22

-• goodbyes and welcomes •-

The six men in her had life left no stone unturned in giving her wedding a dream like appearance. They did everything they knew their father would have approved and appreciated. The wedding had commenced with a great vigour, and ended in soft, untouched tears. It was a bond of less than seven years, yet it impacted lives living for decades. Taranya could hardly look at her brothers without feeling this unavoidable urge to undo the wedding knot and run into their arms to be kept safe and happy, forever.

Yuvraaj stood out of the spotlight for the majority of the wedding functions, only coming forward when he needed to do rituals on behalf of his father. He wasn't avoiding the limelight, he was avoiding having a witness to his vulnerable state.

Vivaan hated standing in the crowd and watching his little star descend into someone else's courtyard. But he knew she will be happy there. She wants this. And he wants nothing else but give her everything she wants.

Yuvaan rarely cries. He had stopped shedding tears completely after their father's death. But he's sensitive as fuck when it comes to his little one. So when one tear rolled down, he wiped it, but then another did, followed by the third one, and he knew he was defeated in the face of emotions. Damn it. He needs a new tissue box.

Agastya absolute despised this. He hated watching her get married to that underserving man, and more than anything, he hated hoping against the hope that she'll come back to them if the marriage doesn't work out. He wanted to pray it doesn't work out. But that'd be selfish. And if his short stuff had taught him something after coming into their lives, then it's sacrifice. He had done it once, without a question or a reason, and he'll do it again. She comes first.

Arush was happy. He trusted Shourya. The man will keep his sister safe. But still, there was a little worm wiggling in his mind, worrying for the once sixteen year old that naively invited troubles. She still does. But maybe, this time she'll have her husband to tackle those silly issues. She'll be fine. Happy, even.

Ayush wondered if his sister really wanted this marriage to happen or not. Not even once he saw the beaming smile on her face that usually lights up the whole room. She's smiling yes, but it looks far from genuine. Her eyes, estranged, forlorn, as if she could be anywhere but here in this moment. He hoped not. He hoped he was just seeing things. Maybe it's the wedding jitters. He has heard of them. Brides usually get a cold feet right before the wedding. That's what he assured himself with, even though the seed of doubt was planted deep inside his head.

The six men had prepared themselves to see their sister off to a new beginning.

But when the moment came, the reluctance shone in their eyes clear as day.

"It's time for the Vidaai,"

Taranya stiffens hearing the words. Sometimes she hates learning Hindi. Languages that put up the communication barriers, break the emotional ones once you learn them. The word Vidaai, when translated in English, simply means goodbye. And goodbyes change with context, don't they? There's a casual goodbye at the end of the group hangout, there's an adorable goodbye as the child climbs his school bus, there's a final goodbye when two people walk out of each other's lives forever. Hearing a goodbye won't put you in tears if it has no memory giving it a meaning. But Vidaai, it has a meaning that makes a memory. A memory so unforgettable, you remember it before it even happens.

"Where are her brothers?" Someone from the guests says.

Taranya, tied in a knot to her husband, looks around in a frenzy. The lehenga is so heavy she can hardly move in it. But that doesn't stop her from following the urge of her feet. Shourya has no choice but to follow. Two destinies locked in one fate.

People around start to look for the Chauhan men too.

"Taranya, I'll go and see outside. Maybe they're attending new guests?" Janet suggests.

Taranya nods. "Give me a call if you find them."

"I will!" And she disappears into the crowd.

"They're not kids, Tara. They must be somewhere around." Shourya reassures her. "I'll ask someone to call them. Don't worry."

She nods, stopping to rest. Walking in this heavy lehenga is harder than walking into a bakery and keeping a check on your sugar intake. She sits down on a random chair, accidently tugging at the knot and pulling Shourya close as well. Frustrated at it, she lifts her hands to undo the knots.

"Tara!" Shourya grabs her wrist.

She looks up at him, then at the people watching her in shock, and clears her throat, putting her hands back in her lap.

"I- I was fixing it. It was loose." She lies.

Relieved, the people go back to their business.

"How long are we supposed to stay bounded like this?" She hisses quietly.

Making sure there's no one listening on them, he regards her with a frown. "For the rest of our lives."

"This, Shourya!" She grits, shaking the knot tying them together.

"Oh," his brows relax. "Until we're done with the rituals on our end."

"What rituals?"

"Dwar Rokai-"

"What's that?"

"Cousins from my side will stop at us at the door and demand gifts or cash." He explains. "Then Griha Pravesh,"

"I know that one!" She nods eagerly. It's when you kick an urn filled with rice lentils, then step into vermillion water and leave your footprints walking into the house. "Next?"

"Then some fun indoor games-"

"How many?"

"I don't know, two or three, maybe?" He guesses.

"What kind of games?" She leans in curiously. Indian weddings are more than just getting married. You can take her word for it. She's getting a first hand experience.

"Finding a ring-"

"Tell me the script!"

He closes his eyes in irritation. He had never had someone cut him off so many times whenever he speaks. She's the first woman. Fuck that, she's the first human being.

"They put a ring in the milk that has rose petals and some other stuff mixed in there to fool you. Then we try to find it. Whoever finds it first is said to take the charge of the marital life."

"I'm gonna win this." She says determinedly.

Shourya curbs a smile.

"And the next game?"

"We get to untie this knot."

She glows up. "Really? Like simply untie the knot?"

He bites his lower lip. "No, we've to do that using our teeth."

She sits back, aghast. "What?"

"Yeah, you gotta use your teeth to untie the knot." He shrugs.

"But- But- like- wait, in front of your whole family?"

Face poker, he nods in response to her question.

She looks around carefully and covertly picks up the gathbandhan in her lap, her fingers working deftly on the knot. Panicked, Shourya yanks it off to his side. "Hey!" She grabs it back. "I'm loosening it!"

"You're not!" He grunts, taking the gathbandhan back. "That's cheating."

"Oh, look at that, the liar preaching the retribution of lies." She counters.

Ignoring her, he hugs the gathbandhan to his chest, afraid to leave it in her untrustworthy hands. He likes seeing them tied together. It's a physical representation of their new, unsullied relationship.

Taranya's phone starts to vibrate. Shourya swallows when she arches to her right, revealing the smooth flesh of her stomach to unhook the ethnic potli bag from the skirt's waistline. Fixing her dupatta back in the place, she pulls at the draw strings and grabs her phone from inside. Shourya steps closer when she answers the call, professional eavesdropper in the making.

"You found them? Where are they?"

Shourya leans in slightly, unable to hear the other side.

Realising that, Taranya shoves him back. He presses his lips in a tight line.

"I'm coming." She gets up from the chair and starts walking. Her helpless husband has no choice but to follow her like a leashed puppy.

She finds her brothers in the living room, slouched in their seats, lost in their own thoughts. Her gait slows down.

"Vidaai ke bina hi vida kar rahe ho?" She asks softly.

Shourya looks at her stunned.

The six men raise their heads.

"I'm sorry, we stepped out for some fresh air." Yuvraaj gets up from the couch. "C'mon, boys, we still have things to do."

Taranya smiles ruefully. "Fresh air in the living room?"

Yuvraaj stops moving, gaze downcast, wordless to her question.

"Shame on you, Bhai. You still can't lie properly." Vivaan forces out a chuckle. "Tara, you won't believe, this man forgot how the next ritual goes. And you know his ego. So he came out to Google that stuff. Such an idiot."

"You guys collectively forgot about it?" She asks rhetorically. "But the priest is still outside. I'm sure he doesn't mind helping."

"We forgot to load your stuff-" Yuvaan starts, falling quiet when their eyes meet.

"Can I just-" her voice drops to a whisper. "Can I just have a group hug, please? That's all I really want." She requests.

Surprising everyone, Yuvraaj reaches her first and embraces her fiercely. Unable to stop herself anymore, Taranya breaks down heavily in his arms. He's big and soft. Like her father. Like himself. He's both a memory and a moment. There's grief and there's happiness. She reminisces the mourning, and receives the hope. He's two worlds sheltered under the same sky.

"I love you," the confession won't have broke her as much as it did if it wasn't her first time hearing those words from him. She never needed the vocal assurance, she knows he has always loved her. Yet it feels good to know, to hear, to decipher the real from the reality.

Soon enough, she's embraced from the remaining five men. Like a dew surrounded by the petals. Fragile, protected.

"Okay, we'll miss the auspicious time. Let's go now," Vivaan sniffles softly, patting the younger ones back in encouragement. Tara wipes her tears away, thanking her eldest brother softly when he offers her a handkerchief.

When she tries returning it, he cups her hand. "Keep it."

So she keeps it.

They return to the venue to proceed with the last ritual. Taranya ties the cashmere  handkerchief around her wrist, leading her red chura. Then she scoops the rice lentils and coins in her hands, and gently tosses them back, smiling over her shoulder as her brothers catch them in the cup of their palms. It's the sign of reassurance, that even though their Laxmi is stepping out to fill her husband's home with love and prosperity, she's never abandoning her old one. Taranya is absolutely in love with these rituals.

Then, without looking back again, she climbs the palanquin and sits with her knees pulled. The net curtains fall, the outside world blurry. A moment later, they open again, and she sees her husband's face. Shourya removes the gathbandhan dupatta from his shoulder and gently lays it in her lap. She frowns. "I thought it's to open later?"

"Yeah, I'm not opening it." He smiles.

She glares angrily at the man. If he knew it can be removed if not opened, why did he not tell her before? Asshole. The curtains fall again and his face disappears. Good riddance.

Outside, Shourya faces her brothers and joins his hands as a farewell. Then he walks to his car parked ahead and gets in. As per the old traditions, he was supposed to be riding a horse, but he's not mentally prepared to travel 34 kilometres on a horse. And if it wasn't for Rajmata Narayni Devi's oath, they wouldn't even be doing it the traditional way. It's shocking enough that her brothers are going to carry her doli all the way to Rajgarh. What was their grandmother thinking when she made such a ridiculous promise? What if the princess was married off to a foreign country? Was she expecting her grandsons to cross oceans and mountains? Shourya shakes his head in disbelief. It's good that they're stopping for the night seven hours later to rest. They've estimated this long journey to end in about 42 hours. Shourya rests his head back tiredly. The driver starts the car and they finally drive ahead.

Shourya wasn't prepared for what he saw when the Veer Mahal's gates opened.

He knows she's loved, but he had no idea to the extent of people coming down to streets, balconies and porch to toss flower petals and rice lentils as a way of seeing her off. The sky is illuminated with firecrackers, streets are alight with fairy lights and there are reporters recording the event.

Taranya was overwhelmed.

She had spent less than a year in this city, but it's still her home. And now that she is leaving married, how can it not come to watch her cross the threshold? She places her chin on her knees, smiling at whatever she can see through the netted golden curtains. Her fingers slide into the opening and she pulls them apart, smiling at the people who wave at her eagerly. She waves back.

It takes two days for Taranya to reach her new home. When she steps out, she finds her brothers sitting on the bench, rolling their aching shoulders. Ignoring the people around, she walks to them and crouches to her feet. "Bring water, please." She requests.

"I'm fine." Yuvraaj places a gentle hand on top of her head.

"Yeah, I'm too- Ow!" Agastya groans, having flexed his shoulder the wrong way and getting another strain in the muscles.

"You're not. You guys look exhausted." She sniffles, taking the glass of water served to them and making her brothers drink it. "C'mon, let's go inside-"

"No, Taranya. We need to leave now." Yuvraaj says softly.

Taranya frowns.

"Yeah," Agastya whispers, avoiding speaking so he can hide the heaviness in his voice.

"Why? You're tired. You should stay and get some rest-"

"That's not right. You just got married. And we have to get a few things ready back home for when you return for Pag Phera."

With that, her brothers get in the black Cadillac Escalade waiting for them and drive off. She stands there, strangely feeling stranded and forgotten. Her eyes tear up as their car exits the gate. Hurriedly, she wipes her eyes, wanting to watch the retreating car until it disappears. Her lips tremble and she inhales a few shaky breaths to calm herself down.

Feeling a hand on her fisted knuckles, she flinches and looks to her right. The light brown eyes stare back at her fondly. Then he undoes her fist and takes the gathbandhan dupatta from her, draping it over his shoulder before leaning forward to hold her hand. "C'mon," he urges.

Defeatedly, she follows him inside the Rajawat Palace. As per her expectations, she has to gently tilt the urn filled with rice, then step inside a high hipped platter filled with vermillion water. A pristine white cloth is laid out in front of her like a red carpet. Feet red, she leaves her footprint on the cloth before walking deeper inside the palace.

It's same as she had first experienced it. Detached and cold, as if it was built on a graveyard. She sees a few familiar faces that she met during the wedding. They pass her friendly smiles. She tries to reciprocate. But the deeper she walks in, the more apprehensive she gets. So when her fingers open and slot with his, she doesn't bother acknowledging the look of suprise that crosses his face. If she could, she'd have run off and never glanced back. But she can't. And hence, he's the only man she can trust in this place.

According to what he told her, they're made to play games after getting blessings from the in-house temple. She wins the one they had to find the ring. It wasn't a fair win. She had snatched the ring from him by scratching the back of his palm with her nails. Then she had proudly showed it off to the people around, who half booed but half cheered.

Shourya had shaken his head incredulously.

"Okay, this one's simple, you guys have to hold hands and then undo the knot. It's to judge how good your teamwork is." One of his distant cousin explains.

Shourya tries remembering her name. It was something akin to Trisha. Or Nisha. Maybe Trisha.

Taranya sits straight and gathers her lehenga, tucking it beneath her legs as she prepares herself for the game. Shourya fails to hold his smile. This is the same woman who hated the thought of marrying him. But he adores her competitive attitude.

They clasp their opposite hands. Trisha or Nisha ties a string around their wrists. But before Shourya can start, Taranya leans forward to undo the knot using her teeth. Everyone falls quiet. Stunned silence follows. "What are you doing? Help me!" She snaps upon sitting straight again.

He opens his mouth to respond, but then closes it again, unable to form a coherent reply.

"Uhm, Bhabhi, you're supposed to use your hand. The one that's not tied." Trisha educates.

Taranya's jaw drops. "But you told me-" she looks at Shourya, and seeing the amusement in his eyes, understands she was made a fool.

"Sorry," he whispers, chuckling softly. "It's - it's not her fault, guys. I told her you need to use your teeth to untie the knot." He tells everyone. "Don't be embarrassed. They'll believe me." He says in a loud whisper, as if telling her secretly. Everyone laughs.

She raises her hand to hit him on the arm but then stops as his family goes, "Arey, arey, arey!" Huffing, she drops her hand to her lap and settles on glaring at him.

"Shourya," the Chairman addresses curtly, "Stop pulling your wife's leg, beta. It's already late. Let's get done with this and retire to your respective rooms. I'm sure you and Taranya are tired."

Shourya nods, tugging at the knot to grab her attention back to the game. Together, using their free hands, they carefully undo the knot. His family celebrates like they won gold in Olympics. And then finally, they're allowed to head to their bedroom.

Shourya opens the door, holding it ajar to let her in. She walks in timidly, looking at the decorations made around and on the bed. He follows and closes the door.

"Your stuff reached before we did. It's in the closet." He informs.

She nods, walking inside the closet to discover her bags stacked neatly in the corner of the room. Leaving the unpacking to the next day, she grabs an oversized tshirt and loose pants, the toiletry bag of her skincare routine, a towel, and heads inside the bathroom, closing the door gently behind her. It takes her an hour to get out of her wedding lehenga, remove all the makeup stuff and wash her face, arms and feet before hopping into the comfortable clothes.

Coming out, she notices he has already changed into a white tshirt and black sweats. His body more defined and outlined in the casual clothing than in the ethnic wear. She looks away before she is caught ogling him. He drops the last of the flower petals in the trashcan and slaps off the dust from his hands. "I've cleaned the bed. You can sleep now." He turns around to face her.

She nods. She can see that.

He licks his lower lip. "Uhm, I'll go and freshen up. You can turn off the lights if you want."

She steps aside as he walks past her. The door closes and she releases a deep breath. What is wrong with her? Why is she suddenly so awkward around him? He's the same man she had kissed, made out with oftentimes, even if she didn't know his true identity back then. They have a history of messy feelings, constant arguments, and fierce intimacy. Sleeping in the same room as him should be the least of her concern.

But she can't help it.

She's his wife now.

It's different. Everything is different.

Shaking off the irrelevant thoughts, she walks to the bed and takes the right side. Then she turns off the lights and lies down, facing the wall, the comforter pulled up until her shoulders.

A few minutes later, she hears the bathroom door unlock and the padding of feet come closer. Her breath hitches feeling a dip in the bed. Tensed, she holds her breath while he gets comfortable right next to her, and once he stops moving, she sighs in relief.

She fails to fall asleep. She was so tired before she stepped inside this room. Now she can't even relax in the same vicinity as his.

"Taranya," he whispers in the dark.

She squeezes her eyes shut. She has nothing to say to him. Not even good night.

"Esther?" He whispers again.

She clutches the comforter tightly to her chest feeling him shift closer.

"Are you asleep?" He asks softly. "I can't fall asleep." He continues. "I have spent sleepless nights dreaming about you with open eyes. Now you're here." She can imagine him smiling.

Okay. Go to sleep now.

She prays internally.

"Can I hug you?" He asks for permission, then doesn't wait for one, his arm already draping across her figure, wrapping itself around her waist and gently pulling her close until her back touches his firm chest. "Better?"

No, dude, this is worse. Fuck, I wanna go back home.

She swallows, her heart hammering inside her chest.

"Better." He answers himself.

None of them catch any sleep that night.

I'm torn between coddling this man and strangling him to death 😭

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Don't forget to vote and comment. Makes my day.