Nearing the Brink | Whispers on the Train 14

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 took her there. He felt something was different within him that day.

Part 2: Parallel Tracks:

Chapter 14/26: Nearing the Brink

“He’s a dreamer!” Chataka lost patience and hissed into Chataki’s ears.

Chataki, fluffing its feathers into a round ball, chirped hopefully, “Today will be different, I still think so.”

Chataka paced back and forth, muttering to itself, “Perhaps her hope is true. These human worms are fools for love, easy to understand.”

Lost in thought, I fumbled with the words I wanted to reply to Jyoti. Sensing my turmoil, she raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, a nervous smile tugging at my lips. “There’s a surprise, Jyoti,” I said. “To make it even more special, close your eyes for a moment.”

Jyoti chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh, so secretive, are we?” she teased. “Alright then, surprise me.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut, like a delicate pearl oyster closing its shell. My fingers fumbled with the zipper of my bag, the sound barely a whisper. Reaching inside, I gently retrieved the gift and placed it in her waiting hands.

A moment of blissful silence followed. She opened her eyes gently like a reader opens a page in a novel, revealing wide eyes filled with surprise as she saw the double-hued saree. Emerald green adorned the body, while the brownish pallu waved with elephant design and border shimmered with annapakshi motifs guarded by repeated chevron pattern. Like a curious child, she unfolded the saree fold-after-fold, corner-after-corner, a delighted smile blooming on her lips as she traced the intricate designs.

Her fingers roamed over the fabric, a kaleidoscope of emotions flitting across her face. Finally, she met my gaze, a meaningful smile gracing her lips. The setting sun cast long shadows, its golden rays catching the shimmering threads of the saree.

After a moment, she asked softly, “Is this for me?”

A familiar warmth bloomed in my chest. Sometimes, we ask questions despite knowing the answer. Why? I don’t know. Perhaps it’s the comfort of hearing the words spoken aloud, a way to lull our doubts and anxieties to sleep. I often asked such questions to Jyothi too. Jyoti’s voice, especially, had that calming effect on me.

“I have no one else here, Jyoti,” I replied.

The Jyoti before me seemed different – speechless, captivated. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“There’s a reason we always meet by the banyan tree and the trains, Jyoti,” I mused. “It felt like the perfect place to give you my first gift. But I wasn’t sure how you’d react…”

Before I could finish, she shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “There’s a Tamil blessing associated with this banyan tree,” she explained, her voice soft as rustling leaves. “‘Aal pol thazhaithu‘ (to sprout more leaves like the banyan) – to grow strong with hundred branches and a thousand arial roots, just like our relationship. How could I refuse a gift with such meaning?”

A wave of peace washed over me as I watched her fingers caress the delicate fabric.

A brief silence settled before she continued. “Let’s keep it with you for now,” she said. I nodded, sensing her unspoken worries. “There will come a day for both of us.” Jyoti paused, her gaze holding mine in a way that spoke volumes of acceptance. Then, with a soft smile, she finished, “and I’ll wear it then.” Jyoti’s words carried an unwavering vow, unspoken but deeply felt.

“Sounds like a promise,” I said, my voice husky.

“Perhaps it is,” she replied, her eyes locking with mine in a way that sent shivers down my spine. “But promises can be difficult to keep.”

The air crackled with unspoken tension. I leaned closer, the space between us shrinking. “Not all promises,” I murmured, my breath warm against her cheek.

Her lips parted slightly, a hesitant breath escaping them. My heart hammered in my chest, anticipation coursing through me. This was it, the moment I’d been waiting for, the culmination of stolen glances and shared smiles.

Then, she pulled back, her eyes searching mine. “It’s not easy, Jayandhaa,” she whispered. “You understand, don’t you?”

Disappointment stabbed at me, but I forced a smile. “I understand,” I said, my voice hoarse. “But my feelings for you are strong, Jyoti, stronger than any obstacle.”

She studied me intently, a complex mix of emotions swirling in her gaze. Finally, she nodded, a ghost of a smile touched her lips.

A wave of contentment washed over me, mirrored in the warmth that radiated from Jyoti’s eyes. It felt like a marigold petal, imbued with unspoken promises, had gently torn through a veil that had long separated us. Reaching for her hand, our fingers brushed, sparking a silent promise of a connection waiting to bloom. The gloom that had settled upon my heart this morning seemed to dissipate entirely.

“I told you!” Chataki screeched, taking flight in a flurry of feathers. “Today was different!” Chataka’s confessing cry pierced the air, ‘Kyivyiiv!’ He took flight, a flurry of feathers against the amber twilight sky. With a playful chirp, Chataki swooped down, nudging Chataka playfully with her wing before playfully grabbing his beak. They soared and dipped together, a joyous dance celebrating the promise whispered between us.

(To be continued)

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