On a Sunday morning there was a dead man by the rails.
A rickshaw driver saw two black feet protruding out of the gutter and the gate keeper found him whole..
Where the slime had to be, there was a pool of now-dried purple blood.
So, he must have dived head-first into his own warm blood? Maybe it was too cold out in the night?
And the cop pulled him by them two feet that the rickshaw driver saw protruding out of the gutter. He was laid out (respectfully) between the steel rails (with his trousers down to his knees - That was how he was found) for the deceased to be identified.
On the road by the railway track, people gathered in a dynamic crowd.
They would come, look, stay, cover their mouths, and leave to make room for a new passerby to see - A perfectly disciplined lot.
[I had started with my tax tirade, but I found this dead man after my Sunday morning breakfast.. Does anyone know where I could get myself a gun?]