Shambambukli

How I wish everyone could understand every language on Earth... A tremendous story from here. I hope the author doesn't mind a spontaneous translation of one of these stories.

Here, - said the demiurge Mazukta. - This is your share in the world to come.
The man turned his share this way and that way, rolled it on his palm, and raised his puzzled gaze at the demiurge.
-Why so little?
-That's what I should be asking you, why so little, - retorted the demiurge. - You must have not tried very hard.
-I suffered! - the man stated with dignity.
-And since when, - wondered Mazukta, - has suffering counted as merit?
-I wore sackcloth and rope, - stubbornly frowned the man. - I ate bran and dry peas, drank nothing but water, did not touch women and boys, though, you know yourself, sometimes I really wanted to. I mortified my flesh with fasts and prayers...
-So what? - interrupted Mazukta. - I understand that you suffered - but for what precisely?
-For your glory, - answered the man without thinking.
-Well, what fine glory I seem to have! - Mazukta got upset. - Seems like I torment people with hunger, make them wear all sorts of rags and deny them the pleasures of sex?
-In general, yes, - quietly remarked the demiurge Shambambukli, who was sitting to the side.
-Don't interfere, - Mazukta brushed him off. - This is a different situation. In this world I play the Good Guy in Heaven.
-Ah, got it, - nodded Shambambukli and became silent.
-So what about my share? - the man reminded them.
Mazukta pensively scratched behind his ear.
-How can I explain it, so you'd understand... Take, for example, a carpenter. He builds a house, and also sometimes the hammer lands on his fingers, and he suffers because of it. But, nonetheless, he builds a house. And then receives his honestly earned payment. You, on the other hand, did nothing but bang your fingers with a hammer. And where is the house? Where is the house, I am asking you?