the Station Master looked at me like I was an idiot, “yes, TC… Ticket Collector”
What do you mean 550 rupees? You said 100!
It was like one of those moments in a Western movie, when the bad guy walks into the saloon; the piano player stops and everyone turns to look.
The rabble didn’t care, and laughed and joked as they completely ignored the soldier.
When the repairs had been completed, fresh disaster struck!