Short Story: The Mullah Nasruddin goes astray. He takes up with a lover.

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The Mullah Nasruddin's father-in-law had been living with the Mullah, and his wife, for several years now, since he, the father-in-law's, own wife had died, and because of his being old, and feeble, his daughter had brought him to under their roof. The old man had just had his ninetieth birthday, and he had not been feeling very well of late. He was having frequent dizzy spells. His legs were becoming numb at times, and at other times, they had feelings of pins and needles in them, and they seemed to be very weak, to walk on. He was having problems with his knees, and muscle spasms in his hips, and large thigh muscles too. He was a sorry case, to behold. The Doctor had told the Mullah's wife that he needed continual monitoring, as his mind was starting to go too. He would wander around, creeping around, always with a blank lost expression on his face. He didn't know if he was Arthur, or Martha. The wife was swift to act. She moved the Mullah out of their bedroom. She pushed him into the guest-room, where the father-in-law had been. She had done this, she claimed, because their own bedroom was a very large one, and there was room in it, for her to set up a small portable single bed in it too. The old man was put in their huge king-size bed, and she bunked down on the portable one beside him. The Mullah was greatly upset by this new sleeping arrangement. For one thing, he never wanted to sleep in the old man's previous bed. He would need to get the whole room and bed thoroughly fumigated, for one thing, and for another, he would even need a new mattress, he thought too. The old guy had a weak bladder, and he had had more than just a few "accidents" in this bed. It wreaked of the smell of urine. The Mullah made a bold move himself then too. He set up a bed in his stable, and he slept in the outdoor stable, next to his beloved donkeys, who gave him far less trouble than did his wife, and his father-in-law, always did. This sleeping outside went on for months, and months, and it looked like that the arrangement would go on for as long as the old chappy kept living. One day, though, the morning came around, and the Mullah's wife was looking for her husband, but she found that both the favourite donkey of her husband, and her husband had upped it, and left, in the middle of the night. The Mullah was heard of, in a few months time, as rumours spread up, about a Holy man, in a distanced village, having taken up with an estranged man, a former teacher of his. It seemed that the Mullah had more skeletons in his closet than what was ever known of him, and now another one had escaped from his vast closet now too. The Mullah was gay, and the episode at home had brought this side of him out of himself now to the fore. If this had become known in his own hometown, he would have been hastily driven out of his village anyway. The Mullah had left town with his donkey, his dog, his cat, and his favourite chicken, all on board with him too. He had given up a great deal, as his family mansion, had been in his family for many years, perhaps centuries, and it was worth a great deal, plus his esteemed position as a great Holy man, now had holes in it too. Let's hope that he is finally happy now. He had sadly lost all contact with his happiness, for the past few years, of having to live with his old codgery, mean-spirited, cunning, old father-in-law. Photo Credit: The photo used in this article was sourced from the free media site, pixabay.com (The Mullah left home with this entourage of his friends with him. See picture)