Tell me a story

Krishnan was born after the great deluge. He can't remember the day, year or time. Shockingly, his parents don't either, mostly because they couldn't count days or tell time. Krishnan worked for my great grandfather, pulled his rickshaw to work and back. He carried my family on his shoulders, I guess.
Krishnan told me stories, mostly fabricated. He once raced a train, lugging the rickshaw with my grandfather holding firm, and won. He was the fastest, meanest and most decorated rickshaw puller of his time. Other times, he told me about how a town had to be built every few miles so that bullocks could be rested in the days before buses and trains.
Some say Krishnan was born old but unlike Benjamin Button, he remained old. He had no teeth but he had the gift of the gab. He was my shah of blah, a man from a time forgotten, steeped in a sea of stories.