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<%-- Page Title--%> Chintito <%-- End Page Title--%>

<%-- Volume Number --%> Vol 1 Num 120 <%-- End Volume Number --%>

August 29, 2003

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Our Very Own
Freedom of the
press

(Seven things to wonder about)

Chintito

There is a staid cricket manager from Dhaka
Who after 32 years confuses Rupee with Taka
On arrival for the Karachi Test
He was not in his military best
And said: Aaj hum mera doosra ghar pe dhooka!

There is a man in charge of shipping
Who dreamt a launch was slipping
Thinking it was a big thatta
He tugged on his long dopatta
And went back to his deep sleeping.

There is an examination called the BCS
The nation's future depends on it more or less
Last time the questions were out
They blamed an inside tout
Who was printing them in his private press.

A flyover they are building in Moakhali
It is meant for drivers who can think clearly
Taking a wrong turn
Will not only make petrol burn
But may also land you in faraway Noakhali.

There is a state bank prefixed Bangladesh
Its security reputation is all but sesh
Counterfeit notes were found
But even using a hound
They could not find the banker in chaddo-besh

The BCS exam was required to be held again
It was more a test of buying power than of brain
Questions were laid out on a tray
For everyone who agreed to pay
The future of the nation was surely going down the drain.

I met a mosquito, who survived the DCC spray.
He said: We cannot be wiped out, so do pray.
Their drug is not authentic.
It will never make us sick.
Therefore, dengue will be back. Hip-hip hooray!

 
         

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