The Invincible Moonsheen – Part-43 (Telugu Original “Venutiragani Vennela” by Dr K.Geeta)

The Invincible Moonsheen

Part – 43

(Telugu Original “Venutiragani Vennela” by Dr K.Geeta)

English Translation: V.Vijaya Kumar

(The previous story briefed)

Sameera comes to meet her mother’s friend, Udayini, who runs a women’s aid organization “Sahaya” in America. Sameera gets a good impression of Udayini. Four months pregnant, Sameera tells her that she wants to get a divorce and the circumstances are conducive to it. Udayini asks her to listen to the story of “Tanmayi” and pursue her to make her own decision after listening to the story. Tanmayi and Shekhar, who met at a wedding ceremony, go to marry with the permission of their elders. After the marriage they started their new life in Visakhapatnam. A boy was born to the couple in a year of their marriage. Tanmay engages in her studies deeply and enjoys the friendship with her colleagues forgetting all about her household disturbances. Her parents came to stay with her for a month while Shekhar is away on his long-term camp.

***

          “Your son is such a sweet boy! He seems to have gone out to play. When he comes back, he says ‘Namaste’ to me. He washes his feet and hands carefully, changes his clothes, and starts reading his books,” said Prabhu to Tanmayi.

Tanmayi, who had gone to the market for the second time because she had forgotten the curry leaves, wiped the sweat from her face and said to her son, “What’s up? Are you playing well?”

He frowned, looking as if he were studying seriously.

“Studying seriously in first grade? We never studied with such devotion!” Prabhu laughed, standing near the kitchen counter.

While Tanmayi was chopping onions, he said, “Can I help you?”

This was all new and surprising to Tanmayi. None of the men she knew had ever entered the kitchen! Her father would only drink water if her mother brought it to him. As for her in-laws, it was the same. As if it were wrong to eat with men, Shekhar’s mother would first serve all the men in the house. Only then could the women eat.

Shekhar never came into the kitchen or even chatted with her while she cooked. He would either sleep or go out with friends. She was beginning to understand that cooking and serving were seen as solely a woman’s responsibility.

She told this to Prabhu.

“Maybe your women never allowed us to come into the kitchen!” he said jokingly with a smile. “Move aside. I’ll cook for you today. You just help me.”

Looking at the neatly arranged spices on the small stand next to the stove, he exclaimed, “Oh my god! You’re the one who keeps the kitchen so organized!”

It didn’t occur to her that she didn’t even have a grinder or mixer until he asked. She was used to pounding ingredients with the pastel in the hallway, and for any heavy grinding, she borrowed from neighbors.

“What the hell! Mixies have been around for years, and you’re still adjusting with these stone-age things?” he said, surprised. Smirking, he added, “But don’t ask me to grind pulses—I’m afraid!”

She smiled at the mock expression on his face.

Suddenly, Taiba’s words came to mind: “Buy one thing per month, madam.”

She repeated them absentmindedly.

“Why one thing a month?” he asked immediately, understanding her helpless situation.

From behind her, she heard him softly call, “Tanmayi!”

She clearly felt a thin layer of tears in his eyes, and a sense of helplessness in his voice.

“Do not pity me, Prabhu,” she said.

“There is an unspeakable pain in knowing it,” he replied, sitting down next to her.

Looking at him, with tears in his eyes, she thought, “Oh, he has such a tender heart.”

After lunch, he stayed another hour and then got ready to leave. “I’ll go,” said Prabhu.

Tanmayi nodded silently. He seemed to be leaving with a heavy heart.

Not knowing whether to be happy or sad that he cared so much for her, she sat at the door with her head on her knees for a long time. Why did this man, who was showing so much concern for her, cry? Why did he come into her life so suddenly, without her consent? Her life had been miserable once. But now it had improved. All she wanted was a quiet, independent, courageous life, and to raise her son without worries. Was there anything in that to be pitied?

“I’ve longed to see you as a queen among jewels, to hold your hands without letting your feet touch the ground. What am I watching…”
A song from the TV in the opposite house drifted in.

She never knew Prabhu had adored her in his childhood. She never even remembered looking at any other boy—perhaps because Shekhar had been around her since the same age. Shekhar, who had said he liked her, eventually ruined her life. Karuna, who had once been friendly, turned selfish. Now, could she let Prabhu, who was approaching her with childhood admiration and pity, into her life—even as a friend?

“Am I inviting more problems into my already complicated life?” she wondered.

Mridul shook her anxiously. “Mom!”

“It’s okay, dear. I just have a bit of a headache.”
Getting up and taking him in her arms, she said, “Let’s go to sleep.

The next morning, Mridul woke up with a fever. She wrote a leave letter and sent Taiba to inform the office. Taiba told her there was a pediatrician near the bus stand. Just as she stepped out, it began drizzling. She waited by the roadside for a long time, but not a single rickshaw came. She started walking but felt tired after only a few steps.

It began raining heavily. She covered his shoulder with the towel from her handbag and tried to walk faster. The faster she wanted to move, the slower her legs felt. Grief overwhelmed her. She stood under the narrow eaves of a closed shop. There wasn’t even any place to sit—only dirt.

Holding the child, who was moaning on her shoulder, she kept murmuring, “Don’t be afraid, dear. I am here.” Even when the rain paused, no rickshaws came. After a helpless wait, she continued walking.

By the time they reached the hospital, they were exhausted. She found a small space on a crowded bench in the verandah.

She didn’t calm down until the doctor gave an injection and said, “There’s nothing to worry about.”

For the first time, she felt like she had someone to share her responsibilities.

Two days later, Mridul recovered.

She began searching more intensely for a second-hand two-wheeler.

A mechanic shop boy on her way to college shouted, “Ma’am!”
As she took two steps back, he said, “You asked about a second-hand two-wheeler? Someone wants to sell one for twelve thousand.”

Seeing her hesitation, he added, “Madam, don’t worry about it being an old one. Whatever repairs it needs in a year, I’ll take care of it.”

But that wasn’t her worry. Where would she get twelve thousand?

She told him the same.

“I’ll arrange you the last price—eleven and a half thousand. After that, it’s up to you,” he said.

When she was signing the attendance register, the clerk said, “A registered parcel has arrived, ma’am,” and handed it to her.

“Where did such a large parcel come from?” She turned it around to check the address.

Seeing the name Prabhu, she was surprised.

What could he have sent? She sat at her desk and opened it.

Inside were a hundred typewritten pages, bound neatly, titled “Computer Basics”.

She couldn’t help admiring his effort—small chapters with pictures, simple English, everything easy to understand.

A handwritten note slipped out from the middle.

Tanu!

The dream of calling you this has come true after many years.
I’ve been working day and night to prepare this material for you. I hope it helps you understand computers easily and teach your students confidently. If you have any doubts, ask me freely. (I hope I can receive a letter from you!)

Yes… will you remember me anytime?

Don’t tell me, “I’m busy with my son,” and forget me.
How is he? He’s a very polite boy—just like you.
When I came the other day, I asked him, “Where does your father live?”
“I don’t know,” he said seriously, bowing his head and continuing his homework.

It touched my heart—such maturity in a small boy.
Congratulations on raising him so well.

It’s already midnight. The world is sleeping.
But as I write this, you are right in front of me.
It feels like I’m talking to you.

Though I must get up early and run after buses to reach work, I still feel like staying awake all night talking to you.

You are here!

Even if your eyes don’t close, time won’t listen to your warning.

I take leave.

Yours,
Prabhu

She folded the letter and pressed it to her heart.

Tanu!
How long her heart had waited to hear that!

Though his handwriting was not good, the words were beautiful. She read them again and again.

She had written such lovely letters to Shekhar once, eagerly hoping he would reply the same way. But he never understood her feelings.

“You always write ‘Kadu!’ in your letters. What does that even mean? Is it yes? Or no?”

She had laughed at his ignorance then. For years, she wrote to him thinking he understood. He didn’t even know the meaning of Kadu.

But Prabhu’s words kept circling in her mind…
“You are here!”

Throughout the day, whenever she had free time between classes, she kept pulling out the material and reading it. Each time, for some reason, she felt the need to read the letter first.

Before leaving college, the typist said, “Today is the first installment of the chit. Taiba said you need it. Are you attending, madam?”

She replied, “I hope so, but I don’t know anything about it.”

“Don’t worry, madam. I’ll take care of it. You just have to be present.”

When the participants gathered, the chit started with an initial amount of 500.

1500… 3000… 6000… 6500…

The typist whispered, “Add another five hundred.”

When Tanmayi said “Seven thousand,” the room went silent.

Everyone congratulated her as if she had won something.

The typist counted ₹13,000 and placed it in her hand.

People clapped.

Tanmayi felt nervous. She now had to pay ₹1000 every month for twenty months. She already had another chit in Margadarshi.

Her monthly salary barely covered her basic expenses. Now she could only visit her parents once a year.

“Am I being too hasty in buying a two-wheeler?” she wondered as she walked home.

*****

(Continued next month)