The Invincible Moonsheen – Part-45 (Telugu Original “Venutiragani Vennela” by Dr K.Geeta)

The Invincible Moonsheen

Part – 45

(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.

***

As soon as her pre-PhD exams were over, she left the university and went to her master’s house.

“How are you, Tanmayi? Is Babu doing well?” The master’s wife greeted her warmly.

Right away, Mary brought her kid there.

“Oh, he’s getting taller,” said the master, looking at him with delight.

Seeing their affection, she closed her eyes and thought to herself, What will become of couples like these? Such people are rare. I am lucky enough to receive this, perhaps only through meritorious deeds in my previous birth.

In fact, Tanmayi does not believe in virtues and vices.

But for some reason, it felt that way.

It is true that everything happens because of human effort. She did not know whether it was true or not, but this was definitely a gift she had received.

About an hour later, when she was about to get up, Tanmayi noticed the scrolling text on the television. It was a local channel. She heard that local channels had started recently.

The advertisement said that a person with both kidneys damaged needed blood of a negative blood group for an operation. Tanmayi knew how rare that blood group was. She quickly got up and wrote down the address and phone number. She handed the child to Mary and got into an auto to go to the address.

As soon as she reached the hospital and explained why she had come, a woman who had been waiting there eagerly rushed toward her.

From her attire and dress code, Tanmayi could tell that she was Bengali. The woman folded both her hands in gratitude and greeted her.

After the blood draw was finished, Tanmayi accepted the juice she was given and asked, “Can I see the patient I’m giving blood to?”

When she went inside, the woman who had been sitting outside until then followed her. The patient in the ICU was probably in his forties. He had lost both kidneys and was scheduled for a transplant that night. They said they could not get blood until the last minute for the operation, which was to take place in a few hours. Breathing heavily, he spoke softly in English.

Since his wife did not know any language other than Bengali, she communicated with him through her eyes. Tanmayi was overwhelmed with grief, realizing that this was the first time she had seen a man in the ICU. The wife was suffering terribly for him.

When Tanmayi was about to leave, they asked for her address. After returning, Tanmayi felt that her own suffering was very small compared to theirs.

The biggest problem in life is the loss of life. The husband struggling to live while fighting death, and the wife experiencing hell every moment with the fear of losing her husband, stayed before her eyes for many days.

Mary always says that with patience and restraint, any problem in life can be solved. But life itself is a problem. What if life is a fight on the edge of death?

***

As soon as they reached the railway station, they heard an announcement that the train to Hyderabad was ready at the platform. Despite Tanmayi’s request, Mary came to see them off, worried about how Tanmayi would manage alone with Babu and the luggage.

Tanmayi bought two hilly brooms to sweep the house. She could not find such thick brooms anywhere except in Visakhapatnam. When she was young, only thick brooms were available at a low price. On the first day they swept the house with those brooms, the fibers flew around and stuck to their clothes, pricking them. These hilly stick brooms are expensive.

“That’s why they sell them in bundles of three or four in Hyderabad, keeping empty straws in between. They get spoiled in two days,” Tanmayi said to Mary while buying them.

Mary bought two pillows. She stitched the covers herself and embroidered them beautifully.

“Why all this now?” Tanmayi asked.

“Shouldn’t I do this for you, my only dear friend, at least now that I’ve got a job at the university?” Mary giggled.

Once, when they were together in the hostel, Mary was very upset that she hadn’t gotten any job she applied for. Tanmayi clearly remembered how disappointed Mary had been all night, having failed to get even an elementary-level job. Because she waited patiently, she eventually got the best job of all. Saying this, Tanmayi hugged Mary.

“Your life is an example of how time never stays the same. When problems arise, people who think life ends that very day and see no future should remember this. You have proven that time not only heals wounds but also solves problems. You stood on your feet defiantly in the face of difficulties. You are an inspiration to many, and your friendship has taught me patience,” Mary said, smiling.

Whenever Tanmayi talked to Mary, she felt the strength of a mammoth.

She got into the train, arranged her belongings, and stood near the window, saying, “It’s okay, Mary. Farewell.”

“Say bye to Auntie,” Mary said, turning toward the child.

There was no child.

She suddenly stood up and looked around quickly, but there was no one beside her or in the opposite berth.

Tanmayi did not understand what was happening.

Mary quickly boarded the train, as the door was right next to her.

Tanmayi frantically ran between the rows of berths, calling out, “Babu!”

The boy, who was playing with Shekhar in the fourth berth, suddenly ran toward his mother. Shekhar was there.

She was shocked and immediately became angry.

“Don’t you know you should have told me before taking the child away?”

Unable to say anything to him, she slapped the child on the back and shouted, “Why did you go without telling me, rascal?”

Shekhar angrily turned his face away and said, “He’s my son. He doesn’t need to beg you to come to me.”

As the nearby passengers watched, Tanmayi said nothing, pulled the child into the seat, and collapsed. Mary, who returned then, sat beside her and said, “Don’t worry. I saw your man outside the station. He got off the auto behind us. Now I know who he is. He must have called the child from the next berth while we were talking. He remembered him—that’s wonderful.”

Tears flowed from Tanmayi’s eyes as she held the crying child.

“Oh my goodness! I slapped the child unnecessarily,” she said in grief.

“Did he just happen to see us on the same train, or did he come on purpose?” Mary asked doubtfully.

Tanmayi replied vaguely. Whatever the reason, he was traveling on the same train.

“I can’t stand this anymore.”

“Why?”

Sadness, anger, pity, and helplessness attacked Tanmayi’s mind one after another, increasing her anxiety. She wanted to scream loudly, as if she were going mad. She wanted to slap herself on both cheeks. She wanted to throw him out of her life and off the train, the man who had mercilessly ruined her life. The helplessness of being unable to do anything overwhelmed her.

Hearing the whistle as the train was about to depart, Mary consoled her. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry. Relax. He must have accidentally seen you on this train. You must be as brave as you used to be. Be careful.” The train moved.

Ten minutes after departure, Shekhar came and sat near the corner window, calling the child again.

The boy, frightened by the earlier slap, looked at his mother. Tanmayi looked out the window and closed her eyes.

“It’s okay, my dear boy. Come on, Dad is calling. I’ll see how she separates us,” he said sternly.

Where had all this love been all these years? If he truly loved his son, why did he turn away?

Tanmayi clenched her fists tightly, trying to control her anger.

The court had granted her custody, allowing him visitation rights. Now she felt determined to stop it. She felt it might be better to send the child to him than to endure the pain of seeing him sitting before her. She looked at the boy, who gazed at her sadly, as if asking permission to go.

The child quickly took his finger and left.

What a strange thing! she thought.

Tanmayi leaned back on the berth, feeling helpless. “Friend, help me”, she thought.

She once dreamed of sharing her life with him. She longed to walk beside him even when her mother opposed it.

In those days, whenever she touched him, a loving smile lit her face, and whenever she saw him, she felt shy.

“Why are you so shy?” he would ask whenever she covered her face with both hands.

She had believed he was a man of great character and heart. She had been wrong.

He shattered everything, acted irresponsibly, blamed her, and left causing endless suffering and humiliation. She still could not forget how he turned away carelessly after taking the divorce papers and drove off.

Why did he play with her life? Why did he chase her with love and marriage? Why did he turn marriage into hell and seek revenge?

An hour later, when the child stood beside her, she burst into tears. As if understanding her pain, the child held her hand and wiped her eyes.

She hugged him and whispered, “Don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me, nanna,” and cried silently.

***

When they got off the train in Hyderabad in the morning, Shekhar was not there. He must have gotten down at his village.

“Hm,” Tanmayi said firmly.

She called out to a man in a red shirt shouting, “Coolie!”

Holding the child with one hand and her purse with the other, she followed him toward the auto stand.

Even taking an auto to the nearest bus stand, carrying all the luggage was difficult. Walking through the station, she reached the gate.

“Oh, the train arrived early. How was the journey?” asked Prabhu, who was waiting there.

Tanmayi, whose eyes were swollen from worry and sadness throughout the night, looked down, avoiding him.

She walked slowly behind him. The child held his hand, noticing his mother’s slow steps.

Seeing Tanmayi silent in the auto, Prabhu asked, “Is everything okay?”

She nodded. How could she explain the fire burning in her heart? With pain raging inside, she did not feel like talking. His face irritated her. Why was he following her? Yet she knew he had come to help.

She boarded the bus and sat near the window.

“I’ll come on Sunday,” he said loudly.

“No,” she replied impatiently.

But her words were lost in the sound of the horn as the bus departed. He stood there, watching until the bus moved out of sight.

It was sad that he had woken up early to come to the station. But her mind was not in a state to care. She did not even speak properly, despite his help. She did not know whether it was right to distance herself from Prabhu due to her anger toward Shekhar.

Her heart groaned with a sorrow she could not share. Why was Shekhar returning to ruin her life again? Why was he entering a life that was just beginning to settle?

When Shekhar reappeared, the past spun like a reel, tearing her mind apart.

“Mom! Dad says he’ll come to school again in a month,” the child said.

Tanmayi sat helplessly. A new problem had begun. Why was the man who had once abandoned them completely returning to the child’s life? When one problem ended, another emerged.

She looked at the sky through the window. White clouds raced across the blue. In this vast universe, how insignificant was human life? How small was her suffering, yet why did it feel unbearable?

Mary’s words echoed again. With patience and restraint, any problem can be solved.

She wiped her tears.

Pulling the child closer, she said softly, “Shall we play the cloud game, dear?”

Seeing the calm on his mother’s face, he nodded happily.

“Look there… What shape does that cloud have?” she asked.

“It looks like the shoe my father wore yesterday,” the child laughed.

Something pricked her heart.

“Whenever he sees his father, he remembers him. What does a child know? He’s just the one who gives chocolates.”

“And what about the cloud next to it?” Tanmayi asked.

*****

(Continued next month)