M chronicles -III The Patriot
“You seem like a robust, agile young fellow”, the old lady complimented. A man, less initiated in the affairs of the world, would have blushed at such perfumed words. I did not. People who know me would attest that a humbler being has seldom existed. But, in some matters, honesty is of essence. Hence, with all the modesty that I can afford, let me tell you that in such affairs as unwarranted cajolery on a train I am a seasoned veteran. I knew what was to follow. “Would you mind switching seats, my knees you see” she continued. I did not bother to check the status of her knees. What did it matter? Belonging to lineage of chivalrous and patriotic gentlemen, I could not refuse her request, even though, to be honest, she did look like a misguided soul who prefers to run marathons on her free time. Her seat was B1 8. The side upper berth near the toilet. No sane individual, even those with an underdeveloped or malfunctional olfactory lobe, would enjoy the sweet aroma of excretion that ov