The plume from Fukushima nuclear pant became alarmingly dense and lethal. The Ancient of the Days was in council and He had 5 nano sceonds to decide. The angel representing Japan kowtowed before God and said,’ Don’t let it fall on Japan. Already they had been hurt in Nagasaki and Hiroshima.To afflict them once again would be double jeopardy and illegal.’
‘It’s true.’God was sure that Japan should be spared from it.
One angel who acted as the devil’s disciple said,’ But nuclear leak creates a cloud and it must break on somewhere.’
God created a tornado out of it. Instantly the angel representing the USA complained, ‘ No Lord,’ said he,’ our land has become a dustbowl already. Send it somewhere else.’
God thought and said, ‘Great.’ He converted all that pestilential nuclear cloud into rain and it had to go somewhere.
The Council quickly concluded:’There must be someone who cannot resist a bargain and shall do anything to get it all free’.
Meanwhile on the earth a man suddenly woke up and said ‘Free!’
Much of the day he thought over it and went to a giant tree and cut it down. Sure enough he found a hoard of gold coins. Hauling it home he went into business.
‘Goldstein & Co, Bankers.The Corporate heads were from all across the globe. Isidor the President and his CEO a Turk knew they held all the aces.
There was a credit crunch going on. And the gold held by the Banking house was like water from a bottomless well. The Bank was sure that they could charge interest as high as he could go. They specialized in financing wars wherever it occurred across the globe. People saw how lavishly the bankers lived and none asked their source. None drew a parallel with the countries and the money they had at their disposal to decimate the population before time. No country ever thought of peace but money and power that war brought to it.
Archive for April 13th, 2011
‘The war in Afghanistan is in danger of becoming a forgotten conflict because of events in Libya and across the Middle East, David Miliband has warned.
The former foreign secretary told the BBC more effort was needed to find a political solution before British and US troops are withdrawn in 2014’.(April,13-BBC news.uk)
How forgotten a war could be? I wanted to find out answer to this myself. So I unearthed the address of my schoolmates, the Ghazni brothers, who came in the eighties to do Engineering. They had scholarship and were in affluent circumstances. Their bulging wallet made all the boys root for them. Moe the Gregarious never lacked friends. Unlike Mohammed, his twin brother Ummer the Moaner just brought motherly instincts out of any girl. Ummer had his harem of weepers who comforted the fatherless boy while Moe threw money around despite a terrible tragedy.
Under occupation he lost many of his relatives. His father and his grandfather were lined up against a mud wall by the Soviet Army for retaliation. They were picked at random and shot. As sop to the outrage the Americans sent many helter-skelter on special grants to study. The twins were beneficiaries of that impersonal windfall. Moe celebrated life in honor of the dead. Ummer felt the loss of his dear ones with all the intensity his sensitive nature could bear. They both felt their loss last time I met them at the turnstile of our adult lives. Ten years ago they had moved over to their hometown in order to add their expertise for the village once again under seige. Five years ago Moe was killed by Taliban because he refused to be cowed down. He despite threats sent his daughter to College and for it he was executed with a bullet at close range. Ummer lost his family impersonally by a drone attack. They were on their way to attend a wedding. It was all a mistake, the news said so. I could get Ummer and asked if the Afghan War was a forgotten war. ‘How can I ever forget the death of my brother, my right hand? How can I forget loss of my wife. My heart is ripped apart?’ Later he said,’ I am part of a growing army of dead,-and the dead never changes opinions’.
For once he was dry eyed and said in the end,’The dead can only think of what made them dead’. No war can be forgotten by those who are in the line of fire. Thinking it over Ummer had run out of tears and it must yet rankle deep within.