Sanjay was an ugsome, docile idiot; he miserably survived only through his neighbors' ahimsa. He flubdub paraded through the slums in his khaddar smock embroidered with haomas, the kecking stench of myiasis barely camouflaged with greasy dollops of skatole. Rajiv the speculator was heard to cleverly observe "Sanjay cannot differentiate between ennui and ataraxia; that is his problem, his fear and solution." Sanjay earned a beggar's subsistence by staging dharnas outside the doors of the city's wealthiest merchants. He spent his days weaving elaborate enoki and dandelion snoods, which he modeled to the amusement of passing pedestrians. "I am an acyclic ewer, a rubber spewer; I equalize and fraternize." This was his neanthropic chant, forgettable.
