Lokman, whose story is being told here, is a living creature of the world. This Lokman said to himself, "Age is measured by age." How old are you today and eighty years old? I say - even here and anywhere, now and always, age does not mean that a person is old.

People grow old either by dying of aspirations or by forgetting to dream. But what do you think, the fools of the world do not understand the inner core of things as I do. That's why they look at me and touch me. And, in a hoarse voice, they chatter - 'You are old. Get off your feet, and get out of our way. Listening to them makes me angry. Look, leave me today! I will not leave the road even that much.'

Lokman has become old to be in the public eye, a really shabby old man. His eyebrows almost swelled up. His cheeks are wrinkled. There is not a single tooth left in his mouth. He has only a few hairs on his bald head. His eyes are getting blurry.

His back is bent. His voice is beginning to waver. His memory is shaky. Yet the obstinate folk are concentrated on stubbornly insatiable aspirations. He says, "I want to be the prime minister again." I will not leave the road even that much!'

Lokman has become the prime minister not once but four times in a short span of time. While hoping for the throne of the Prime Minister, how many longing souls ended up disappointed. How many sad people who were standing in the roll died while standing. How many Kuruas died of thirst when they did not get their turn. However, Lokman's wish has not yet been reached. He knows very well from his own experience that high positions of power are admired, respected, measured, respected and praised. These Panchatattvas have knots, terrible intoxication.

compulsive intoxication, intoxicating intoxication, never-satisfying intoxication. Intoxication that kills conscience! Drunken Lokman lamented - 'If there is no arena for whipping, what will be the condition of gambling for twelve months? If there is no horse, what will happen to the daily rider? And if there is no mattress of power, what will be the mood of a mere power lover? There is a burning desire in the mind, there is no mattress of power under the buttocks. This life without a high position of power, what is life!'

The old man Lokman, snorting and gnawing his beard, resolved - 'I will not die without being a one-man prime minister again!

Lokman's ears started ringing with the unpleasant voice of a person he didn't like. Hey! How many voices and how hoarse! When listening to it, Mathingal felt a pang of anger. The disagreeable voice of the disliked one said, 'Marijane is a Juni. When you die, at least give up your desire to become the prime minister.' Another voice who didn't like

said, 'Do you know how many times you have missed? If this is the trick, understand that when you die, you should be able to breathe.' Another unpleasant voice said, 'You have become a shabby old man. If you had even a little of that, your imagination was wasted, your creativity was zero. You don't have an iota of foresight, nor an iota of vision. You have no sense of faith or shame left in you. So either you leave the road, or you will be chased.'

Lokman's anger flared up when he heard that war was going on in such a war. And, in the language of threats, he said to himself, 'Am I old? At night! Anyone who dares with me? Ah Rattai!' Lokman blew his nose, took a look, yawned and spat out pitch. "Only me?" Lokman was shocked.

Teng Chiring has climbed the summit of Everest ten times. Why doesn't anyone say to Ulla, "It's enough, don't climb the stove anymore"? Football took Ronaldo to forty years. Why doesn't anyone say to Ulla, "It's enough, you stop playing football"? Rajesh Hamal might have taken a sixty. Why doesn't anyone tell Ulla, 'It's enough, you stop acting now'? Just ask me to sacrifice? Ajit didn't stop echoing in Ajit's ears that people who don't like

don't like it. Leave the road! Give up! When you die, you will be able to breathe! The future generation will call Padalup Lumpat! There is no wisdom, no vision, no cleverness, no power to rule. Why not be ashamed of the position when dying? Why did this world laugh?'

The impact of hoarse voices became unbearable for Lokman. Talked like this, said 'old man'! He said that, "old man"! No matter what he said, he said 'old', he said. Lokman's universe started burning with rage. In Southi's voice, he lamented - 'Am I old? Don't they see America with their broken eyes? Eighty-year-old man is enjoying such a great democracy of America.

Eighty-year-old Joe Biden and eighty-year-old Donald Trump? And why can't an eighty-year-old man rule such a small democracy in Nepal? I will show these women away.'' Lokman lit a cigarette, blowing his nose. His heart's sighs and sighs mingled with the smoke of the cigarette and flew away in a whisper. 

Lokman muttered inwardly - 'Is that what happens to the Prime Minister? It is due to the contribution of being the Prime Minister. By ability. By personality. By public opinion. It is because of the faith of the country. If you show me that you have asthma, then you will tell me to leave the road? Lose the competition, and complain to me? I won't quit, Laja. You keep grumbling. you cry You will die of thirst. Has a beggar ever got the post of prime minister by begging?' 

These are the polite things that can be said to the grumblers. He has a secret that he can tell only himself. This is the special reason for Lokman Marimit to become the prime minister again. 'What will be my status after death?' Lokman is constantly grieving in a worried posture.

'Ah, what will be the status of my dignity, honor and glory after death?' Lokman knows very well what will be his status if he dies while holding the post of Prime Minister? What will be Murray's position while he is out of office, is his deepest concern. "I was able to see my status after death like this after dying..." Lokman felt emotional. Without telling, Lokman died in his dream. Now dead Lokman's attention was concentrated on one thing. How much is Malami's Lavalaskar? Will there be a salute from the military unit? And the wave of the cannon will be a sky-piercing thunder - or not?

The post-mortem rituals began. Lokman's body was placed in an open courtyard for public viewing. Lokman's dead body was tied to a raw bamboo mat. One end of the conch rose to the sky, and the corpse was driven towards the ghat. In a dramatic performance, Lokman is very careful and listens every moment by tapping his ears. His taste is in the number of malami. He hears Malami whispering - 'Kanti na holan bhaya, Malami is thin and thin. Even when a Bhupu minister dies, this is not the case.' According to Lokman, the ultimate purpose of all life's endeavors, especially after death, is to collect wealth. 'That effort was done, so much?' Lokman muttered with grief. He pressed his ears and listened— neither the army saluted, nor the sky could hear the roar of the cannon. Another woman's whisper touched Lokman's ears - 'The old man is very unpopular, man. Look at this move after death!' Hearing that, dead Lokman fainted.