Honeymoon@70

   During my final year of college, our department organized a trip to Agra and New Delhi. There was a quiet excitement in the air—college life was coming to an end in just two months, and all of us wanted to hold on to memories that would last beyond classrooms and examinations.

We boarded the Tamil Nadu Express to Agra, and my two friends and I were seated near an elderly couple, perhaps in their seventies. From the very beginning, they seemed genuinely delighted to meet us. They asked us questions about our studies, our hometowns, and our plans after college. We answered with ease, happy to engage in conversation. They told us they were from the Pudukkottai district of Tamil Nadu and were traveling to Agra.

The journey was long—two and a half days—and my friends passed the time in their own ways. On the second day, as I sat talking with the couple, the elderly man slowly began to share his life story.

He told me that theirs was a love marriage. For years, his wife had dreamed of seeing the Taj Mahal. She would often ask him to take her there, but financial hardships always stood in the way. Later, he hoped that their son would fulfill her wish, but life had its own cruelties—their son struggled with alcoholism and was unable to support them.

And yet, after 53 years of marriage, the man had finally managed to take his wife to the Taj Mahal himself. As he spoke, his eyes softened. He said that seeing the happiness on her face was worth everything he had endured. Her joy, he told me, was his greatest reward.

Their story stayed with me long after the conversation ended. I wished I could capture the expression on the old woman’s face when she finally stood before the Taj Mahal—a dream carried quietly for decades, now fulfilled. For them, this journey was not just about visiting a monument. It was a celebration of love, patience, and a lifetime of unwavering commitment.