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FUCK IN A TRAIN

By Sahebji

At 5.50 p.m. on a hot May evening I was sitting on the lower berth of a coupe compartment in the first class air conditioned coach of a train scheduled to depart for Madras in ten minutes time. I was on my way to attend a business meeting.

My name is Saheb Sahebji. This is not my given name but everyone including my parents calls me by it. Anyway, what is in a name? I am 6 feet tall and slim. I am a freelance commercial artist by profession.

I was wearing a kurta and pajama (North Indian attire for men, suitable for day and night wear) so that I would be comfortable and didn't have to change on the train.

The incident I am about to narrate took place some years ago. The upper berth was still empty. I was wondering who would be my travel companion when the coach attendant arrived with a lady.

"Madam, this is the only berth, which is not occupied. If you want I can allot it to you. This gentleman is also traveling to Madras like you," he said, pointing to the upper berth.

...

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