The use of boots

Everything is relative; especially man’s solidarity with his fellow. This reminds me of a story:



Far astray, much too far from the holy road to Mecca, tired Nasrudin and a companion of misfortune were lost in the great desert. They pulled their blistered legs through the fine hot sand that flew, on and on, around their boots like an hourglass forever turned. Yes, the day was near to end but not the journey.

And lo! Luck smiled upon them. Out of nowhere, between two yellow dunes, there was an oasis. It was too small and too lucky to have ever had a name, so that it thrived in harmony, just five rich palm trees on a bed of green grass, and fat flowers around an incredible little fresh pond sipping peacefully from a murmuring, cold crystal source.

After first quenching their thirst – for the thirsty plain water is so sweet – and quickly thanking Allah, the travellers pulled off their boots to refresh their weary feet in the cool water.

In the middle of this happiness, there was a huge roar, like a drum of war, and a desert lion presented his majesty on top of a dune.

At this, without delay, Hoca pulled his boots back on, ready to run for his life.

“Fool," cried the other traveller, "do you think that with your boots on you will run faster than the lion?”

“No brother, I will only run faster than you, and that will be good enough for me!”

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