Luminous Smiles and Lingering Hopes | Whispers on the Train 12

Recap: Every morning, Jayanthan’s train rattled to a halt at Poongudi, a station that marked the halfway point on his journey to Trichy. But Poongudi wasn’t just another stop – it was where Jyoti, a bright and cheerful hawker, brought a ray of sunshine into his day. Jayanthan began to believe a connection was blossoming. On a whim, sparked by Jyoti’s mention of Trichy, Jayanthan offered to take her there.

Part 2: Parallel Tracks:

Chapter 12/26: Luminous Smiles and Lingering Hopes

Relief washed over me as we returned to Trichy Junction after our day exploring the city. The cool evening air was a welcome change from the stuffy streets. The platforms echoed with an eerie silence, a stark contrast to the morning bustle. The overbridges, on both sides of the junction, standing empty, save for a few state buses lumbering by under their corrugated aluminum covers. Ceiling fans whirred pointlessly in the still air.

The tracks gleamed like molten gold, reflecting the setting sun. Ditches on either side silently guarded them, their water surfaces reflecting the sunlight where algae hadn’t taken hold. The reflected light danced across the platform roof, creating fleeting illusions of silver serpents. Empty platforms stretched before us, punctuated only by a few shunting engines. One hummed softly, its pitch rising and falling in a gentle rhythm.

The book stall and magazine cart stood closed, covered in tarpaulins. Postal staff pushed their carts along the concrete path that crossed the tracks, like fire ants carrying food on a mango branch. Jyoti and I used the familiar, slightly stinky underpass to reach the platforms where our train usually waited.

The empty carriages hadn’t arrived yet – we still had a good two hours to kill. The sprawling branches of a banyan tree beckoned us with cool shade. As we walked towards it, the melancholy of the deserted platform faded away, replaced by the rhythmic chirping of squirrels and the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze. We settled onto the base built around the tree, partially broken by the growth of its determined roots.

Jyoti, close behind me, looked tired but content. She stretched luxuriously, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “Thank you, Jayandhaa,” she said, her voice sounded kidding. “For keeping your promise.”

Warmth bloomed in my chest, not just from her words, but from the way she said them – the unspoken trust shining in her eyes. “It was my pleasure, Jyoti,” I replied, meeting her gaze. “Besides, how could I break a promise made under the watchful eyes of… well, everyone?”

Just as we sat down, a two-tailed sparrow swooped down, perched on a branch, and chirped a loud ‘kyivyiiv.’

A memory of the bustling market surfaced, a stark contrast to the quiet platform. That chaotic symphony of traders, lorries, laborers, overflowing dustbins with pungent odour of fermentation and city buses vibrated in my mind. We were constantly squeezed by the throngs of people, our shoulders bumping as we navigated the crowded lanes.

Jyoti’s way of selecting things was peculiar. She’d pick up a lemon, hold it with surprising reverence, and turn it over in her hands like Atlas holding a globe. Then, she’d put it back and move on to the next one. In a hushed voice, I compared her to Kili Josyam, the astrologer’s parrot, choosing a lucky card one by one. “Ey” a silent smile played on her lips. Something inside told me today would be different, but different how?

Her commentary flowed endlessly, a story for every sight – from ginger to garlic, dates to dried-fish. I responded with a steady stream of “umms,” “hmphs,” and “oh wow’s.” She didn’t seem to mind.

Perhaps she recognized a familiar face in the market. She nudged me to pretend I was a stranger buying goods at a nearby banana-leaf stall. A young man, someone she seemed to know, inquired about her presence over there. Jyoti managed him until he said goodbye, likely to avoid suspicion. Later she moved alone inside the market, to pretend as if she came alone, though he went outside the market already. While she was gone, I grabbed an ice cream cup from a nearby stall.

I plunged into the bustling market floor, overwhelmed by the cacophony of haggling. Jyoti stood before a mountain of colorful spices, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Jyoti!” I called, the ice cream cup threatening to melt in my hand. She spun around, her gaze darting towards the unforgiving sun that blazed directly overhead.

“Did you bring an umbrella?” she asked.

“No umbrella, why?”

“I think it’s going to rain.”

I looked up too. It was a clear blue sky, not a cloud in sight. “Rain? No way. It’ll be sunny all day.”

She disagreed. “No, it will rain. Today, unlike any other day, you called me by my name. It definitely will rain today.”

I gave her a bashful smile, and she burst out laughing. The market’s dirt and dust seemed to transform into rose petals and Kasturi attar.

Something inside me echoed her words. Today would be different. But different how? As I rewound our market encounter, the gentle touch of Jyoti’s hand on my shoulder brought me back to the present.

“What are you thinking so deeply about?” she asked, a few loose strands of hair dancing in the breeze. Startled by her voice, the sparrow fluttered down from the branch, landing with a soft thud. It dipped its brownish beak twice into the dusty floor, sending a puff of dirt scattering, before letting out a sharp ‘kyivyiiv!’

I said, “nothing” and smiled.

“Nothing?” something inside asked me.

(To be continued)

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