The Foolish Wisdom of Sheikh Chilli

In a quiet village nestled between green hills and golden fields, lived a man named Sheikh Chilli. He was known far and wide not for his cleverness, but for his unmatched ability to get into trouble—without even realizing it. His neighbors called him a daydreamer, and his mother often said, “My son’s head is in the clouds, but his feet never touch the ground.”

One fine morning, Sheikh Chilli set out to earn some money. “Mother,” he declared, “I am going to the city to become rich. Soon, we shall live in a grand palace with golden gates!”

His mother, used to such dreams, handed him a small pot of milk and said, “Sell this milk in the city. But please, don’t lose it in your dreams.”

Sheikh Chilli nodded and set off, cradling the pot carefully. As he walked, he began to imagine all the things he would do with the money from selling the milk.

“I’ll sell this milk and get coins. With those coins, I’ll buy some hens. The hens will lay eggs, the eggs will hatch into chicks, and the chicks will grow into more hens. Then I’ll have a whole flock! I’ll sell those hens and buy a goat. The goat will give milk, and I’ll sell that milk and buy a cow. Then I’ll buy a horse… no, a camel! Then a big house, and marry a princess!”

Caught in his fantasy, Sheikh Chilli smiled and imagined himself dressed in royal clothes, riding his camel through the village while everyone bowed to him. In his imaginary world, a servant tried to take his camel away, and Sheikh Chilli shouted, “No! This is my camel!”

With that loud yell, he flung his arms in the air—and dropped the pot of milk. It fell with a loud splash! spilling all over the dusty path.

He stared at the mess, his dream fading like a puff of smoke. The villagers nearby laughed, shaking their heads. “There goes another one of Sheikh Chilli’s fortunes,” one said.

Ashamed but not discouraged, Sheikh Chilli returned home. His mother sighed but didn’t scold him. “At least now you’ve learned not to dream while walking.”

“I have, Mother,” he said solemnly. “From now on, I’ll dream sitting down.”

Days passed, and Sheikh Chilli tried his hand at farming. A wealthy landlord offered him a job to guard a mango orchard. “Just make sure no one steals my mangoes,” the landlord said. “You’ll be paid every week.”

On his first day, Sheikh Chilli sat under a big mango tree, determined to do a good job. But as the sun warmed him, he started to feel sleepy. To keep himself awake, he talked to the mangoes.

“Don’t even think of jumping down before ripening! I have my eyes on you!”

He imagined himself saving the orchard from thieves, earning a reward, and becoming famous. “Soon, the king will hear of my bravery and invite me to the palace!”

Suddenly, a mango fell and bonked him on the head. Startled, Sheikh Chilli thought it was a thief’s weapon. He leapt up, waving a stick and shouting, “Stop, you thief! You can’t steal these mangoes!”

He ran around the tree, tripping over roots and stones, until he finally fell flat on his face. When the landlord came later that day, he found Sheikh Chilli bruised and babbling about invisible thieves.

“You fought a mango,” the landlord said, holding back laughter. “Perhaps guarding is not your calling.”

Still hopeful, Sheikh Chilli decided to start a school for children. “I shall teach them everything I know!” he announced.

“But what do you know, Sheikh Chilli?” asked his friend Karim.

“Well,” Sheikh Chilli said proudly, “I know not to sell milk while dreaming. And not to fight mangoes. That’s a lot!”

So he set up a small mat under a tree and invited the village children. On the first day, he told them a story about a lion who was afraid of mice, then explained why goats shouldn't wear shoes. The children laughed and clapped.

“Master Chilli,” one said, “you’re the funniest teacher ever!”

Though he wasn’t exactly teaching math or science, the children loved him. Parents began sending their kids to his “school” just so they could come home happy and full of stories.

Years passed, and Sheikh Chilli became a local legend. People came from far-off villages to hear his tales. He never became rich, but his laughter-filled lessons were worth more than gold.

And though he never owned a camel or married a princess, he walked proudly through his village with children trailing behind, shouting, “Tell us another story, Sheikh Chilli!”

He would smile and say, “Of course! But sit down first… so you don’t spill your milk.”