Bahlool and the Price of a Smell

Bahlool and the Price of a Smell

Old Baghdad was a city of many sights and even more smells. On a particularly hot and dusty afternoon, a poor Arab beggar arrived in the city after a long journey across the desert. He was tired, his clothes were covered in sand, and his stomach was growling with hunger. However, his pockets were completely empty. He didn't have a single coin to buy even the smallest piece of fruit.

As he walked through the narrow, winding streets of the marketplace, he passed by a local bakery. The smell was incredible. The baker was busy pulling fresh, hot loaves of bread out of a deep clay oven. There were also pots of stew and spiced meats simmering nearby, sending thick clouds of delicious-smelling steam into the air.

The beggar stopped and took a deep breath. He reached into his tattered bag and pulled out a piece of bread that was so old and stale it was as hard as a rock. He knew he couldn't eat it as it was, but then he had a clever idea. He walked over to the side of the bakery where the hot steam was pouring out of a vent. He held his hard bread right in the path of the steam, letting the moisture soak into the crust. After a few minutes, the bread became soft and warm. He sat down nearby and ate his meal, enjoying the borrowed flavor of the expensive spices that had traveled through the air.

The baker, however, had been watching the whole thing from behind his counter. He was a greedy man who hated the idea of anyone getting something for free. Even though the steam was just going to waste in the wind, he felt that the beggar had "stolen" something from him. As the beggar finished his meal and stood up to leave, the baker rushed out and grabbed him by the arm.

"Hold on a minute!" the baker shouted. "Where is my money?"

The beggar was confused. "Money? For what? I didn't buy anything from you. I brought my own bread from home."

"You used my steam!" the baker yelled, his face turning red. "That steam comes from my expensive ingredients and my firewood. You used it to flavor your food, and now you have to pay for it."

A crowd began to gather, as people loved to watch an argument in the marketplace. The beggar tried to explain that steam has no price, but the baker wouldn't let go. Just then, Bahlool happened to be walking by. Everyone in Baghdad knew Bahlool—some thought he was a madman, but others knew he was the wisest person in the city. Seeing the commotion, the Arab beggar turned to Bahlool and asked him to settle the dispute.

Bahlool listened patiently to both sides. He looked at the angry baker and then at the frightened beggar. "So," Bahlool said to the baker, "your complaint is that this man benefited from the smell and the steam of your food, is that right?"

"Exactly!" the baker replied, thinking he had finally found someone who agreed with him. "He didn't eat the meat, but he certainly enjoyed the benefit of it. He owes me for that."

Bahlool nodded slowly. "That seems fair," he said. The crowd whispered in surprise, wondering if Bahlool had finally lost his mind. Bahlool reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of silver coins. He held them close to the baker’s ear. Then, one by one, he dropped the coins onto a flat stone on the ground. Clink. Clink. Clink.

The baker’s eyes lit up. He reached down to pick up the money, but Bahlool was faster. He scooped up the coins and put them back into his pocket.

"What are you doing?" the baker snapped. "Give me the money!"

Bahlool smiled calmly. "I just did," he said. "The sound of those coins is your payment."

The baker was speechless. "What kind of payment is that? I can't buy anything with a sound!"

"And he couldn't fill his stomach with your steam," Bahlool replied, his voice getting serious. "A man who sells the smell of his food should be paid with the sound of money. My decision is final."

The crowd burst into laughter and cheers. The baker, feeling completely foolish and embarrassed, went back inside his shop without another word. The beggar thanked Bahlool and went on his way, and once again, Bahlool’s strange but perfect logic had brought justice to the streets of Baghdad.