Unbinding Tradition

116. Proud of her 👏

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The morning sun had just begun to stretch across the mustard fields, casting golden glimmers on the dusty road as Tae adjusted her pallu nervously in the rearview mirror of the car.

The soft hum of the engine filled the otherwise silent vehicle. Jiminee, ever calm and composed, sat beside her with her chin propped on her palm, gazing out of the window as the car made its way toward the railway station.

They had been sent to pick up a guest-a certain Mrs. Joshi from Delhi, a name that carried weight and authority. She was coming to the village for a workshop that Jungkook himself had requested.

The idea was to gather the village women and convince them to send their daughters to the newly opened school-the very first in their region that accepted girls.

Tae, despite her education, felt a lump rise in her throat. This wasn't her usual routine of teaching small children at home. This was bigger. Public. With a woman from the sarkari daftar in Delhi, no less.

As they reached the station, they parked near the platform gate, the car jolting slightly as Tae turned off the ignition. The low whistle of the train in the distance signaled its arrival.

Tae peeked through the windshield at the gathering crowd and murmured,

Tae- Your Mama-sa should have come with us, Jiminee. We don't even know how this Mrs. Joshi looks. How are we going to find her?

She paused, fingers fidgeting with the end of her pallu nervously.

Tae- Also... I-I don't even know what to talk to her about... (she added under her breath)

Jiminee glanced at her and smiled lightly, her confidence unfazed.

Jm- Don't worry, Mami-sa. I've seen her photo. Mama-sa showed it to me last night.

Tae blinked.

Tae- He did?

Jiminee nodded and stepped out of the car, adjusting the sleeves of her simple cotton kurti. Tae followed, pulling her pallu carefully over her head. Her eyes nervously scanned the station, watching the mass of people pouring onto the platform.

The train hissed to a stop.

And then, through the swirling crowd, Jiminee spotted her- A tall, slender woman in her mid-sixties-or perhaps even older-walked forward with a large, sturdy handbag in one hand and a small brown briefcase in the other. Her snow-white saree was starched and crisp, her silver hair parted neatly and tied into a bun at the nape of her neck. A pair of thick-rimmed spectacles rested on her nose, and her gaze was sharp as a blade.

She had no helper, no servant, and yet she carried herself like she owned the station.

Jm- That's her. (she said confidently, pointing toward the woman)

Tae's eyes widened.

Tae- How can you be so sure?

Jm- I told you. I've seen her photo.

Without wasting another moment, Jiminee grabbed Tae's hand and pulled her toward the woman. Tae's steps were hesitant, her voice caught in her throat. Her eyes stayed low, her fingers clutching her pallu tightly as they approached.

Jm- Excuse me, madam. Are you Mrs. Joshi? (she asked, her tone firm and polite)

Mrs. Joshi turned to look at the two women. Her face was lined with age, but her posture was straight, shoulders squared with the discipline of a woman who had spent years in bureaucracy.