Yardstick of Courage | Whispers on the Train 25

Recap: Jyoti, the cheerful food vendor, always brightened Jayanthan’s day at the Poongudi train stop. But their love hit a wall. Her brother wouldn’t approve, and Jayanthan even struggling for a better job in the city. Just as hope faded, Jyoti’s brother, without her consent, set her wedding with someone else. This made Jayanthan fight for their love…

Part 3: Final whistle

Chapter 25/26: Yardstick of courage

The commotion drew the grandmother, her steps measured as she approached. Her eyes scanned me, then settled on Mrs. Mangalam. “His mother?” she inquired, her voice laced with curiosity. Her thandatti earring, flowed gracefully behind her.

Mrs. Mangalam stepped forward, a glint in her eye. “Me? We all wear different hats in life, don’t we? Let me wear this one too. Not just for him, but for both of them.”

The old woman’s brow furrowed in confusion. “If you accept, her real mother will come,” Mrs Mangalam declared.

Keerthivasan, seizing the opportunity, came in, later introduced himself as a lawyer, explained her the situation calmly, his voice a soothing balm on the tense atmosphere.

Karuna, his face stormy with stubborn defiance, bellowed, “What are you doing here? We were having a discussion!”

The old woman, her voice weak but laced with surprising firmness, cut through the tension. “This is their choice, sir,” she addressed Keerthivasan, her gaze politely but firmly bypassing Karuna’s outburst. “If the girl agrees, no one can stop her. He clearly being unfair and rude, that’s his nature” she added, her voice a faint challenge directed at Karuna. “Are we truly going to threaten a grown woman? That will only push her away.”

Her gaze landed on Thangamma with a weak but determined nod. “Bring her out, let her have her say.” A bony finger, surprisingly steady despite her age, pointed towards me. “This nonsense ends now. If she refuses,” her voice dropped to a weak but icy tone, “you leave immediately. Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll have to make Karuna fulfill his obligations.”

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Would she dare? Would she defy the expectations, fear for her brother, the societal pressures, to choose love?

As Thangamma ushered Jyoti forward, a hush fell over the small gathering. Footsteps. My breath hitched. Jyoti appeared in the doorway, eyes lowered, her hand resting on the jamb.

The parrot swooped overhead, landing on the thatched roof with a clatter of wings.

Tears welled up in my eyes. Here she was, the one I’d searched for tirelessly on Poongudi’s streets and deserted train platforms, my heart heavy, my thoughts a jumbled mess. This was the face I longed to see when loneliness gnawed at me in my bachelor room back home.

My pillows and blankets held the silent tears I cried for Jyoti. Nightmares mocked my every weakness, especially my inability to keep my promise of offering her a helping hand before she drowned.

Her downcast eyes mirrored the Padmapani of Ajanta, its usual compassion replaced by worry. But there were no tears. Her once flushed cheeks sported a dark rash that framed her sorrowful eyes. The toll, this separation had taken on her, was evident. Love, how ruthlessly it could steal everything! Uncontrollable tears welled up, blurring my vision. While I wiped them discreetly, I heard it.

“I love him,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. “I can’t live without him.”

The tension shattered. The world around us dissolved into a burst of emotions, as vibrant and varied as the shades of a Kandangi saree. Relief washed over me like a tidal wave, leaving me weak and breathless. A collective sigh of relief escaped the handful of observers, drowning out Jyoti’s brother’s protests. The old woman smiled, a silent nod of approval.

Suddenly, Karuna lunged forward, his face contorted in rage. “No!” he roared, reaching for Jyoti. But before he could touch her, Thangamma intervened, her voice booming with authority. “Step back, please. This is their choice, and they’ve spoken.”

Karuna’s defiance sputtered out. The witnesses roared their approval, their voices echoing Thangamma’s unwavering stance. My boss, Mrs. Mangalam, squeezed my shoulder, her pride evident. Mr. Keerthivasan tried to calm Karuna further, but his posture was noticeably relaxed. Jyoti, standing tall beside Thangamma, finally allowed a hopeful smile to grace her lips.

Thangamma stood firm, her expression unreadable yet her presence radiating power. A few steps away, Mrs. Mangalam’s gaze met hers, a grateful smile softening the corners of her lips. It was a silent exchange, speaking volumes of unspoken thanks and unspoken admiration. These two strong women dominated the scene. Their silent language, a shared understanding, made me recall Jyoti’s earlier hope for the two guardian angels, the Kannimars. Could Jyoti have been the one pulling the strings all along, like a puppeteer controlling us? The thought struck me with a jolt.

As Jyoti met my gaze, finally, a soul-deep love washed over me, threatening to engulf us entirely. Her determined eyes, locked onto mine, which was glistening with tears. The invisible distance between us seemed to shrink with each silent beat of our hearts, as if our souls reached out to caress each other in the open air.

A single tear, not of fear this time but of overflowing happiness, welled up in Jyoti’s lower eyelid. It didn’t trace a path down her cheek, but instead, plopped silently onto the doorsteps.

Just then, the parrot squawked, “Ayo it is so blushing for me yeh!” It took flight, soaring diagonally against the rising sun. Its screech, “Kreeyeh.. Kreeyeh..,” echoed repeatedly across the summer sky.

(To be continued)

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