An arm’s length

Being a public man is an art of the harlot. With one hand you lure the crowd, with another you shun it defending your privacy. This reminds me of a story:

One day the Imam visited Nasreddin, in all discretion to ask his counsel.

“Dear Hodja, “he said, “you are seasoned in the art of giving advice. Like you, and even more, I am submerged with all these petty believers who come, everyday, from morning to dusk, to solicit my counsel and direction in worldly matters: One wants this. Another wants that. The third wants this and that. The fourth wants this but not that. It never ends. I need time for meditation and prayer. I can’t take it any more! I am tired. But I cannot reject them. Do you have one of your good pieces of advice to give to a fellow adviser?”

The Hodja pondered for a while and found.

“I have a way out for you, it comes from your fellow, the rabbi. Do the following: If the ones coming to see you are poor, lend them a little money. You will not see them any more. If they are rich, ask them to give you money. They will disappear, all the same.”