An explosive 'BIN', LADEN with trouble

Bins collect refuse of all states, hues, colours ,shapes and odours. This is one of the kind that did come with the cautionary nail biting label 'HANDLE WITH CARE'. Atleast, it did, till the kiss of death, provided by a star and stripe bullet  changed the inflicted nomenclature to "HANDLED WITH CARE'.

History, being HIS-STORY, utmost care was taken to ensure that justice must also be seen to be done.Thus, St.Peter, the keeper of the gates of heaven paved way for a chaste communist, unchaste in his means of dispensing justice. A true brethren of the red creed, 'Equality' was the middle name of the new gate keeper and he left no stone unturned in proving the worth of his name. This new appointment was no different.


Entry into paradise was not based on past deed or feed.It was pure simple division.Irrespective of a saintly devil or a devilish saint, if one soul would enter paradise, the next one,undoubtedly and deed not bearing, would find his way into merry hell.Categorisation...unambiguous communist style.

It soon was the turn of our bullet ridden man Friday, Bin Laden. The soul ahead of him in the line, a consecrated symbol of humbleness, was pushed into the unforgiving gates of hell, thus offering him the unstoppable one way ticket to paradise, an outcome of martyrdom he presumed.While his forerunners screeched and preached reconsideration,Laden stepped on to the pedestal of decision, using his soiled dentures to shape his nails.Just as the gatekeeper prepared to bring the gavel down and pronounce 'heaven', Laden glanced at the gatekeeper and uttered in pompous hatred... 'infidel' 

The mallet in the hands of the gatekeeper stopped short of completing the loop of endorsement.He looked up, narrowed his brow and exclaimed '' Say that again !!! ''

In unrepentant  Qaeda flavor, he repeated ''I-N-F-I-D-E-L'' , while at the same time continuing his nail biting self indulged manicure. 

With the last utterance, equations changed.The balance of division followed by the gatekeeper changed course and the six feet six - pole of a million deaths was ushered  down the pavement leading to hell.He resisted and protested, seeking claim to the promised entry into paradise and multitudes of perpetually regenerating virgins meant to serve him.

His towering entry into hell did not go unnoticed.A million souls of his following, resting from the torturous ordeal that the spot offers, rose in unison to welcome him into their folds.Whoever said...history (his-story) is bound to repeat itself. 

'PUTIN'g it right

Seated on top an unforgiving icicle, in the vicinity of Mount Elbrus, the highest point in the Caucasus, was a red dyed premier of dwindling fame, Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin.

The mount and the man carry on their confining shoulders,  a very eruptive past. Now, nevertheless, the distorted man had a different tale to croon. He stood at the draw of the ascend, nursing a black eye , sobbing in anger and cursing in glory. The flavour of a revolution was rising to a crescendo in, around and outside the ballot boxes of Saint Petersberg. The premiers black eye, was a nudging milestone.

While the number heavy Bolsheviks let their mind ponder about unjust elections, the pride soaked Mensheviks seemed in-ardently concerned about the discoloured eye patch. This overt concern snowballed into a covert quip that finally landed gracefully on the not so graceful lap of the warring Duma.

The onus was now on the steer of the Duma to set matters right.Thus,with the renowned torture room specialist Alexander Ballsquashki (Ball-squash-ki) in tow, the arm twisted media was summoned to pen and broadcast epics of Putins glory.

''Our President has suffered a minor injury'' he declared, stealing a glance between the rim of his spectacles and the fold of the brow for any voices of flagship dissent.''In the wee of hours of an undisclosed day, our leader volunteered to test evasive prisoner of war drills with our chief interrogator.The President was shown as much mercy as your worst nightmare was.'' 

The beefcake in tow, nodded, his head,synchronizing hell and earth in nondescript bounce.The spokesman continued   '' in doing so, as a true upholder of the revolution and a committed judoka, he triumphed, but in the process suffered a minor injury to his eye which today bears testimony to his commitment to this great nation ''
 
The head of the duma presumed he had killed two birds with one stone.Just as he was recovering from his momentary lap of glory, a communist grown tomato from the rebel stock was hurled in violent fury from the far end of the conference room. The fruit turned missile traveled in epic shattering speed, found its mark and caught the monumental interrogator on his right eye. 

A Menshevik voice was heard screaming from the gathering ''..there is more to a commitment  than what meets the eye, the truth which has just been replicated for your consumption.'' Thus, placing a shroud over the premature heroics of a leader.

(Written on a casual note about one of the leaders that I adore.... to the hilt)

INDIBLOGGER MEET :NEW DELHI

' RUCKUS ON PARLIAMENT STREET ' 

Giving a visual tone to all little indulgences sundry,silly or otherwise,that came together on the 11th of Dec 2011 . It was indeed a bouquet of web casts at the indiblogger meet.

- Cheers

SARKOZY : Life inside a ... 'rubber'

Nicolas, a very eligible male

fell in love with a voluptuous whale.

From her he wanted babies

which she confused for scabies.

Not to be left in the dry

together they decide to try.

They commenced the process in Paris

but was way off the axis.

Not to be let down by Geography

they banked on mutual topography.

 Now was the issue with size

to which the answer was a disguise.

He unpacked a gigantic rubber

to use as a floating bumper.

In he went like a snake
t'was hard to call him fake.

On the final count of a trot

he rushed like a bullet shot.
After the in and out of life
the whale is now his wife.
 There is an offspring in tow
to the world they are yet to show
Queer are the manners of this breeder
masquerading as a leader.

SADANADA GOWDA : Bang-a-lure Torpedo Sited

In the realms of business, a consultant is defined as an entity who will feign to know everything about nothing and nothing about everything.

In the city of concrete gardens, the mall owning chief minister, bears a ear to ear smile, flashing the Mercer consultancy report, declaring his city as India's most livable.

The sheen on his celebrating mandibles is soon swept aside when a prominent member of the anti corruption crusade taps his Achilles heel with a graph representing the gravity defying corruption index. 

To the man in the middle....its time to turn a blind eye to boon and bane in tango and settle within the comforts of his controversial 'Mall'ice.

 

In the grip of a Bengal Tigress : MUM's the word

A trigger happy lose canon is crawling,walking,running, trotting and galloping the sickle'd length and reddened breadth of volatile Bengal.The gun of enduring damage is towed from weak pillar to weaker posts by a toothless tigress of unpredictable demeanor. The ire of the weapon was aimed at anything, with a remotely opposing flavour. Gun and gun woman were wrecking mayhem in Rosgulla land.

While on their state wide onslaught, the tigress and her bone gnawing convoy were soon running out of firepower. 

The disconcerted rumble in the rank and file of the feline assault was momentarily anchored.A growing measure of anger was enveloping the lady in stripes. 

As the mercurial twists of temperament was on the rise, a naive brethren of the khaki community marched in.After the customary mechanical salute and cliched sway of the baton,in measured politeness, he questioned the ignoble intentions of the havoc trail.

The quick silvered character of the growling 'didi' pack was aghast. The goddess of fastidious esteem stepped forward bearing a toothless growl. In a sway she gripped the lawman by her claws and uttered ''In here....my way, no other way !!''  

With a change of guard in the state, the state of affairs is described as '....from the frying pan,into the fire'     

'GUT-CURRY' (Gadkari) Hatcheries

'You better get into shape...' belched a short fused,unruly and rude egg laying fowl from the saffron poultry. 

'Round is a shape and I am in good shape' rebuked the railway track mustache sporting, lead nanny of the withering Lotus pack. 

This was not an uncommon scene at the Gadkari hatcheries, where eggs of all colours, hues and most importantly, various degrees of social rot, hatch to enter the Lotus tribe of vote mongering.  They were blessed with the perfect nanny, the custodian of their blue print for life: A gentlehen...  devoid of anything remotely gentle; a visionary- blind as a bat to the present, let alone the unseen future and above all humble.. to his own interests of course. So to say, the eggs were indeed in the right basket.

   

The proverbial nanny of improverbial wonder, rolled around in 'maternal' ease. This stroll of honour ended in a far corner of the hatchery. The 'Gut-curry' turned around, scanned the environment and then gently, using his pedicured talons, moved the hay to reveal a wooden egg resting on a plastic  lotus !!! 

 

The bird of infinite optimism smiled.On the wooden replica was inscribed in invisible ink 'Prime Minister'. This was indeed the egg of hope and succor to the fowl (foul) of ambition. He quickly hoisted his generous constitution and placed between those delicate legs of generous volume, the dream he harboured.

Having settled down in absolute comfort, he closed his eyes to dream about the post hatch luxury and the life associated.The smile illustrated it all.

Suddenly, this flight of fantasy was grounded by another unruly howl from the neighbourhood.

''COCK-A -DOODLE-DO'' screeched the 'moody' Gujarati nanny from the neighboring hatchery.The smile on the lead fowl  face faded away, turning into a cold scorn. The cry had upset his piling egg cart.The neighbour, in true politeness, only tried to remind him.... not so fast my friend, roosters don't hatch eggs.