Other Side of the Mirror: Why NaMo is making a mess of it
He is not playing the game according to the rules. See, that is an incandescent distillation of my research. Who does he think he is, the BCCI? Not being a team player could tee anyone off.
There you are expecting just more of the ho hum same and along comes this fella full of plans, not hopes and aspirations and fractured promises but flipping plans he puts into action overnight.
And who is expected to do the dirty work? The bureaucracy. Really, where does he get off? His political party which now can’t make hay even though the sun is shining brightly, because Big Brother is watching. That was not on the cards.
Other parties who are stuck in the dark and teeter on rickety platforms. Bankers who have to offer a service. The public sector. The private sector. Uncle Tom Cobbely. Oh, and the media who have been given a one way ticket to Coventry. Like he’s so gung ho everyone is into depression.
This collective wrath is understandable. It was bad enough the prime minister talked about toilets in the UN darling, really, so declasse, went the trill of the drawing room daffodils.
But the biggest problem is that while all his foes wait for him to stumble the man seems to use glory instead of bathwater to drench himself.
I mean it is a bit of crust winging your way to Kashmir to break K rations with the soldiers and giving a Diwali morale boost to our men in uniform when you should have been in Gujarat lighting diyas and receiving VIP guests and wads of moolah in brown paper wrapping to fill the empty spaces in your cupboard.
And to cap it all, NaMo is seen in a tent at high altitude playing with a sniffer dog which has all the animal lovers gooey and moist. This sort of conduct is just not acceptable. After sixty odd years of being dicked around by politicians you cannot expect us to so swiftly accept the change of pace. Ergo, you have to be up to some wicked little trick, Mister NM and all this is only smoke and mirrors and I can see through you. Ha, you don’t fool me.
As all the pygmy Cascas plot against you, one day, but their sheer numbers, you might trip or reel and then we will all be vindicated and turn to each other and say, see, told you so, they are all the same. That will be such a relief. Doing everything right is not only exhausting, it is downright exasperating.
Why on earth do you want to be an eagle in a world of pigeons. We all took bets that it would not last, this guy was too good to be true, he was too slippery clever, too slick, Zarlton Karpathy oozing charm as he oils his way across the floor. Will you please make a slip and let us get on with our lives.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, velkommen to thee cabba-ray, for hees next act, NaMo will dump the rabbit and two doves and produce a list of secret Swiss account holders and what a show that will be, old chum.
As one government secretary said to the other: Run to your homes and fall upon your knees, pray to the gods to intermit this plague… lest it’s forever, sheesh, its ruining my golf handicap already.
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