One Family’s Journey, One Decision — And the True Rules of LTC ✈️
Raghunath was fifty years old. A peon working in one government office in Koraput, he had spent nearly thirty years walking government corridors silently. He opened chambers before meetings, carried confidential files, arranged chairs before inspections, and stood respectfully near doors while officers discussed policy. His name rarely appeared on official orders. But his presence was everywhere.
He had been eligible for Leave Travel Concession many times in his service. He had never taken it. There was always something more urgent — school fees, medicines,Home Loan, Insurance, roof repairs, marriage contributions, small debts. Travel was a luxury meant for later. Later kept moving.
One afternoon in the Accounts Section, while placing tea on a table, he heard the Head Clerk explaining to a young employee:
“LTC can be taken anytime. But once availed, next only after ten years. Maximum three times in entire service. And remember — only point-to-point travel fare is reimbursed. No hotel, no food, no local travel. Claim must be submitted within one month after return.”
Raghunath paused. Ten years. He was fifty. If he took LTC now, the next opportunity would come at sixty. Would his parents still be strong enough to travel then?
Before leaving office, he asked quietly, “Babu… I have never taken LTC. Am I still eligible?” The Head Clerk nodded. “Yes. Any Government servant can apply. Declare your destination at least 45 days before the journey if you want to take up to 90% advance of the estimated fare.”
That night, during dinner, he mentioned it gently. “Babu said we can travel anywhere in India under LTC.” His son’s eyes widened. “Hyderabad! Ramoji Film City!” His wife smiled. “Or Chennai… Marina Beach.” For a few minutes, their small house felt larger than Koraput itself. They imagined long train journeys, photos in big cities, stories to tell neighbors. Raghunath watched quietly. He did not stop the happiness.
Later that night, after everyone slept, he sat with a notebook. Koraput to Hyderabad. Koraput to Chennai. Five train tickets — reimbursed. But five days in a big city? Hotel for five. Meals for five. Local transport. Entry tickets. Unexpected expenses. All from his salary.
He recalculated. If he travelled only with his wife and son, maybe he could manage Hyderabad or Chennai. But if he included his aging parents, the expenses would rise beyond his reach. And once he availed LTC, he would have to wait ten years. Ten years. His father’s hands trembled slightly these days. His mother walked slowly, holding the wall for balance. He closed the notebook quietly.
The next week, he submitted his application. Destination declared: Puri. He applied more than 45 days before the journey. He requested 90% advance for the estimated train fare. Leave was sanctioned. Some colleagues smiled. “Why not go outside Odisha? LTC is anywhere in India.” Raghunath smiled gently. “Anywhere includes here too.”
They travelled by train to Puri. Sleeper class. Steel tiffin carriers packed from home. They stayed for five days in a modest lodge. They visited: Puri beach at sunrise, Konark Sun Temple, Local Mathas, Chilika Lake. They spent carefully. But they lived fully.
On the third evening, his father stood silently at Puri beach, watching the waves roll in. “I never thought I would travel again at this age,” he said softly.
Raghunath felt something settle inside him. If he had waited for something bigger… this moment might never have happened.
After returning, he carefully arranged: Train tickets, Leave approval, Required forms. Within one month, Raghunath submitted his claim. No inflated bills. No false declarations. Only point-to-point fare. The Head Clerk processed it and said casually, “You could have gone far.” Raghunath replied quietly, “I went where I could take everyone.”, His decision to choose Puri over big cities like Hyderabad or Chennai was questioned by many. But standing there with his elderly parents, watching the waves, he knew he had made the right choice.
Years later, the framed photograph from Puri still hung on the wall. Five people standing by the sea. His father was no more now. His mother rarely stepped outside. His son, now older, once looked at the photograph and said softly, “Bapa… I’m glad we didn’t go to Hyderabad.”
Raghunath did not reply. He remembered how small he had felt while calculating expenses. He remembered the disappointment in his son’s face that night. He had thought he was choosing the smaller option. Now he understood. He had chosen the only option that would still matter.
At sixty, Raghunath might finally visit the distant cities, but the seat next to him in the train will be empty. Life is the ultimate investment, and some plans cannot be deferred. No government rule reimburses missed time. LTC allows travel anywhere in India. But life does not give “anywhere” forever.
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