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Mansukh stood at the base of the mountain.

It was now or never.

The brown feet in his brown sandals hesitated. His shapely toes dug into the soft leather. This was hardly recommended footwear for a self-proclaimed ascetic.

Men who renounced the world, discarded all its comforts and pleasures. But Mansukh’s flat footedness rendered him an exception to the rule.

He cradled in his arms a round bundle. A few odd necessities for the arduous journey. Climbing a mountain was new to him. So he could be excused a few items of convenience.

The first step was the most difficult. But the second slightly easier.

Mansukh had only taken twenty steps when he felt a slight rumble.

It was his sensitive stomach. His gut had always been a nuisance.

But health was wealth, and a mountain couldn’t be climbed on an empty stomach.

The knot was tighter than usual, but Mansukh’s fingers pried through, and out spilled the delicious smell of his mother’s cooking.

Stuffed flat bread and pickle. He wished he had some curd too.

But a hermit didn’t complain. It opposed his basic nature.

Five minutes was all it took. Mansukh licked his fingers clean and wiped away the oily residue with some tissue.

This material sin could be forgiven.

Up on his feet, Mansukh felt more prepared for the steep ascent.

One, two, three…

He counted his nimble steps. And at thirty-five, he was panting.

A hearty meal always made him tired and drowsy.

The mountain could wait. He deserved some rest.

With the bundle as his pillow, Mansukh slept for hours.

Only to be awakened by a woman’s loud shouts.

‘Mansukh! Son! It’s time for dinner!’

The fifteen-year-old boy rubbed his eyes and hurried back, retracing his measured steps.

His yogic pursuits could wait until tomorrow.

A Master At Reverse Psychology – She knew how to get a reaction out of him. Making him believe he was in control.

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14 Comments on “Yogic Pursuits – Flash Fiction Story

  1. There’s quite a lot to love here!
    You write with a rich imagination, and an obvious infatuation with language.

    • Thank you Shobana. One story, many thoughts and contemplation. So thoughtful of you. I must now live up to this wise reputation. 🙂

  2. Pingback: My Lack Of Understanding - Flash Fiction Story | It Ain't Right Till I Write

  3. I loved the cleverness of this story. It reminded me of the wide-eyed innocence that goes hand-in-hand with exploration and imagination when you’re young (although I guess I’m not much older than Mansukh XD). Me and my older sister used to love to play games where we convinced ourselves that we were master spies or professional chefs at a restaurant. The game would often end when it became a little too real: one of our favourite games was called the school game where she played a teacher and I played her student. However, it wasn’t as fun anymore when she started to give me real life homework to do too 😊 This was one of my favourite surprise endings of yours, I really didn’t see it coming and in one short line it completely changed the direction of the entire story. Thank you for another cute, heart-warming read!

    • Ah! The bliss of childhood games and their never-ending wonder. My dear, age is just a number, you are a wise soul. I remember my childhood as a time of limitlessly stretching the imagination. Even though now, my imagination still runs wild.
      Elder sisters can be intimidating. 🙂
      I’m glad you liked this one. It has a fresh innocence to it. And thank you for taking out time to write and share your perspective. I know you are a busy young lady with so much to do and achieve.

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