Welcome to the show

Ishan frantically closed the lid of his lipstick, his hands trembling slightly as he carefully placed the Chanel lipstick back into his bag.

“How do I look?” he asked, his voice laced with nervousness, his eyes scanning Aryan for reassurance.

“Dude, this is the third time you’re asking me that,” Aryan replied with an exaggerated sigh, his voice tinged with annoyance. “You look nice, okay? Stop stressing.”

“Nice or good? Please, I need to know if I look like a guy in a wig.” Ishan pulled out a small round mirror from his bag once more, inspecting his reflection anxiously.

“Chill out, man,” Aryan said, his tone more relaxed this time. “You’re meeting your parents, not going for an audition for a movie.”

Ishan shot him a glare, trying his best to remain calm.

“Well, they’ve never seen me like this before,” he muttered, gesturing to his body as if the outfit itself was some new form of alien technology.

Ishan had carefully crafted his look to be as feminine as possible. The heavy Banarasi saree draped elegantly around his body, shimmering with rich gold and red threads.

The saree’s vibrant hues accentuated his delicate frame, with intricate embroidery tracing the contours of his body in just the right places. Each pleat and fold of the fabric seemed almost perfect, adding an air of grace to his every movement.

His hands were adorned with nine red bangles, their colors stark against his skin, a symbol of married life. On each hand, two gold bracelets added a touch of opulence, their light tinkling as he moved. The delicate sound seemed to hum in harmony with his steps.

He had carefully applied makeup to create a flawlessly feminine appearance. His lashes were long and thick, coated with mascara that made his eyes look large and captivating. A subtle blush brought a soft glow to his cheeks, while a small bindi in the center of his forehead completed the look.

Red vermilion was carefully placed in the part of his hair, signifying marital status. The jhumkas hanging from his ears swayed gently, catching the light with every tilt of his head.

A mangal sutra rested around his neck, the black beads contrasting beautifully with the glow of his skin, symbolizing the sacred bond of marriage. The overall effect was one of grace, sophistication, and femininity, with every element carefully curated to accentuate his softer side.

“You look gorgeous,” Aryan said, his tone softer now, noticing how much effort Ishan had put into his transformation.

“I know,” Ishan replied, still examining himself. “But do I look convincing? Or will they think I’m just a guy in a costume?”

Before Aryan could respond, Murli kaka, the driver, broke the silence.

“Radhika ma’am,” he began, his voice raised slightly from the driver’s seat, “is this the first time you're meeting your parents after the marriage?”

Ishan flinched at the formality.

“Murli kaka, I told you to just call me Radhika or Radhika beti just like you call him Aryan baba not Aryan sir,” he said, his frustration palpable. “And yes, it is. But the saree is not the problem... Aryan’s little slip-up has made things way more awkward than they already were.”

“What? He told them about the kiss?” Murli kaka raised an eyebrow, his surprise evident.

Ishan turned sharply to Aryan, who was now looking down at his lap, avoiding his gaze like a guilty puppy.

“You told him too?!” Ishan nearly shrieked, his frustration reaching a boiling point. “Why does everyone have to know about it like it's some big scandal? You have started to give off deep homo vibes now.”

“It’s not like that,” Aryan stammered, clearly uncomfortable. “It just slipped out during a conversation. And  he promised he wouldn't tell anyone.”

“But Shanti knows too...” Murli kaka added awkwardly, unsure if he should be involved in this particular conversation. “But she won’t tell anyone.”

Ishan sank back into his seat, letting out a resigned sigh.

'Great, so now half the world knows. Even Harivansh probably heard about it by now.'

Ishan’s frustration grew as he thought about the task ahead.

“At least I don’t have to pretend to be a woman in front of my parents,” he muttered, looking at Aryan.

“Do you know how exhausting it is to keep this high-pitched voice all day? And don’t even get me started on the waxing. If it weren’t for the laser treatments, I’d have wasted hours trying to get rid of body hair.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Aryan said, trying to offer some comfort. “But hey, at least you’re doing it for your parents, right?”

“So... the Griha Pravesh... Is it just a puja, or is there a function too?” Aryan asked, shifting the conversation back to the event.

“It’s just a small puja,” Ishan explained. “Ma and Baba will perform all the rites, and we just sit behind them to receive the prasad. Then I’ll have a talk with Rohan... he’s been avoiding me like the plague for two months now.”

“Well, we’re finally here,” Murli kaka announced as he parked the Bentley in a nearby spot.

Ishan let out a deep breath, adjusting his saree as he mentally prepared for the family meeting. The moment of truth had arrived.

As He stepped out of the car, his eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the grandeur of the exclusive neighborhood. The opulent houses, the manicured lawns, and the posh atmosphere all seemed to whisper,  "You don't belong here."

He thought back to his childhood, growing up in a modest home with parents who valued simplicity. They had always dreamed of a simple life, a life free from the burdens of wealth and status.

Ishan wanted to give his parents the life they deserved, one they never thought possible. So, when he got the chance to buy a house in an exclusive neighborhood, he took it. The price tag? A whopping 8 crore rupees, a staggering amount his family could hardly imagine just a few years ago.

Standing before the grand mansion, Ishan felt his nerves kick in. He was about to face his family and society as Radhika. The weight of it all hit him like a ton of bricks.

'Calm down Ishan! Its just your MA and BABA, they have changed your diapers as a kid. How awkward can it be'

Before he could let his nerves get the better of him, Aryan's reassuring hand on his shoulder steadied him.

"You got this, Dude," Aryan whispered, his voice low and steady. "Just remember, you're a Radhika Raichand. So, try to sway your hips a bit more, okay?"

Ishan rolled his eyes. "Aryan, this is not a joke."

"Sorry, sorry", Aryan just chuckled. " I couldn't resist."

'Here goes nothing'

Ishan pushed though the gate through the gate, he was expecting a quiet, intimate gathering with his parents and maybe, just maybe, a stray aunt or two.

But what he got was a full-blown welcome party, complete with a chorus of shrill voices, a sea of unfamiliar faces, and enough aunties to start a small army.

Ishan's eyes widened in horror as he scanned the crowd, his mind racing with thoughts of "What. The. Actual. Hell?"

His parents, beaming with pride, stood at the center of the chaos, his mother clutching a puja thali and his father grinning like a possum.

'Shit! Ma, what did you do now? Did you invite the entire neighborhood? The whole bloody city?!'