One afternoon, Dammad found Mammad standing in the courtyard, staring at Dadaş’s prized antique silver samovar, which was now missing its ornate handle. Dadaş felt the heat rising in his neck, his face turning a shade of pomegranate red.
Instead of exploding, Dadaş simply sat down, put his head in his hands, and laughed. "In the play, it’s a comedy," he whispered. "In my life, it’s a tragedy." Hicran Tamasasi HirslЙ™nmЙ™ Basa Sal
Based on this classic Azerbaijani comedy, here is a story that captures the spirit of that phrase: The Secret of the Samovar One afternoon, Dammad found Mammad standing in the
"Listen," Mammad began, waving a copper pipe vaguely. "I saw a speck of dust. Just one! I thought, 'Dadaş loves this samovar like a son. I shall polish it.' But the polish was strong, Dadaş! Too strong! It didn't just take the dust; it took the handle right off!" "In the play, it’s a comedy," he whispered
He opened his eyes, forced a terrifyingly tight smile, and said, "Fine. Başa sal (explain). How do you plan to fix it?"