A big hand for rewriting the constitution
Call me prosaic or of vegetarian mindset, but I did look pointedly for long at the picture accompanying the recent newspaper story that someone (with obviously all the time in the world) unearthed (why on earth) the ID of the model behind the Vinci portrait Mona Lisa.
As disappointed as I was after panting down the wide corridor of Louvre to see the painting that was smeared by a tight security glazing, I could not decipher even after almost two decades what was so specially mysterious or pleasurable about the dry smile, if you can call it a smile, that is.
Art connoisseurs of the inventive breed have been on record wondering whether the woman (there was suspicion about that too) in perhaps the most famous portrait in the world was happy or sad, loving or cold, content or upset, aggressive or submissive, and so on; but that divided opinion is relevant for almost any face that does not part the lips. My suspicion is every half a decade a new spice is added to the story of Mona. Lesser otherwise may be the crowd at the French national art museum.
Such a threat is not looming on the disgraced Selection Commission, per se our very own famous Louvre of derelict public servants where a horde of journalists throng every day to collect their daily dose of medicine laughter. From therein they beam to the world the framed fixture (also read picture) of the never-say-die Maha Fuse, who thinks (one doubts though whether he can) that because he has been sat on the chair and upgraded by himself, no one can kick his bottom, ever. Only the arrogant pagan Pharaohs of the doomed ancient Egyptian civilisation lived and perished with such a foolhardy attitude.
One thing positive though. He does not possess the unreadable smirk worthy of a koti taka as a work of art. And that sort of transparency (oops) I like. Art critiques need not scratch anything to decode that the man is haughty, moronic, pitiless and waiting for instructions to get out. But in the meantime he is enjoying himself like an idiot at the cost of millions in terms of money, time and national prestige.
A cheez (The Thingy), Maha Fuse (melts only at high temperature), Jock o' Rear (self explanatory), Mawd-aur-Beer (a 1971 PoW), the unknown Shy Fool and their cronies have given us so much pleasure over the past few months that we owe them a befitting farewell.
While at a goodbye party it is customary to gift a long-serving colleague a wristwatch because he does not need to know the time anymore or a walking stick when he wants to rest, those planning their collective send-off bash (do not read baash) are leaving no stone unturned to gift them some very original presents for their presence of mind.
The Chee-e-Chee Bidai Shambordhona Committee may also like to consider our humble contributions among many other awards lined up for them, made of I am told, genuine leather and of poultry origin.
They may each be presented with a pair of fresh spectacles to read the constitution, a dictionary so that they can understand the meaning of the constitution, some common sense to help them interpret the constitution in the spirit in which it was written, and lots of patriotism to enable them to protect the constitution for the people for whose benefit they were appointed.
Alas! It will be like any other farewell shindig and they will have no use for the useless gifts that the nation shall bestow.
A cheez went on leave because he understood his chutti was granted. Indeed he has enjoyed his holidays so much that last Sunday he decided to stick with it. He is a man of much honour and pride; only he realised that during his forced vacation.
The country's top cop, who reportedly surrendered at the Race Course Maidan on 16 December Unish-sho Ekattur, has declared his intention to lay down his arms once again, because only he knows the benefits of giving up after a futile stand. This raises a moral issue: Should one of the 93,000 Pakistani soldiers, who laid down their arms, badges and waist-belts on the holy turf of Suhrawardhy Udyan on that euphoric afternoon, want to contest our upcoming national elections, what would we Mukti Joddhas do? Suck our thumbs, I presume.
Shy Fool does not know what he was doing in a place that has been wrongly named (there was no fiscal 'commission'). And we have no clue why he was chosen. But he has also decided to keep his 'empty' bag packed and ready, waiting for a request. Quitting is better than being kicked out even a fool knows that.
As for Maha Fuse, the news is even better. He told reporters last Monday, a day after The Thingy vanished into thin air, that they were 'not thinking anything'. That is a definite blessing. Now that they have stopped thinking, the devil shall perhaps depart, and the country will be blessed with a solemn Election Commission.
Jock o' Rear is supposedly patting his swollen underside to soothe the belting from his party people for landing the nation in such a mess.
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A question to those who write the constitution: Is it not dangerous and anti-people to give blanket protection to a person appointed by human wisdom to a position from which he cannot be removed by human wisdom even if his behaviour is akin to madness and unbefitting of his position? Earki aar ki!
The answer: It is.
Please rewrite this bit of the constitution and you will be given a big hand.
(R) thedailystar.net 2007