A traveller’s dilemma



Meha opened the travelogue after eighteen months of her marriage. All the enriching memories cascaded before her eyes. Travelling was one passion she had followed religiously.

Four years before her marriage, she had decided not to stay at home for long. So after spending four months with her parents, each time she would pack her bags and leave with an itinerary in her hand, passion in her heart and thrill in her eyes.

This picture of Venice still had those iconic words written under it “My Next destination.” These words created ripples in her heart in great measure. But how contradictory was the serenity of the pic with her present chaotic life.

Whenever she raises the topic of solo travelling, she gets mocked at by her in laws. Although her husband had approved of her travelling plans but he failed in convincing his parents.

And here she is today with the travelogue in her hand. Her travelogue was obviously not eaten by the moths but yes her travel dreams and fantasies did get devour by the narrow mindedness of the society.

It seems another lady traveller’s feet got adorned by anklets of traditions, norms and rituals of marriage.

Word count : 198

Thanks for the wonderful picture prompt :  TellTaleThursday with Anshu & Priya

pic courtesy : pixabay


Where’s my master ?

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And I turned around with my freshly produced saliva-coated rubber ball in my jaws. Thinking of incentives with a nice pat on my head and a tickle on my neck, I trotted out of that nasty icy cold stream. My legs felt like icicles.

“I won’t step into this thing again but what if my master throws this ball again here. Argh !”

As I landed on the dry spot, I could not see my master. He was just here standing on this very spot few minutes before.

“Yes, I can smell his chocolaty scent.” I jumped left and right calling out for my seven year old master.

But I am confused. Another strong stinky smell is getting mixed up. Has the master been abducted??? This slight notion raised up all my hair on my back, my heartbeat elevated. I started jumping and calling him at my highest pitch.

After the shouts I stay still, silent, holding my breath to listen to my master’s response but to no avail.

“ Woof Woof ! To hell with the ball.” I lunged and followed my master’s shoeprints and that distinct smell.

“I am going to rip the kidnapper apart.”

198 words

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Read my previous posts here : A night of freedomThe unrequited loveThe bubble

Written for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Week #38– 2018.