a short Tale on a Prophet´s Power

A mullah and his student travel through the white snowy countryside. Finally, tired from the days walk and talk, they rent a room in the caravanserai of a nearby village. The freezing air makes it hard to sleep, so finally the student continues his week-long attempts to convince his master that he should claim the rank of prophethood:

‘Great are you. My knowledge is but a sapling in the forests of your knowledge’
‘Yes’, the mullah answers patiently.

After a length of silence the student continues:
‘You have gloriously dominated discussions with the most erudite clergy of this country.’
‘Yes I have.’

More time passes and the teacher asks his student to bring him a glass of water. The student hesitates and wanting to avoid leaving his warm bed in the cold ignores his master’s request and continues the discussion:
‘Your wise words have shown hundreds of lost souls the path to spiritual truth.’
‘Yes they have’, the mullah answers again.

In his mind having successfully mapped out his argument, he then asks:
‘If all this is so, will you not proclaim that you yourself are a Prophet?’
‘Busy not yourself with such thoughts.’ is the masters blunt answer.

As they wake to perform their ablutions for the morning namaz, the mullah urges the student: ‘Get up! Get up! I have an answer to your questions. Do you see the muezzin walking on the road? Every day, before sunrise he gets out of his cosy bed, washes himself, walks across the village in the ice-cold snow to the Mosque, climbs a tall tower and raises a call to prayer, only because a man six hundred years ago has said to do so. You are my most intimate student, all you have learned, you have learned from me. Yet, you refused to even get me glass of water. Will you see now how insignificant I am in the world compared to the power and influence of the True Prophets?‘