Word: throng
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With these words, Morarji Desai, 81, assured a jubilant throng in New Delhi that he would "drive fear out of society." Two months earlier he had been a prisoner without trial under the repressive state of emergency; last week, as he became the fourth Prime Minister of India, he promised to restore civil liberties, adhere to the principles of local development idealized by Mahatma Gandhi and maintain a scrupulously nonaligned foreign policy. A lifelong politician in the Gandhian mold, Desai is as eccentric as he is ascetic, and he leads a fractious coalition party that could fall apart under...
Last Book. "Our purpose is the revival and restoration of pure Islam," the pudgy, bearded Wallace declared to the throng at Chicago's gold-domed central mosque on Survival Day weekend. No longer is Fard to be considered divine, according to Wallace, for "God does not eat, he does not drink." Nor is Elijah Muhammad to be considered the "Messenger of God." Wallace's view: "The Prophet Mohammed is the seal of the prophets, and the Koran is the last book." The soft-spoken Wallace Muhammad, who had originally wanted to be an electronics technician, privately questioned Fard...
...French press called it a consecration. Critics on the French left compared the rally to pro-fascist, personality cult mass meetings. And there were resemblances. When Chirac rose to greet the throng, none of the other leaders of the old DRU party shared the podium with him. When the crowd broke in the afternoon to "elect" a chief for the new movement in voting booths thrown up around the fairground, the electors were presented with only three choices--"for" Chirac, "against" Chirac, or "abstain." One spectator, questioned by a New York Times reporter about the angry but obedient mood...
Shee-Rack! Climaxing a day-long orgy of pride and peroration, Chirac stood atop an immense podium, his arms outstretched in the large V popularized by De Gaulle. "Let us restore hope to our country!" he shouted to the throng. Like tiny flashes of lightning, the reflections of strobe lights glittered on his large glasses while his followers cried over and over, "Shee-rack! Shee-rack...
...rode on horseback from the Capitol to the President's house, I could not help but notice that a joyous Throng was both following and Preceding me to our Destination. Buoyant as were the massed Hurrahs and diverse expostulations of admiration (many honeyed with the familiar accents of our South and West), it was only with the greatest difficulty that I forced myself into the Executive Manse. Obstructed from the front, shoved from the rear, I was immediately engulfed in an unreguarding tide of high-spirited Humanity. Ultimately, I was literally pressed against a Wall. Further retreat seemed impossible...