Once at a crossroad, Nasreddin Hodja saw a portly nobleman riding towards him.
“I say, Hodja,” said the man. “Which is the way to the palace?”
“How did you know I was a Hodja?” asked Hodja.
The nobleman had a habit of addressing every scholarly-looking man as “Hodja,” which was a title given to learned men and meant “master” but he didn’t want to tell Hodja that.
“How did I know?” he bragged. “Well, I’m a mind-reader, that’s how.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Hodja. “As to your question, read my mind and proceed.”
