The Complaint

“The Sea was much better,” the traveler complained. “Whenever I got tired it at least had its currents to push me forward on my journey but you,” he looked at the vast desert surrounding him, “you are of no help.”

He went down on his knees, dead tired. When his breaths restored back to normalcy, a while later, he heard the desert’s voice. “I agree. I am of no help like the sea and thus I often depress people. But do you really think people will remember you for crossing the sea? Never! For the sea doesn’t allow you to leave any mark. I, on the contrary, do. Thus, if you cross me, I swear, you will in turn immortalize yourself with the imprints you leave over me!”

The traveler got the essence and got up to walk on.

“It’s always about the imprints,” his heart echoed.

~ Copyright © 2008 Novoneel Chakraborty

Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
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