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A Golden Yellow Apple, by Sankar Chatterjee

20/11/2017

 
With recent political and social upheavals taking place inside his own country, John felt a need for a break. He wanted to get away from everyday unsettling developments, while trying to regain his own faith in humanity. He remembered about his friend Amitava from graduate school days. After earning his doctoral degree, Amitava went back to his native land to teach in a university in a small town, nestled inside the western Himalayan range lined with ancient snow-capped mountaintops. John wrote to Amitava, got an invitation to visit, and soon appeared at his doorsteps. On a gorgeous day, two old friends decided to embark on a hike on a steep mountain trail that snaked through pine forests and apple orchards arriving at a Buddhist pagoda. Once in a while, the trail would get shrouded with rolling mountain clouds, while long-tailed Himalayan magpies would fly overhead. Soon, they passed through a small village, populated by the Tibetan refugees, exiled from their occupied homeland. Inside the village, colorful prayer flags crisscrossed above the trail.

From the village, the trail went up another few kilometers. By this time, John already started to feel a sense of serenity he had been craving for past several months. Suddenly, around a corner of the trail, there appeared an old lady carrying a hand-made wicker basket on her back. Looking at the complex lines on her face, she could be anywhere between ninety and hundred years old. Amitava spoke a few words in the local language to her. She stopped, unbuckled her back-basket, took out a couple of golden yellow apples and handed one to each of them to taste the sweetness. Amitava explained to John that the lady would collect all those wild apples to sell in the market of the town at the foot of the mountain. However she refused to take any money, while requesting them to offer a prayer on her behalf in the temple.

While changing his flight in London en route to this country, John had picked up that day’s issue of the newspaper Guardian. One of the headlines blared “A recent analysis of the financial wealth of the world revealed that 1% of the world’s richest now own the 50% of world’s wealth”. For a while now, the major economists from reputed academic institutions have been warning about the future consequences of such a disparity in the global wealth distribution. They could foresee the breakdown of the social order, violence, and war breaking out amongst neighboring nations.

But on this autumn day, surrounded by the nature turned into a rainbow due to colorful fall foliage amidst the tranquility of the Himalayan Mountains, John learned the true meaning of sharing. A poverty-stricken lady from an ancient civilization with her face adorned with lines of wisdom taught him that the lamp of humanity would always flicker at different corners of this world amongst the poorest of us, even though a handful of rich would remain only materialistically wealthy.

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    Friday Flash Fiction is primarily a site for stories of 100 words or fewer, and our authors are expected to take on that challenge if they possibly can. Most stories of under 150 words can be trimmed and we do not accept submissions of 101-150 words.


    However, in response to demand, the FFF team constructed this forum for significantly longer stories of 151-500 words. Please send submissions for these using the Submissions Page.

    Stories to the 500 word thread will be posted as soon as we can mange.

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    One little further note. Posting and publishing 500-word stories takes a little time if they need to be formatted, too.
    ​Please note that we tend to post longer flash fiction exactly as we find it – wrong spacing, everything.

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