“As far he is concerned ‘International Women’s Year’ is over.”
Posts Tagged ‘humor’
I am at the end of my tether. I have this slightly damaged goods and I tried all, but the thing has outplayed my hands. I could burn the whole thing up. But then it would make all my sweat and bother not worth the while.
I shall sell the world lock, stock and barrel. Whoever buys it off my hands then shall I leave the hell. It would be fun.
Let me see my little black book: under equivocation: ‘speak with a forked tongue but a mallet on the head makes carry the day.’ See Syria for instance. At Geneva they lie their heads off and they can teach me a trick of two. Imagine I who made a lie stick in their throat now am at the risk of drowning in the flood. They produce enough to drown the world and few besides in it. No I shall not have it. Sell it any price.
Now let me check what I had noted under persuasion:
‘Give the weak and defenseless some bromide to buck their spirits up. Say liberty and they are ready to break the chains off the ankles of half the world.
‘That is persuasion for you. But the Panama Papers show how wet I am behind my ears.
Now recalling how I went about all across the world whispering the buzz word into their ears all I have got two alien tribes living cheek by jowl yet oblivious of each other.
Under education I had scrawled in my illegible hand. ‘Curiosity kills the cat but fat cats know how to kill curiosity.’ The world is reeling under a strange disease of FOMA. Does a man who has never bothered to know what he is really require so much external stimuli? He has information to drown three worlds and he is showing early symptoms of info crunch. Eternal youth for him with such symptoms is a crime. I shall not be held to account for it.
I am Satan but even I have some scruples. I shall sell the world lock, stock and barrel. Whoever buys it off my hands then shall I leave the hell. It would be fun.
Hamid the Sponge could call on Mullah anytime. He was a playfellow from his youth. One day he turned up and saw a stone jar of pickles. Mulla explained it was 40 years old. ‘A family heirloom you could say, Hamid,’ Instantly Hamid asked, ‘Can I borrow some?’ Mulla refused. Mulla turned the subject and said,’My wife just made halwa, Lucknowi style. ‘ Come let me bring it’
Hamid tasted it and Mulla asked,”How is it?’ Hamid said,’Please wrap this for me. I’ll taste it at home and let you know.’
At one place while they chatted the subject came around to halwa. Each one had his own speciality. Mulla brightened up and said,’I am sure about what goes into Lucknowi halwa.’
‘Lucknowi halwa?’ one asked,’Never tasted one,’Mulla how does that taste?’ Mulla shrugged his shoulders and said,’
‘How do I know? Hamid ought to know what it is like’
Later as Hamid took him home he said,’Why do you bring me into your talk? I insist: keep me out of it’
Next time Mulla was at the house of another local worthy and he had to say while the question of Halwa came up. Mulla held his hand up and said,’I know how Lucknowi halwa is made. But keep our friend Hamid out of it.’
Rashid was the youngest son of Mulla Nasruddin. Being son of his old age he was spoilt and Mullah doted on him. One evening Mulla took him along to take the air in the royal gardens.
The boy was sure the stick was not necessary for his father. He threw it away causing unforeseen trouble for the Mulla.
Mulla took the boy back home assuring the local worthy to drive some sense into the boy.’After all you are a chip of the old block’ said the Mulla, ‘Beating you is like beating me. So there is only one thing left.’
Mulla beat the old tree saying,’See what trouble your stick has caused me?’
1.Man who simplifies life has plenty to spare for best things in life. Man who lives on hire has all the vices of others to bear.
2. A young man who could only afford public transport happily did his stint; and now as talking head of a big Corporation he is chauffeur driven. He hates it. His public image is so altered and airbrushed whenever he looks in the morning at the mirror what he sees disgusts him.
3. This fable is very familiar and let me just the same tell to drive home a point:’ The country mouse lived merrily on offal; town mouse on caviar and blue cheese but the cat in the corporate hierarchy was a terrible taskmaster. Whichever way he looked could not rise in that corporate ladder without licking his boots.
Is corporate life all that bad? Now that I am past that stage of hard labor or looking forward for a hike in my wages, I ought to be careful in making any sweeping assertions. Some can handle corporate decision-making and work cheek by jowl with coworkers and try to see their ideas put into effect, and make a decent living. Are you really happy selling things you would not sell to your children or to loved ones? Are you happy playing toady to your boss who is merely looking after his back and shall sell you at the first opportunity to save his own skin? Would you be better off if you did some soul searching to ask,’Is this all I can do?’ If making life simpler is what you aim at, go into business yourself. And when it really takes off you shall start all over again worrying over matters seemingly trivial to others, Your biggest headache shall be that your sweat and blood do not fall to the ground in vain. Perhaps you shall require medication to keep your spirits up or to make through the day and night. The bottom line is keep your investment from failing and keep all aspects of you creature under your control. It shall take every ounce of your effort but then it is your own brain child. At least when all said and dome you hall have the satisfaction you gave your best shot at it.
Once I had such a beautiful coat. Trouble was whenever I put it on, no one saw me. If I reminded them ‘I am here’ the answer was,’Clothes make a man. no more is needed.’
During the days of great Depression I tried to live as grandly as I could to fight its effect on me. My wallet was a gold mine but depression being such my hands could not reach it. My foot was stuck above it, you see.’
I wanted to paint the ceiling as Michaelangelo would have done. But already some one had been at it what with clouds so life-like. I did not have the heart to paint and instead began drawing cheques.
Have I told the time when I went to the heart of Africa? Once after an arduous travel I thought I would wash my dirt away. While I got into a big cauldron for the purpose, instantly came the bushmen from Kalahari and thereabouts, whooping in making a song and dance about me. I asked my guide what was that for and he says, ” Bush meat and and you are in it.”
There are two ways for a barefoot doctor to handle a banana in an African Jungle: give the banana to the silver back and slip on its peel yourself. ‘Have banana will travel as the bushmen say.’ The other way is to eat the banana and give the peel to the silver back. No one has lived to tell how does it taste.
I had an uncle of lamentable memory who was good at standing up any one who had an appointment with him. When finally death came up my late uncle said,’Cant you knock before you come in?’ That is why I am here for and death gave a knock out that he would never remember.
At the Turkish hamam Mulla Nasruddin was being worked over very roughly by his attendant. Having subjected his client to uncalled for comments about his difficulties he ended his non-stop harangue by saying he always got the miserly ones who never tipped him for his pains. Suddenly he stopped short. He rudely pointed to his woolen mittens to show the dirt he had collected. ‘What am to do with these the fellow queried.
‘That was your tip!’ said Mullah as he walked out.