Stop hiding your bar..!
Robert Clements
Wednesday, June 01, 2011 - Come sir, yes you with the white beard, white kurta, white pajamas and oh yes, fancy white shoes too, yes come with me sir, you who are chief minister of neighboring state. This sir is my humble abode!”
“You stare sir as you enter my living room, oh that, that sir is my little bar, yes sir, I do like a wee dram once in a way; a pint of beer, a good scotch twirling in my glass, ice floating on top, with a dash of soda sometimes, other times just on the rocks.”
“I know there be many who build bars inside their bookshelves and when priest or relative come home quickly cover bar with hardbound book. But mine sir is built for all to see. No sir I do not drink all day, and sometimes not even for weeks, months, but ever once in a while I love to feel a sweet wine against my lips.” “Your state I believe is the bar hiding kind?”
“Officially sir, you say you have prohibition: See Gandhiji, no bar! Yet, from what I hear, there are more drunks on your streets than in the state of Goa, where drinking is open and culturally accepted! And this man Hazare, this simple honest man behind whom the country rallied says that liquor flows like milk in your state!” “Tut! Tut! ” “It is so easy to keep an ‘official’ face for the world, isn’t it sir?”
“Officially I have prohibition, but unofficially, ha, ha, ha, ha..! “Officially I am supposed to enforce law and order, but unofficially during the riots, ha, ha, ha, ha..!” “Do you see drunks loafing your streets sir? Falling into gutters, or those industrialists who entertain in fancy clubs just outside your capital where liquor flows under the noses of your khaki men?”
“Did you hear the cries of women screaming with burning tires, tied round them, or did you close your ears pretending they were new Nanos whose brakes were being tested?” “You with the white beard, white kurta, white pajamas and oh yes, fancy white shoes, to whom the Americas refused a visa, dare you tell the country, ‘this is who I am,’ and stop hiding your bar?”
—Email:bobsbanter@gmail.com
“You stare sir as you enter my living room, oh that, that sir is my little bar, yes sir, I do like a wee dram once in a way; a pint of beer, a good scotch twirling in my glass, ice floating on top, with a dash of soda sometimes, other times just on the rocks.”
“I know there be many who build bars inside their bookshelves and when priest or relative come home quickly cover bar with hardbound book. But mine sir is built for all to see. No sir I do not drink all day, and sometimes not even for weeks, months, but ever once in a while I love to feel a sweet wine against my lips.” “Your state I believe is the bar hiding kind?”
“Officially sir, you say you have prohibition: See Gandhiji, no bar! Yet, from what I hear, there are more drunks on your streets than in the state of Goa, where drinking is open and culturally accepted! And this man Hazare, this simple honest man behind whom the country rallied says that liquor flows like milk in your state!” “Tut! Tut! ” “It is so easy to keep an ‘official’ face for the world, isn’t it sir?”
“Officially I have prohibition, but unofficially, ha, ha, ha, ha..! “Officially I am supposed to enforce law and order, but unofficially during the riots, ha, ha, ha, ha..!” “Do you see drunks loafing your streets sir? Falling into gutters, or those industrialists who entertain in fancy clubs just outside your capital where liquor flows under the noses of your khaki men?”
“Did you hear the cries of women screaming with burning tires, tied round them, or did you close your ears pretending they were new Nanos whose brakes were being tested?” “You with the white beard, white kurta, white pajamas and oh yes, fancy white shoes, to whom the Americas refused a visa, dare you tell the country, ‘this is who I am,’ and stop hiding your bar?”
—Email:bobsbanter@gmail.com
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