"The Donkey and the Judge" is a tale from India.

Once upon a time, a poor man who made his living washing clothes was leading his donkey through the village. As he passed by a school, he overheard the mullah, the teacher, speaking angrily to his students.

"I'll teach you donkeys," the mullah thundered. "By the time I'm finished with all of you, you shall be men."

Now the washerman looked into his donkey's eyes, and he began to imagine how wonderful it might be to have a true son instead of this creature. If only he could send his donkey to school. He could not resist the mullah's promise, and so he knocked upon the door.

"Sir," he said to the teacher, "I wish to enroll my donkey in your school. I would very much like you to turn him into a young man in both form and nature."

Hearing this the mullah smiled. "I would be glad to help you, my good man," he said, "but teaching donkeys is hard work. It would cost you a great deal of money."

"I will pay you all I have," said the washerman, and he pulled from his bag his life savings, 100 rupees.

The mullah was a greedy man, and 100 rupees was better than nothing, so he took the money. Then he instructed the washerman to return to fetch his son on the third Thursday of the seventh month. "That is when your donkey shall be a young man."

The washerman raced home to tell his wife the good news. She too was overjoyed at the thought. But one month later, the couple became impatient.

"Go see what has happened so far," the washerman's wife said. So the washerman again knocked on the mullah's door. "Is my son ready yet?" he asked.

"Come on the date I told you," the mullah scolded.

"But tell me, please," the washerman pleaded, "how is my boy doing in your school?" His eyes gleamed with hope.

"He is learning slowly," said the teacher. "His ears and tail are growing shorter, but I still have much work to do."

Time passed, and again the washerman could not resist, and soon he was appearing at the mullah's door each Thursday afternoon, begging for news of his son. The mullah became more and more irritated, and he decided he must teach the man a lesson once and for all.

And so, on the third Thursday of the seventh month, the day the washerman was to appear at the school to pick up his son, the mullah sent dozens of customers to the washerman's shop, and so the washerman did not reach the school that day.

The next day he hurried to the school. "My humble apologies," he said to the mullah. "I was unable to come yesterday, but I am here to fetch my son."

The mullah frowned. "Your son quit school," he said. "He ran away last week."

The poor washerman's eyes filled with tears.

"There is good news, though," the mullah said. "Your son has gone to Kanpur and there he has become the cadi, the judge."

Now the washerman pondered this notion; he was very sad not to find his son where he had left him, but he was pleased to hear his son had become a judge. Still, he wished to see the lad, and so he thanked the mullah for his trouble and rushed home to tell his wife the news.

They packed a bag of hay and their son's bridle — the better, said the wife, to help him recognize his true parents. Then they set off for Kanpur.

When they reached the city and found the courthouse, they entered the courtyard. Before them were the court officers in their finest clothing. The poor old man and woman had to wait in line behind dozens of complainants who awaited the cadi's judgments.

They stood in the crowded courtyard for hours, and at last the washerman lost his patience. "Khoor, khoor!" he cried, for these were the words he had used to call his donkey. He shook the bridle and tossed hay into the air. "Come, my son."

When the cadi heard these words, he was insulted. He ordered his guards to arrest the man for disturbing the peace.

But that evening, the cadi thought again of the man who had disrupted his court. "He is only a madman," the cadi said to his wife. "He should not be imprisoned."

The cadi visited the washerman in his cell and asked, "Why did you make those terrible sounds in court?"

"You don't seem to know me, sir," said the washerman sadly. "How could you forget that it was my money that taught you how to be a man?"

The cadi wanted to reach the bottom of this strange business, and he listened to the washerman's tale of the mullah who promised to transform his donkey into a man.

The cadi sent for the mullah, and after he had listened to the whole tale, he understood what had happened. He gave the poor washerman 100 rupees and paid his way home. And as for the greedy mullah? The cadi made him pay back the 100 rupees and return the washerman's donkey. They say he never again stole from fools.