The blaring sun, burnt sand and empty canteens did little to help the four travelers. A menancing heat weighed upon the Thar desert like a clumsy cloud, refusing to move on. In the distance, the four specks ambled on, hoping to find food and shelter before the moon showed her lovely face.
The soles of their shoes, battered and torn from the never-ending walk, and the barefoot flaming with the sand. A simple loin cloth covering their legs and exposing the ribbed chests. None of them spoke a word for their lips wouldn't move and their throat felt like a sand-filled vessel. Each of their faces were fully exposed to the sun, and hunched backs bombarded with useless debris, but too expensive to abandon. The village drew closer with every step they took and so did their death. The fragile bone frame couldn't hold on for much longer. Their shrivelled muscles tirefuly fulfilling their duty of pushing the creatures ahead, but they would soon collapse.
And then they saw it. A single parched hut, followed by a village, sprouting houses and shelter. They made their way through the village hardly sighting a soul, and settled down beneath the shelter of an Oak tree. The eldest Ali brother raised a hand, calling for an immediate council. The three younger ones quickly gathered around, hoping to find some comfort and hope in the old one's words.
"Allah showed us some mercy. We have arrived in the village, but I must meet my end soon. For my bones are powdered, my muslces torn, my body shrivelled. There is no way to save me" the old thing muttered sadly. "Expect one. I must consume nourishment. For I have not offered my body a thing less than the mutton we ate a week ago. If you care about your old lad then get him something to eat or leave him to embrace Allah"
And with such words, the old Ali closed his eyes. His heart wouldn't beat much longer.
Out the three younger ones, there were two Ali-brothers. The youngest one happened to be a Meo, a Hindu who followed Muslim rituals. The two Ali-brothers were well aware of this and their cunning minds got to work.
"Go, Young Meo, go! You must get food for our father! We shouldn't let him leave us and enter the realm of Allah! Go fast, you fool, go! Get something to eat!" screamed the sly elder Ali.
"Come with me then! I shall not venture out alone, I am no slave!" revolted the Meo.
"We must not leave our father! The angels will come to take him away! We must push them away! Me and brother will stay here, you must go. You are not an Ali. You're half-blooded, a Meo. Now get to work before its too late" said the youngest Ali.
The Meo gave the two a disgusted glance. He knew that there were no angels and that being a Muslim or Meo didn't really matter. The two Ali's were just too lazy to get up and work. That's why they were creating such a colorblind illusion. But the Meo had an evil plan up his sleeve. He gave the two a last piercing stare and then left without saying a word.
Behind his back the two Alis smirked and laughed, feeling proud for their plan had worked.