A fiery speech..!
Robert Clements
Sunday, September 25, 2011 - Throughout the Anna Hazare movement and the effects it had on his government Manmohan Singh hardly said or acted like he was in charge and was as quiet as a dormouse till his last impassioned speech when the country wondered why such a fiery orator had been quiet for so long.
The whole nation wondered what changed a mouse into a lion. It could have happened like this: “What are you packing for my lunch dear?” asked the Prime Minister as he asked his wife every morning before leaving for the job of ruling the country.
“The usual!” said Mrs Singh. “You mean aloo paratha and dhahi?” “That is what you want everyday isn’t it?” “It keeps me calm and composed dear! Aloo paratha, dhahi and my blue turban all go well together, don’t you think?” “You are asking me to think?”
“No, no dear, please don’t, I don’t want a fight! Confrontations upset me!” “You have a big speech today in the House?” “Yes dear! I have to speak about Anna Hazare!” “And you are, I suppose going to make one of your mild speeches?” “A soft answer turns away wrath dear!” “Too many soft answers are turning you into a mouse dear!” “I said no confrontations dear! Not from you also!” “Where is your lunch box?” “You said you packed it dear,” said the good doctor, visibly disturbed by this new interruption in his routine.
“Let me check the curds,” said Mrs Manmohan as she took the dabba inside. The PM took out his speech and quietly went over it again and mirthlessly chuckled that all his speeches sounded the same, “Quiet men make quiet speeches!” he chuckled and didn’t see his wife opening his dabba and slipping in a hot green chilly into his paratha. “Are you going to eat lunch prime minister?” asked a congressman as they stood together just before entering the house. “Ah yes, I will eat then speak!” The good doctor took out his normal aloo paratha and with a smile took his usual big first mouthful, “Aaaghh!” he screamed as the bell for the session sounded.
“We will now hear the Prime Minister speak!” said the speaker. “Mr Prime Minister! Mr Prime Minister!” The nation watched as a fiery prime minister eyes blazing, throat on fire delivered an impassioned volley of gunfire.
“No,” smiled the prime minister, “but it sure worked, the people have stopped calling me a mouse.” His missus and he laughed together as she threw out the rest of the chilies.
—Email:bobsbanter@gmail.com
The whole nation wondered what changed a mouse into a lion. It could have happened like this: “What are you packing for my lunch dear?” asked the Prime Minister as he asked his wife every morning before leaving for the job of ruling the country.
“The usual!” said Mrs Singh. “You mean aloo paratha and dhahi?” “That is what you want everyday isn’t it?” “It keeps me calm and composed dear! Aloo paratha, dhahi and my blue turban all go well together, don’t you think?” “You are asking me to think?”
“No, no dear, please don’t, I don’t want a fight! Confrontations upset me!” “You have a big speech today in the House?” “Yes dear! I have to speak about Anna Hazare!” “And you are, I suppose going to make one of your mild speeches?” “A soft answer turns away wrath dear!” “Too many soft answers are turning you into a mouse dear!” “I said no confrontations dear! Not from you also!” “Where is your lunch box?” “You said you packed it dear,” said the good doctor, visibly disturbed by this new interruption in his routine.
“Let me check the curds,” said Mrs Manmohan as she took the dabba inside. The PM took out his speech and quietly went over it again and mirthlessly chuckled that all his speeches sounded the same, “Quiet men make quiet speeches!” he chuckled and didn’t see his wife opening his dabba and slipping in a hot green chilly into his paratha. “Are you going to eat lunch prime minister?” asked a congressman as they stood together just before entering the house. “Ah yes, I will eat then speak!” The good doctor took out his normal aloo paratha and with a smile took his usual big first mouthful, “Aaaghh!” he screamed as the bell for the session sounded.
“We will now hear the Prime Minister speak!” said the speaker. “Mr Prime Minister! Mr Prime Minister!” The nation watched as a fiery prime minister eyes blazing, throat on fire delivered an impassioned volley of gunfire.
“No,” smiled the prime minister, “but it sure worked, the people have stopped calling me a mouse.” His missus and he laughed together as she threw out the rest of the chilies.
—Email:bobsbanter@gmail.com
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