Kisah Sufi

It was late at night, and Nasruddin had spent the entire evening in a tavern, drinking and talking, talking and drinking. And drinking. By the time he decided to head home, he was quite intoxicated. As Nasruddin staggered through the streets, he ran into the night watchman. “Who’s that there?” asked the watchman. “What are you doing out at this late hour? Where did you come from? Where are you going?” “Those are all very important questions,” said Nasruddin, “very important indeed.” Then he smiled. “And if I knew the answers to your questions, I suppose I’d be home already.”