One poor man was driven to extremes by need, and he became a porter. Once he heard that there are not enough porters in Istanbul and they earn good money. The poor man decided to move to Istanbul, settled there and tirelessly carried heavy loads. He was paid generously for his services, and he accumulated one hundred ducats.
The porter began to think: “In my homeland, I can certainly start a trade with a hundred ducats. Why bother carrying heavy loads, if you can live easier? I’ll just earn enough for my return journey, and for now I’ll give the money that I’ve saved up to some respectable person for safekeeping.”
For a long time the porter looked for a suitable person and finally noticed the old Khoja, the owner of a rich shop.
“This is a reliable man,” thought the porter. “You can leave money in such hands.” I thought and entered the shop. And the owner asks:
- What do you need?
The porter asked the Khoja to take one hundred ducats for safekeeping until his departure:
“I got the money through hard work, but to keep it I’ll pay what I’m supposed to.”
Hoxha willingly agreed to accept the money, saying that he would not take a penny for storage, and also added that many people trusted him with their money. The porter took one hundred ducats out of his pocket and gave them to the Khoja, and he himself went to earn money for the return journey.
And for some time he carried a heavy load around Istanbul and saved up some money. Now he had more than enough for travel expenses. Then he went to the Khoja for his money. He entered the shop, said hello and asked for a hundred ducats back.
- What other hundred ducats? - the hodja attacked him and, cursing him in every way, pushed him out.
The porter became sad, wandered away and stopped thoughtfully at the corner of the street. A certain lady noticed him from the window and sent a maid to fetch him. The maid called him to her khanum. The porter thought that he would be sent to carry something, and went after the maid. He comes, and the khanum says to him:
“It seemed to me that you were upset about something, so I decided to find out what happened to you?”
The porter got angry.
“Get off me, woman, with your questions, you won’t help me anyway!”
“And maybe I’ll help.” Just explain to me what's the matter.
The porter told the khanum everything in order: how he came to Istanbul, how he gave the ducats to the Khoja for safekeeping and what came of it. The woman listened to the porter and said:
“It’s very easy to help your grief!” I can guess what kind of person we are talking about. Wait a little, I’ll get dressed now, and we’ll go outside together. You will go ahead, and I will follow you. As soon as you see the Khoja's shop, point your finger at it, I will go in there, and a little later - you follow me and ask for the hundred ducats back. You'll see, the Hodja will give you your money right away.
The lady got dressed and they went as agreed. We approached the shop, the porter gave a sign and began to wait.
Khanum entered the shop and first of all greeted the owner.
- Selam alaikum! - Hodja answers her and hands her a chair. - If you please, khanum, sit down!
When the khanum took a break from the road, the Khoja asked what she wanted.
“I want to ask you for a favor,” the khanum replies, “just swear that you won’t say a word to anyone about our conversation.”
Khoja promised to keep the secret and assured that he would gladly do everything possible for the khanum.
“I was married to one eminent dignitary,” said the khanum. “My husband died and left behind him a lot of jewelry and money, only four or five thousand ducats.” But after his death, a multitude of heirs appeared. But I don’t want to share the inheritance with them, so I decided to ask you to hide the jewelry and money until the authorities make an inventory of my late husband’s property. I will pay you for storage, which is due when I come to take my things back.
Khoja understood everything from the first word and, having barely finished listening to the khanum, exclaimed that with great pleasure he would provide her with this service, and would not charge her anything for storage. Then a porter came into the shop and demanded his money.
“Right now, son,” says the Hodja. - How much did you give me?
- One hundred ducats! - answered the porter.
Khoja opened the chest and counted out one hundred ducats to the porter. The porter clenched his money in his fist and asked:
- How much do I owe you for storage?
But the Hodja did not take anything from him, and the porter left the shop with his money. Khanum, having promised to send money and jewelry with a maid, also left. Khoja, very pleased with the turn of affairs, waits and waits for the maid. He waited and waited, and there was no sign of the maid or jewelry. Noon passed, the hour of the third afternoon prayer passed, the Khoja realized that he had been deceived, and began to curse himself for why he gave the porter a hundred ducats.
“And I had to let go of the faithful hundred ducats.” And all because I coveted a bigger jackpot.
Khoja was so upset about the hundred ducats that out of anger, immediately after the hour of the third prayer, he closed the shop, which had never happened to him before, and instead of going to the mosque to pray to Allah, upset, he trudged home. And at home, he didn’t feel like himself and began rushing from corner to corner and throwing everything around. The wife saw that her husband was out of sorts and asked him:
- What’s wrong with you, why are you so angry?
Then Khoja told his wife about the khanum, about the porter and the ducats. The woman listened to her husband and said:
- In my opinion, the matter is easy to fix! Just promise that you won’t reproach me later, and tomorrow I’ll take the hundred ducats from the porter.
Khoja swore that he would not reproach his wife for anything, if only she would help out a hundred ducats.
In the morning, at first light, the Hodja went to the market square, and his wife followed him. Khoja saw the porter, showed him to his wife and hid aside; the woman, as if mad, flew up to the porter, threw herself on his neck and screamed:
- Here he is, my husband! Two years ago he left me with two sons in my arms, penniless!
—Where did I get a wife and children if I was never married? - exclaimed the porter.
But the woman did not let up and showered him with reproaches:
- Since you don’t want to support me, let’s divorce! Let's go to court before the qadi!
“I’m not your husband, so I can’t give you a divorce,” answered the porter. - You probably made a mistake?
- You are my husband! - the woman repeated. “I’ve been looking for you for God knows how long!”
The guards came running at the noise, tied up the porter and took him to the qadi. Kadiy asked the woman what she wanted from her husband.
“Dear effendi,” the Khoja’s wife begged, “let him support me and my children or give me a divorce!”
The qadi began to interrogate the porter. The poor porter, no matter how hard he tried, could not prove that he was not the husband of this woman. And the qadi ordered the deceiver to receive one hundred ducats in compensation from the porter, because, according to Muslim custom, the husband must pay his wife upon divorce. The porter resisted this way and that, making excuses that he had no money, but nothing helped. Meanwhile, the poor man actually left all his capital with the khanum. He begged the qadi to let him go to get the money. Kadiy assigned a guard to him and allowed him to leave the courtroom.
The porter comes to the khanum, and she asks him why he is sad again: the porter told her everything in order and admitted that he came for money - because he had to pay his imaginary wife in order to divorce her. The khanum listened to the porter and said to him:
“It’s all about Khoja’s wife being cunning, and her tricks will only benefit you.” Here's a hundred ducats for you, go pay the compensation, get a judicial letter from the qadi that the children are really yours, and then bring them to me.
The porter did everything as the khanum ordered: he paid one hundred ducats of compensation, received a letter, took the children and led them to the khanum.
The Khoja’s wife was already screaming and demanding that the porter leave her children alone. But the qadi declared that the porter had every right to do with them at his own discretion. The porter brought the children to the khanum, she fed them, and ordered the poor man to go pick up the children the next morning and take them to the herald so that he could sell them at auction.
Before Khoja’s wife had time to cross the threshold of her house, he was already running towards her:
- Well, did you get the ducats?
“I saved the ducats, but lost the children!”
The Hodja began to spin when he heard this news, but was no longer able to change anything.
And the porter came to the khanum at the appointed hour. She admonished him with these words:
“Take the children, take them to the market square and tell the herald to first appoint one hundred ducats for both boys.” And I will also come to the square and raise the price and will not give up the children to their father. When the time comes to stop trading, I will give you a sign.
The porter took the children, took them to the market square to the herald and ordered the boys to be sold at auction for one hundred ducats. The herald led the children around Istanbul, shouting the price as they went. Here he passes by the Hodja's shop. The father immediately recognized his children, jumped out into the street and shouted:
- I’m throwing in another ducat!
- One hundred and one ducats! - the herald shouted and turned back to the market square, where the khanum was waiting for him.
-Who allows themselves to make fun of their children? - she exclaimed. - I give you five hundred ducats!
The herald shouts out the price offered by the khanum and hurries to the Khoja’s shop.
- I’m throwing in another ducat! - the Khoja pilgrim interrupted him.
The herald shouted at the top of his voice:
- Five hundred and one ducats! - and walked towards the khanum.
- A thousand ducats! - she said.
The herald rushed to the shop to announce the last price, and the Khoja again added one ducat.
“These two boys are worth one thousand and one ducats!” - the herald shouted at the top of his lungs.
The khanum heard that the Khoja again added only one ducat, and this is how she answered him:
- One and a half thousand ducats!
- One and a half thousand ducats! - the herald responded, and his voice reached the Khoja’s ears, and as before, the father added one ducat. The herald announced:
- One thousand five hundred and one ducats!
“Who dares to mock little children?” - Khanum’s voice was heard again. - I give you two thousand ducats!
The herald shouted out the new price, and the old Khoja was amazed:
— Curious to know how long this rivalry will continue?
But you won’t give up on your children, and the Khoja raised the price by another ducat. The herald turned back, announcing the new price.
“Two thousand five hundred ducats,” shouted the khanum.
The herald announced its price and ran to the shop. The Khoja found out how the price had jumped and was horrified, but he could not give up on his children and again added one ducat.
Then the khanum called the porter to her and ordered the children to be given up to the one whose last word was. The porter said so to the herald, and he took the children to the hodja and, having received two and a half thousand and one ducat for them, handed the money to the porter. The porter went to the khanum, threw the money at her feet and said:
- That's all I have! Take the money for yourself, and give me one hundred ducats from it!
Khanum was surprised and said:
- The money belongs to you, I won’t take anything. Take the ducats and leave Istanbul immediately, otherwise you won’t get out of here alive.
The porter thanked the khanum from the bottom of his heart, immediately left for his homeland and lived there in contentment and happiness until his death.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru