A 2004 article that’s now been moved to here.

When I first arrived in the West, I remember a school child—seeing the latest ‘immigrant’—asked me with genuine curiosity, “Why do you come here?” … I can’t help but think that my ancestors must have asked his the same question!

Once, the Mulla woke up in the middle of the night to find that there was a burglar in his house gathering up his furnishings, clothes and pots. He did not disturb the burglar, but watched quietly as he swept the house clean and loaded his haul into a donkey cart.

When the burglar took off, the Mulla followed the donkey cart at a distance. He took note of the rich and commodious house, a few blocks from his own, where the burglar unloaded his loot, and quietly returned to his modest—and now emptied—dwelling, and went back to sleep.

Next morning, the Mulla asked his wife and children to follow him. They were moving into a new house. He took them to the burglar’s house, pushed open the door, and moved in.

When the burglar woke up later in the day, the Mulla thanked him profusely for helping him move to his new house. ^1

We become whom we plunder.

Rah Sabs

2004

^1 This is one among many of the stories of the famed terrorist, Mulla Nasruddin. The translation has been copied, with permission, from M. Shahid Alam who does far more justice to the point than I do here.