drifting with the current. So, tell me, young man, what should he do?”

The young man frowned. “Well… nothing, I suppose. If there’s no one to blame, what’s the point of getting angry?”

Mullah grinned. “Exactly! And what if I told you that all these people in your life—the ones who annoy you, who frustrate you, who disappear—are just like that empty boat?”

The young man blinked. “You mean… they don’t matter?”

“Oh, they matter,” Mullah said, “but not in the way you think. Take your friend who criticizes you—maybe they are not here to control you but to show you an old wound you haven’t healed. Perhaps instead of arguing, you should ask yourself: Why does this hurt me so much?”

The young man nodded slowly.

“And the friend who always arrives late,” Mullah continued, “maybe they are like a mischievous teacher, reminding you that time cannot be controlled, that expectations should be flexible. Instead of fuming, maybe it’s about learning to honor your own time.”

The young man scratched his head. “And the one who speaks over me?”

“Ah,” Mullah said, stroking his beard. “That is a test in disguise! Instead of fuming, you could ask, How do I make myself heard? Maybe the lesson is not about stopping them but about finding your own voice.”

The young man thought for a moment. “But what about the one who ghosted me?” His voice grew bitter. “That one really hurt.”

Mullah chuckled. “Ah, my friend, sometimes Allah removes people from our path not as punishment, but as protection. Instead of asking, Why did they leave? ask, Why did I stay so long? Maybe you were holding on to something that wasn’t meant for you.”

The young man sat in silence, taking it all in.

Mullah clapped him on the back. “So, the next time life crashes into you like an empty boat, remember—don’t waste your breath shouting at it. Instead, watch where the current is taking you.”

And with that, Mullah Nasruddin picked up his tea, took another satisfied sip, and left the young man sitting there—still troubled, but perhaps just a little wiser.