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By Neel Anil Panicker
The man on television was in a bad mood.
Inflation, depression, deprivation, lay offs …the words kept hurtling out of his loud mouth faster than a prized horse’s incessant trots on racing day.
Ramnath felt a thick knot forming around his lower back; the muscles around his neck beginning to constrict.
Despite the cool wintry breeze outside, a wet dampness seeped past the dank surroundings like an unwelcome guest; a sticky fluid trickling down his rickety torso and firmly embedding itself into the hidden crevices of his grossly underweight frame.
As grainy images of further decadence infiltrated the screen, Ramnath’s already shrunken five foot something self seemed to shrivel even further; his hands and limbs turning inwards into a foetal position.
Dawn morphed into noon and then nightfall but his eyes remained static, staring listlessly into the half baked walls.
Much later, he staggered out into the open and stared listlessly at the only wealth that he ever possessed__ a half completed, fast crumbling apology of a mud house.
Then the clouds burst and drowned him in a torrent of rains.
It was then that reality struck him: a one legged cancer ridden man was persona non grata.
©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #SPF #theunwanted #194words