Do not know if women from within burqas are permitted to join fidayeen movements.
Probably she was never passionate enough to show her detestation against Western World and make India learn a lesson like he was. She might have known, that siyasi taluqqat with India are strained, but would she have been happy with his justification of being a freedom fighter?
May be. Women like to see in their men, the patriotic stint, even if with unfounded roots. And of course, discreetness comes as a part of any patriotic mission. "I shall, see a better Pakistan, inshallah. And then, my Azmal felicitated."
The clippings show on NDTV. One circled in red.
"Freedom fighters at a place shall always be viewed as terrorists otherwise. Isn't it? But, why are they calling him Kasav. Another secret he had kept, of being renamed? Do i know him even?"
"Azmal Kasav said he wanted to live, the only terrorist caught alive." The black sheep. Kala Bhed. Not man enough. Seemingly looks of approval of family members no longer last. Each drag of hukka with each repeat of the news telecast, made eyes redder veins more popping out.
Then the polygraph test. Compromised bloated face pictures. Denial by Pakistan of any links. "Where is my Hero? Wasn't he a revolutionary? Was he never in fact was one?"
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Beaming with pride, with Sasha and Maliya on side, she holds for him the Lincoln's Bible. And smiles at her 47 year old kid as he fumbles in repeating the oath. She is the First Lady. But more importantly, Mrs. Michelle Obama.
The smiles, the kids, the wardrobe, THE husband, the media, the speeches, the support, the public displays of affection, the rallies, the midnight brief (only possible!) talks with Barrack, the interviews. The planned course of action towards being the Lady of the House (White House.)
Probably she was never passionate enough to show her detestation against Western World and make India learn a lesson like he was. She might have known, that siyasi taluqqat with India are strained, but would she have been happy with his justification of being a freedom fighter?
May be. Women like to see in their men, the patriotic stint, even if with unfounded roots. And of course, discreetness comes as a part of any patriotic mission. "I shall, see a better Pakistan, inshallah. And then, my Azmal felicitated."
The clippings show on NDTV. One circled in red.
"Freedom fighters at a place shall always be viewed as terrorists otherwise. Isn't it? But, why are they calling him Kasav. Another secret he had kept, of being renamed? Do i know him even?"
"Azmal Kasav said he wanted to live, the only terrorist caught alive." The black sheep. Kala Bhed. Not man enough. Seemingly looks of approval of family members no longer last. Each drag of hukka with each repeat of the news telecast, made eyes redder veins more popping out.
Then the polygraph test. Compromised bloated face pictures. Denial by Pakistan of any links. "Where is my Hero? Wasn't he a revolutionary? Was he never in fact was one?"
____________________________________________________________________
Beaming with pride, with Sasha and Maliya on side, she holds for him the Lincoln's Bible. And smiles at her 47 year old kid as he fumbles in repeating the oath. She is the First Lady. But more importantly, Mrs. Michelle Obama.
The smiles, the kids, the wardrobe, THE husband, the media, the speeches, the support, the public displays of affection, the rallies, the midnight brief (only possible!) talks with Barrack, the interviews. The planned course of action towards being the Lady of the House (White House.)
"Does it need a less ambitious woman to be happy for one's husband's American Presidential Victory?"
As on Swearing in ceremony, Barrack gets emotional at the traditional Kenyan Singer's piece, unshowingly of course (I could never read his expressions and have always found just one word to describe it: composed) she siting from behind, places her olive green gloved hand on his shoulder. She is his wall.
Her wedding gown design, Hawaian honeymoon destination, her fashion designer, are sought after. I always have wanted a Chocolate Icecream tasting kiss after i knew her, about her.
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The two women who have strcuk me in the recent times. One hypothetically possible and one could not have been more real. But placing myself in their shoes, i felt the oppositeish.
Well, there has to be an end to every long blog.
At the end of it, its just intriguing and the more i emphathize, the more i get fascinated.
The pride, the knowledge of Your man causing pride, the cognizant lasting pride and the ephemeral confused one, followed by dark shame. The issue of the woman being instrumental in the man's journey to fame, whether concluded or unfinished.
I could be them. Either.
