Festive vibes

The morning was bright and lively as the village prepared for the day of festivities. Vikram’s sister, Radha, had left another set of beautiful half sarees in our room. My own was a soft, rosy pink skirt with a matching blouse and a contrasting emerald-green dupatta that shimmered in the morning light. The delicate silver embroidery on the border added a touch of elegance, and I could feel my heart beat a little faster just looking at it. Aditi’s half saree was a royal purple with gold patterns, the blouse perfectly fitted with intricate zari work. Shruthi’s half saree was a deep blue with silver accents, as if reflecting the calm sky.

As we began dressing, Radha entered, asking for a hand with her saree. She scanned the room before her gaze landed on me. “Suhasini, would you help me with my pleats?” she asked casually, assuming that, as another girl, I would be familiar with it. My stomach did a little flip as I tried to keep my nerves in check. I approached her, my hands smoothing down the soft fabric as I carefully folded each pleat, making sure they lay perfectly aligned. The experience was surreal, helping her as though I were just one of the women in her family.

Radha adjusted her saree with a satisfied smile. “Thank you, Suhasini. You really do have a knack for this.” Aditi watched from the side, stifling a laugh as I blushed. She leaned in and whispered, “Look at you, already a saree expert,” adding a wink that made me blush deeper.

Finally, we added jasmine flowers to our hair, their fragrance creating a soothing, floral cloud around us. As we left the room, the feeling of the half saree, the flowers, and the soft clinking of my bangles made me feel as if I was stepping fully into Suhasini’s world. The narrow village streets were bustling with life, music, and the scent of incense hanging in the air. Everywhere I looked, villagers were celebrating, and I felt their energy lifting my spirits.

As we moved through the crowds, Vikram stayed close, his presence a steadying force that both soothed and thrilled me. The narrow paths forced us closer, and each time he reached out to steady me or guide me around a group of people, my heart skipped. His attentiveness felt natural, but every little touch sent a ripple through me. At one point, I stumbled over a small stone, and Vikram’s arm shot out, steadying me with a firm grip on my elbow.

“Careful, Suhasini,” he murmured, his voice gentle but with a hint of amusement. I felt warmth bloom in my cheeks as I looked up and nodded, his eyes meeting mine with a softness that seemed to linger.

As we continued walking, the elder women began gathering young girls for a ritual. It was a tradition to bring blessings for a future husband. The women called Aditi and Shruthi, motioning them forward with blessings. Their eyes passed over me, pausing, and then smiling as if I were too young for such a ritual.

But Aditi, always mischievous, wasn’t about to let that go unnoticed. She nudged me playfully, her grin widening. “Suhasini, you’re part of this too,” she whispered with a sparkle in her eyes, guiding me forward. “After all, it’s just a blessing. Let’s join in.”

A flood of nerves mixed with a thrill surged through me as I stepped forward, hesitating, but then looking at the kind smiles of the women around me. They handed me a small silver plate filled with flowers and turmeric, just like the others. I held it with a soft, self-conscious smile, glancing up to see Vikram watching me with an unreadable expression. His gaze seemed to follow my every movement, and somehow, under his watchful eyes, each step I took felt more real, more significant.

The ritual began, and the other girls and I moved gracefully, following each traditional step under the elders’ guidance. I offered the flowers, murmuring blessings, and felt the quiet weight of this shared experience settle over me. Glancing around, I caught the soft smiles of the other women, their eyes warm with encouragement.

Just as I laid my flowers before the small shrine, I stole a glance at Vikram. He was still watching, his expression softened, as if he was seeing me—Suhasini—in a new light. His gaze was warm, steady, and somehow felt deeply personal. My cheeks grew hot, and I quickly looked down, a gentle, fluttering feeling rising in my stomach. He was so calm, so steady, that I felt myself leaning into this new sense of closeness, even if it was unspoken.

Afterward, as we moved away, Aditi leaned in, teasing as usual. “Did you see how Vikram couldn’t keep his eyes off you, Suhasini?” she whispered with a smirk. I gave her a shy, playful nudge, glancing back at him, only to catch him smiling softly to himself as he looked in my direction.

The day continued with music and laughter, with Vikram always nearby, his presence a comforting, steady shadow. I realized that I felt a certain contentment in this role—a sense of belonging among the other girls, and even, a hope that perhaps I was seen by Vikram in the same way.

The main event of the day had finally arrived: the grand Jatra, when the village's chariot, towering and decorated with vivid colors and floral garlands, would carry the idol of the deity through the streets. The air was thick with incense, and the rhythmic beats of traditional drums and conch shells filled the sky, adding to the energy and excitement all around. Hundreds of villagers gathered in anticipation, men on one side preparing to pull the massive chariot while women and children stood in awe, joining hands in prayer.

As we watched, Radha came over to our little group, her face glowing with pride and reverence. “This is a big day, girls,” she said with a warm smile, gesturing for us to follow her. “There are some rituals you must do. It’s a tradition for women to make offerings and tie sacred threads as a sign of blessing for the festival.”

I felt a thrill of nervousness and excitement. We followed her to a small area where women were gathered, performing the rituals. They stood in rows, holding trays of turmeric, kumkum, flowers, and oil lamps, each making offerings with gentle, precise gestures.

Radha handed each of us a small tray and instructed us to follow her lead. We were to make a circular offering to the chariot and then tie a sacred red thread around our wrists as a sign of devotion and gratitude. Aditi gave me a playful nudge, whispering, “See, Suhasini? Now you’re fully part of this!” I gave her a shy smile, holding my tray with trembling hands, my heart racing with the sense of belonging.

As we began, I focused on each gesture, moving slowly, aware of the eyes of other women and girls around me. I noticed the soft, warm glances of the elderly women, who looked at me with a fondness that felt both comforting and surreal. I felt the weight of the jasmine flowers in my hair, the fragrance of sandalwood, and the softness of the half saree as I moved with them. This wasn’t just a festival; it felt like a deeply personal experience, a connection to something timeless and powerful.

Then, with a cheer, the men began to pull the chariot forward. The deity, adorned with garlands and vibrant clothes, towered above us, and everyone around began to offer prayers. Radha brought us to a small shrine nearby, where she told us we’d need to perform a ritual known as the kumkum pooja. She explained that the younger women would offer turmeric and kumkum at the feet of the deity as a prayer for good fortune and blessings.

Radha handed me a small container of kumkum and turmeric powder, showing me how to sprinkle it gently at the foot of the shrine. It was said to bring blessings, protection, and good fortune, especially for women seeking a bright future. I felt shy, knowing the significance, but Aditi nudged me, whispering, “Come on, Suhasini. It’s for your future.”

With a nervous but eager heart, I followed Radha’s example, offering the kumkum and turmeric, praying quietly. I could feel the weight of the ritual, but there was also a quiet joy in it—a feeling that I was not just imitating a tradition but participating fully.

Then, to add a playful twist, Radha and some of the other women began singing traditional songs. “This is for the young girls,” Radha laughed, gesturing to us. “We sing to bless them with good husbands!” Aditi and Shruthi grinned at me, clearly enjoying the tease as they started singing, clapping along with the others.

I joined in, shyly at first, feeling my cheeks burn as the song’s meaning dawned on me. It was a blessing for love, for companionship, and in the midst of the song, I caught a glimpse of Vikram standing at a distance, watching us with a gentle smile. The sight of him, his gaze unwavering, sent a flutter through me. Aditi leaned close and whispered, “Seems like someone’s got an admirer.”

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden hue over the village, the final pooja of the festival was set to commence. The air was filled with excitement and anticipation as the priest called upon the young women to come forward to participate in the ritual. Radha beamed with pride as she took Aditi, Shruthi, and me by the hand, leading us toward the front.

The atmosphere was charged with joy and laughter as we approached the altar. The priest blessed us, and then we began to distribute kumkum, turmeric, and flowers to all the women gathered around. Each woman received us warmly, and I felt a rush of pride as they praised me for embracing the traditions of their village, calling me “a true traditional girl from the city.” The compliments swelled my heart, making me feel more connected to my feminine side.

As I handed out the offerings, the women began to place kumkum on my forehead, a gesture filled with affection and warmth. “You’re just beautiful, dear,” one of the older women said with a twinkle in her eye. “We could use someone like you in our family!” Her words made my cheeks flush with a mix of pride and bashfulness. I could feel the weight of their words, their acceptance, wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

Another woman chimed in, “You should join our family gatherings more often, Suhasini. You fit right in!” It was both exhilarating and humbling. Their genuine kindness tugged at my heartstrings, and I couldn't help but feel emotional, overwhelmed by the sense of belonging that enveloped me.

“Is she alright?” one of the women teased, looking at me knowingly. “We could make her our daughter-in-law if she’s not already taken!” A wave of laughter rippled through the group, and my face turned crimson. Aditi quickly jumped in to deflect the playful teasing. “Oh, she’s still young for that! She’s just participating in the ritual where we pray for good husbands,” she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

The conversation shifted toward Aditi as the women turned their attention to her, assessing her with appreciative glances. “And what about you, dear? Are you ready for marriage? You’re equally charming!” they teased.

Caught off guard, Aditi sputtered for a moment, her cheeks turning a shade of crimson that matched my own. “Wait, I—uh—I’m still focusing on my studies!” she stammered, clearly flustered.

In that moment, I decided to join in on the fun, my voice playful and teasing. “But Akka, when will you marry? I want to see my brother-in-law!” I grinned at her, enjoying the look of mock horror on her face.

“Oh, come on! Can’t you wait a little?” Aditi replied, pretending to be exasperated. “I have things to do, you know—important things!”

Shruthi, who had been quiet, now burst out laughing. “But Aditi, Suhasini wants to know! Imagine the drama of our family gatherings with you as the bride!”

Radha joined in, laughing as she nudged Aditi with her shoulder. “You know, Suhasini might find a handsome man who will sweep her off her feet first! We might just have to prepare for a wedding soon.”

Aditi turned to me, eyes narrowed playfully. “Well, if I have to get married first, I want to see who you think would make a good husband for me, Suhasini!”

My laughter rang out, and I shot back, “Of course! I’ll keep my eyes open for a handsome brother-in-law for you!”

As we playfully bantered, the camaraderie among us grew stronger. The teasing felt lighthearted and carefree, wrapping us in a bond that was beautiful and unique.

Once the final pooja was completed, we began our walk home, our spirits high and our hearts warm. The night air was fragrant with jasmine, and we shared more girly talks, reminiscing about the day’s events, laughing about the women’s suggestions, and dreaming up scenarios of who Aditi’s future husband might be.

“Honestly, though,” Radha said, leaning closer to me, “you were amazing today, Suhasini. You truly looked the part!”

“Thanks, Radha!” I replied, feeling a flutter of happiness at her compliment. “This village is so beautiful, and everyone has been so welcoming. I can’t believe how connected I feel!”

When we finally reached Vikram’s home, the delicious aroma of the evening meal wafted through the air. His mother had prepared a feast for us, and we gathered around the table, sharing stories and laughter as we enjoyed the food.

After dinner, feeling pleasantly tired from the day’s festivities, we retired to our rooms. As I lay down, my heart was still racing from all the joy and excitement. The day had been full of blessings, connection, and a deeper understanding of my own identity. I couldn’t help but smile as I closed my eyes, the memories of the festival swirling in my mind like a beautiful dream, eager for what the next day would bring.