Chopping the coloured bell-peppers, zucchini etc with metronomic precision and the
wrinkled hands deposited the juliennes into the bowl. A magazine lay on the table.
“Jennifer, is everything okay in office?” the senior lady enquired.
“Yes of course”.
“Something is troubling you, right?” more of a statement.
Jennifer’s deep breath is an indication of her internal suffocation and her propensity to
keep matters to herself.
“Mama, my team-mate is placing hurdles at every level”.
The senior lady widened her eyes indicating her to continue.
“She hogs the limelight and takes credit of my work”.
Mama tilting her head to her left side asks Jennifer to concentrate on the picture in the
“The battle-tank is an armament of attack as well as defence. Every human has an in-
built defence and attack mechanism in their body. When attacked, try to defend yourself
or attack the person with ferocity to defend yourself. Bring out the guns. If you don’t
fight for yourself, no-one will”.
(Photo courtesy A Mixed Bag.)
Mama sighs and the battle that she fought for alimony and child-maintenance re-winded
in the spool of her memory.
“Here, eat your greens. Antioxidants strengthen your body”.
Survival of the fittest is the mantra.
written for : Sunday Photo Fiction
word count : 196