Thirty Four Plastered Left Legs

Preface: It has been almost symmetric. This process of depresion has always given me new and fresh approaches. It has been like a re-incarnation everytime I get out of it. Or may be I have mechanized myself so.
Last when I bathed in blue on my trip back from Jammu, Jaanaki happened, and now its another I sense in its nascence.

An Intriguing Night For Gangadhar Sahoo

The day must have been exceptionally bad for Gangadhar Sahoo. He seemed to be cursing any and everything at will. especially the train, which had already been late by half a day when he boarded it. its slackness only increased after he got in and now when it hiccuped and came to a stop at one thirty A.M. he was forced to think.
'this bastard shall make me lose my job before even getting it.'
he kicked the blanket and curved up to rest on his elbows. He was on the middle berth and with his awkward height of six feet three, life had been all the more miserable. He remembered the ticket collector with his ugly smile, earlier the day when he ahd reserved a seat for a bribe of two hundred rupees.
'that swine, could easily have given me an upper.' He looked up, the sudent fellow had not got down once after getting up on his berth. Must be taking pills, he thought to himself and craned down to glance at the length of the compartment. Not a thing moved in the blue hue of night lamps. 'dead souls' he cursed again.

CONTD.

At times like these, I often feel, its useless to hope.
The story has already been scripted for long.

Its Maare Gaye Gulphaam, from a lost begining to an imminent end