Tag Archives: Prime Minister


First it was Zardari who wanted to gain sympathies of the poor fools (who forget how the wily politicians try to gain their votes, and then forget their promises), by first murdering Benazir Bhutto, and then posturing as the bereaved husband. He even changed his children’s last names to Bhutto. He would place Benazir’s photo every place he sat, stood, or whatever.

Taking a leaf from Zardari’s antics, now it’s Nawaz Sharif’s turn. While Zardari rule has been as a president of Pakistan, Nawaz Sharif (not sharif (pious) as the name indicates) has been a Prime Minister. He recently shamed the country publicly in acknowledging the debacle of terrorism which India accused Pakistan of doing so, and the Indian government themselves staged. I hope, and pray the people chase him with sticks, or shower him with rotten eggs, or tomatoes, when he dares show his face to the public.

It’s laughable Nawaz Sharif spending huge amounts in Pounds currency to keep the dead Kulsum Nawaz (his wife) alive on ventilators in England, just to gain sympathies of the masses to win elections in Pakistan. In his tenure as a Prime Minister he sank Pakistan more deeply into the quagmires of debt than his predecessors.

It will be more beneficial to his dead wife if he gives away that money in charity in her name, or give relief to our poor country in paying the country’s huge debts from IMF.

Please Mr. Nawaz spare us your from your crocodile tears.

Meeting President Obama


I was all nerves with excitement. It was beyond my wildest dreams. I was going to meet President Obama for the first time. Who could have thought that a mere unknown like me would be meeting the President face to face?

How did I get to this stage? A good question!

First of all, “Who in the dickens am I?”, you are going to ask. Why am I getting this opportunity?
Am I a newscaster? No.
Am I a celebrity? No.
Am I Julia Roberts? He He, No. My fave actress by the way.
Am I some visiting dignitary? No.
Head of State? Prime Minister? Some foreign princess?
The answer to all these questions is still no. So who am I? Oh, I am a house wife. I hope you are not disappointed with this answer. You are disappointed, I can tell. If you didn’t expect this answer, it’s not my fault for who I am.

Let’s come back to my original story. I am all agog at the opportunity to meet Obama. What a coup! I jump up and down for the sheer excitement of it all.

So back again to the story. I had to decide what to wear for the occasion. I went through my wardrobe for the umpteenth time rejecting everything in sight. Oh, why wasn’t I back in my own country so I could have a new dress stitched for this special occasion in my life? How could I have known I would be having this opportunity? People, when they hear it, will be filled with envy and green with jealousy.

I am getting jittery, feeling afraid that somehow I will fail myself in the eyes of people who will be watching me. I might tangle with something and fall flat on my face, or I will be stuttering with nerves. Or I will be so moved with emotions, that tears will start flowing down my face. Anything can happen, I shudder to think about it. I am trying to calm myself taking deep breaths.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States of America, Barack Obama. Finally, there he is. He is gracious and smiling. Not at all snobbish, my first thought. He is trying to put me at ease, looking friendly and approachable. I am full of nerves at this moment. Returning his smile my face breaks into an ear splitting grin. I am afraid my jaw will break into two halves. Oh my God!

Can you hear the drum beating?
The round of applause as I reach the President’s side.

There, my picture has been taken with the President. I step aside so others can have their picture taken. Done, I can leave now.

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