Nasrudin decided to go in search of some new meditation techniques. He saddled his donkey, went to India, China and Mongolia, talked to the great masters, but found nothing.
He heard tell of a wise man in Nepal: he journeyed there, but as he was climbing the mountain to meet him, his donkey died of exhaustion. Nasrudin buried him there and then, and wept sadly.
Someone passed by and commented...
Mula came upon a frowning man walking along the road to town. "What's wrong?" he asked. The man held up a tattered bag and moaned, "All that I own in this wide world barely fills this miserable, wretched sack."
"Too bad," said Mula, and with that, he snatched the bag from the man's hands and ran down the road with it....
Everyone in the village got pilgrimage fever and everyone got busy packing up some traveling clothes and food for the road. All except for Nasrudin, who watched them laboring away. Soon, all of the village: the men, women, and children, were heading out to Mecca. They were singing songs and shouting with great excitement about how they were off to find God.
They got about one mile away, when Nasrudin suddenly riding up on his donkey, shouting about some terrible emergency.