The loose ends of the thin, uncoiled white rope indicated, that the jetty had seen better days. There were no boats to be moored. It still managed to hold the tides, and control littoral deposits. The coastline was protected against erosion. But, there was nobody there to acknowledge the contribution. The timber was gradually wearing off, and required maintenance.
Anand often came there for a walk in the evening. He still considered himself to be the patriarch of a non-existent clan. The members had moved away to lead their own lives, and paid him notional respect, if they happened to come face-to-face. He looked back at his own journey through life. The bonds that held the family together had gradually disappeared, like the timber poles on the sides, as Anand walked towards the shore. He thought of all the boats he had missed, and the clarion calls which he had chosen to ignore. He chose to stay put in the same place, and it was perhaps a wrong choice.
The fishermen stopped on their morning jaunt, to see a human body washed ashore. Anand had taken the boat to another world. The white rope hung loose, weak and lifeless ….
Inspired by Sunday Photo Fiction – March 26th, 2017