Mulla Nasrudin had become a favourite of the King. He was a part of his inner circle and was always seen hanging around the king with the coterie of sycophants.
One day the King was exceptionally hungry.
Mulla Nasrudin rushed to the palace kitchen and saw some cooked brinjals.
Some brinjals had been so deliciously cooked and the king loved and relished them so much that he told the palace chief to serve brinjals every day.
“Are brinjals not the best vegetables in the world, Mulla?” the asked Nasrudin.
“The very best, your Majesty. The brinjal is the tastiest vegetable in the world,” Nasrudin said, in total agreement with the king, “I will tell the palace cook to serve brinjals every day.”
Five days later, when the brinjals had been served for the tenth meal in succession, the King who by now was fed up of eating brinjals roared in anger: “Take these brinjals away! They taste terrible! I hate them! ”
“Absolutely right, your Majesty, brinjals are the worst vegetables in the world,” agreed Nasrudin.
“But Nasrudin, less than a week ago you said that brinjals were the very best vegetables in the world,” asked the bemused king.
“I did, your Majesty. But I am the servant of the King, not of the vegetable,” replied Mulla Nasrudin meekly.