Mahashivratri
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The words replayed in my head.
Soft.
Breathy.
Dangerously innocent.
For a full second after she ran out
I just stood there.
Frozen.
My ears burned first.
Then my cheeks.
Actually burned.
I lifted a hand unconsciously and touched my ear.
Warm.
Unbelievable.
No one had ever said something like that to me before.
People respected me.
Feared me.
Listened to me.
But complimented me like that?
Never.
And certainly not in that tone.
Not with that mixture of innocence and boldness.
I let out a slow breath and closed the bathroom door quietly.
Click.
Silence again.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a moment.
Water still dripping from my hair.
And a faint... smile tugging at my lips.
"She is getting wild," I murmured under my breath.
I leaned slightly against the sink, shaking my head once.
This girl...
First she invades my privacy.
Then she apologizes.
Then she sets my heartbeat racing.
And then she runs away with that sheepish, nervous smile of hers.
I could still see it
The way her eyes sparkled.
The way she tried to look confident but her fingers were trembling slightly.
She was bold.
But not experienced.
Curious.
But still pure in her intent.
I exhaled slowly, regaining my composure.
"You need to stay calm," I told myself quietly.
My lips curved again despite myself.
For the first time in years
A simple compliment made me blush.
Not what his own father had allowed.
The punishment wasn't loud.
It wasn't visible.
It was slow.
Calculated.
He made sure both men suffered not physically alone, but mentally.
They wished for death some days.
But Rivan?
He never allowed death to be an escape.
He believed in living consequences.
At lunch on the same day the atmosphere shifted.
Yashodha cleared her throat gently.
"Tomorrow is Mahashivratri," she announced, her voice steady but warm. "Preparations will begin today."
Immediately, the dining table buzzed.
Maha Shivratri in the Thakur haveli was not a small affair. It meant decorations, flowers, fasting, guests, bhajans, and an entire temple-like setup in the central hall.
Yashodha began distributing responsibilities like a commander planning a festival war.
Then she turned.
Reyansh slowly lifted his eyes.
Then turned his head... very dramatically... toward Jinal.
Jinal met his stare with equal intensity.
A silent war.
Reyansh rolled his eyes so exaggeratedly it looked painful.
Jinal gave him a sweet, poisonous smile.
"Fine, aunty," Reyansh muttered, clearly resigned to his fate.
"Fine," Jinal echoed at the same time, her tone sharp enough to slice fruit.
Around the table, a few suppressed chuckles escaped.
Devyani blinked between them.
"Why are you both looking like someone forced you to marry each other?" she asked innocently.
The table went silent.
Reyansh coughed.
Jinal almost choked on water.
Yashodha smacked Devyani's hand lightly. "Eat your food."
Virendra leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach with a teasing smile.
"Waise idea bura nahi hai," he said casually.
(By the way, the idea isn't bad.")
The dining table went silent for half a second.
Then
Rivan's gaze snapped toward him.
Sharp.
Cold.
Warning.
Devyani, completely unaware of the danger she was fueling, clapped her hands softly.
Across the table, Aradhya burst out laughing.
The elders chuckled.
No one took it seriously.
It was just family banter.
Just teasing.
Right?
Aradhya wiped her tears of laughter. "But I don't want to call Reyansh bhai to Reyansh jiju. That sounds weird!"
That did it.
Jinal pushed her chair back sharply. "Stop making stupid assumptions."
Her tone had changed.
Reyansh stood up too, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, guys. Chill."
Before anyone could smooth it over
Rivan's voice cut through the air.
The room stiffened.
Jinal left without another word.
Reyansh followed.
The laughter died down.
Virendra tried to wave it off. "Arre, we were just joking."
But Rivan didn't smile.
Instead, he turned his gaze slowly toward Virendra.
"Mr. Thakur," he said evenly, "I heard your company is facing too much loss these days."
The shift in tone was immediate.
Virendra rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Because of one idiot boy."
Rivan's lips curved into a dangerous smirk.
"Then maybe," he said quietly, "you should think before searching for another man for my wife."
The table froze.
The air thickened.
Virendra leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Don't worry. I have already shortlisted a few."
Rivan's eyes narrowed.
The smirk vanished.
Only possession remained.
The slight tension from the table slowly dissolved as conversations shifted. Devyani, who had been quietly observing everyone's expressions like a confused kitten, suddenly turned toward Yashodha.
Her voice was soft. Curious. Pure.
Yashodha's expression instantly warmed.
She adjusted her pallu and motioned Devyani to sit closer beside her.
"Mahashivratri," she began gently, "is the night of Lord Shiva."
She pointed toward the small temple in the haveli courtyard.
Devyani's eyes widened.
Virendra added proudly, "And discipline. Shiva represents control over anger and desires."
Devyani blinked. "We don't sleep the whole night?"
"No," Yashodha nodded. "We offer milk, honey, water, and bel leaves to the Shivling. We chant 'Om Namah Shivaya.' Some people observe strict fasting only fruits and milk. Some eat light food without grains."
Nandini added softly, "It is also believed that unmarried girls fast to get a husband like Lord Shiva calm, strong, loyal."
Everyone slowly looked at Rivan.
Rudraksh whispered, "Too late for that."
Rivan shot him a glare.
Yashodha chuckled. "And married women pray for their husband's long life."
Devyani gasped dramatically.
Rivan looked at her.
Something softened in his eyes.
Yashodha gently cupped Devyani's face.
Virendra nodded. "He drinks poison to save others. That's why his throat is blue Neelkanth."
Devyani leaned forward, fascinated. "He drank poison? Why?"
"To save the universe," Yashodha replied softly. "That's why this night reminds us control your anger, protect your loved ones, and stay devoted."
For a second...
The words lingered in the air.
Control your anger.
Protect your loved ones.
Rivan looked down at his plate.
Something unreadable passed across his face.
Meanwhile, Devyani's mind was working differently.
Devyani nodded seriously.
Rivan closed his eyes briefly and murmured.
But she had already stood up, excited.
Yashodha smiled.
And for the first time in a long while...
The haveli felt less heavy.
Because sometimes
Faith, festivals, and a little innocent curiosity
Were enough to bring light into even the most complicated family.
Devyani had never celebrated Mahashivratri before.
In fact, she had never truly celebrated anything.
Festivals, for her, were once just distant noises temple bells heard from behind closed windows, laughter echoing from streets she wasn't allowed to walk, colors she could see but never touch.
Caging her had once made her believe that the world outside was dangerous.
That joy was temporary.
That traditions were burdens.
That curiosity was a mistake.
But freedom...
Freedom was teaching her differently.
Freedom was teaching her that nothing terrible happens when you light a diya.
That no one screams if you laugh too loud.
That asking questions doesn't earn punishment.
That festivals are not noise they are warmth.
That devotion is not fear.
And so she was excited. Over-excited.
She followed Yashodha everywhere that afternoon like a little apprentice.
"Maa, what is this leaf?"
Every answer widened her eyes more.
She touched everything carefully the silver thali, the incense sticks, the flowers. As if they were delicate treasures.
Reyansh passed by and whispered to Rivan,
"Look at her. She's discovering religion like it's a new app update."
Rivan didn't reply.
He was watching her.
The way she carefully arranged flowers around the small temple.
The way she kept asking, "Is this correct? Maa check once."
The way she smiled when praised.
It wasn't just excitement.
It was healing.
She wasn't just learning about Mahashivratri.
She was learning belonging.
At one point she stood near the courtyard temple, hands folded, looking at the Shivling quietly.
No dramatic expressions.
No chatter.
Just silence.
And in that silence, there was something fragile.
She didn't know the mantras properly.
She didn't know the rituals perfectly.
But she knew one thing
This time, no one would drag her away from the celebration.
This time, she was allowed to stay.
She turned suddenly and ran toward Rivan.
He raised a brow. "Full fast?"
She ignored that.
There was innocence in her voice.
But there was something else too.
Growth.
Caging her had once convinced her the world was cruel.
Freedom was teaching her that the world could also be gentle.
And Rivan...
For the first time,
He wondered whether he was capable of being gentle enough for her.
.
.
.
.
The courtyard was glowing softly with marigold strings and half-done decorations. Devyani had flowers in her lap and determination on her face a very dangerous combination.
Rivan stood a little distance away, watching her try to tie a garland that was clearly winning the battle.
"Kitten," he called calmly, "that's not how you tie it."
She glared at the flower string. "It's not cooperating."
She gasped softly. "You don't know. It has attitude."
He walked closer, crouching beside her. "Move."
She huffed and handed it over dramatically. "Fine. Show me, Mr. Experienced."
He adjusted the thread effortlessly, fingers steady, movements precise.
She stared.
Not at the garland.
At him.
The way he concentrated. The way his brows slightly furrowed. The way he handled even small things with control.
"You're very serious even while tying flowers," she murmured.
She tilted her head. "Not even feelings?"
His hands paused for a second.
"Especially not feelings."
That answer silenced her playful expression.
She looked down at her fingers. "Maa said girls fast for their husbands tomorrow."
She hesitated.
Then softly, "Because... I want God to protect you."
She blinked. "What?"
Her lips parted but no words came out.
He tied the last knot and handed her the finished garland.
"You don't need to suffer for someone to prove you care," he said.
"It's not suffering," she protested. "It's love."
He looked at her then. Properly.
She nodded innocently. "Isn't it?"
He leaned back slightly, studying her.
"No," he said calmly. "Love is protecting. Even when the other person doesn't know they need protection."
She suddenly leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "Also... tomorrow you have to sit beside me in pooja. No escaping for office."
"There," she said proudly. "Practice."
He removed it immediately.
She giggled.
He paused mid-step and looked down at her.
Before she could react, he bent slightly and lifted her straight into his arms.
"Pati ji!" she gasped, instinctively wrapping her hands around his neck. "What are you doing?"
"Practice," he said calmly.
Her eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. "You are very smart."
She tried to look offended, but the corner of her lips betrayed her.
As they moved through the corridor, she lowered her voice. "So... you are coming to pooja tomorrow, na?"
The answer came flat. Immediate. Firm.
She blinked. "No?"
Her fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder. "Please?"
He didn't look at her this time. "I don't do rituals."
"It's not ritual," she argued softly. "It's... festival."
She tried again, gentler. "Just sit beside me. You don't have to pray."
Silence.
His tone wasn't loud. It wasn't angry.
It was closed.
And she understood that tone.
She slowly released the tiny protest forming on her lips.
"Okay."
He glanced down at her. She wasn't sulking dramatically. She wasn't arguing. She wasn't pushing.
She just went quiet.
That quiet made him uncomfortable.
He entered the room and placed her carefully on the bed.
She adjusted her saree and looked away, pretending to examine the wall.
"You stopped fighting," he observed.
"You said no."
"And?"
"And when you say no like that... it means wall."
A small flicker passed through his eyes.
She added lightly, trying to ease it, "It's okay. I will sit alone. God will understand."
That sentence did something to him.
He didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he stepped closer, standing in front of her.
She shrugged. "I didn't say that."
She looked up at him then honest, open.
"I just wanted you there," she said softly. "Not for God. For me."
The room went still.
He exhaled slowly.
"You are impossible," he muttered.
She blinked. "Why?"
He looked at her for a long second.
Devyani skipped out of the room with that soft glow still sitting on her face.
Halfway down the corridor
"Kaizaaaaaan!"
The little boy came running with his uneven, fast-fast steps, almost slipping on the marble floor before crashing straight into her legs.
She bent instantly, scooping him up.
"Where were you hiding?"
He grabbed her cheeks with both hands and giggled.
It was their ritual.
Mumma-and-son time.
She sat down on the carpet with him, letting him climb over her like she was some personal mountain. He tugged her braid. She tickled his tiny feet. He tried to steal her bangles. She pretended to cry dramatically.
The sound of their laughter echoed through the haveli like wind chimes.
For a moment, everything felt light.
Downstairs, the entire house was buzzing.
Even the staff were moving around with trays, fabrics, incense samples.
Maha Shivratri preparations had officially begun.
And in the middle of all this chaos
Devyani entered like a festival herself.
Kaizan with her.
Eyes shining.
Excitement practically radiating from her skin.
She clapped her hands once.
Everyone turned.
They blinked.
She walked straight to Virendra.
Silence.
Reyansh coughed.
"Every... human being?" he repeated.
"Yes!" she declared confidently. "No one should feel left out. Call everyone. Neighbors. Workers. Friends. Their friends. Their friends' friends. Even milkman."
Virendra tried to remain serious. "Beta... that might be difficult."
She paused.
Virendra rubbed his forehead. "Devyani, it's not about size. It's about devotion."
Yashodhara softened. "Yes, beta."
That question made the room quiet.
Even the staff slowed down.
She continued, more thoughtful now.
"When I was... not here..." she hesitated slightly, "...I didn't know festivals like this existed. If someone had invited me, maybe I would have felt... included."
That shifted something.
Virendra's expression changed.
Yashodhara's eyes turned moist.
She adjusted Kaizan on her lap.
Rivan, who had come downstairs silently and was leaning against the pillar, heard every word.
His gaze didn't leave her.
Virendra cleared his throat.
"Okay."
Everyone looked at him.
Devyani gasped. "Really?!"
Reyansh added, "Fine. But if entire city comes, you will serve prasad."
She nodded enthusiastically. "Done!"
Virendra folded his arms, pretending to think very seriously.
Instant silence.
Reyansh coughed dramatically. "Yes, because if Mr. Control-Freak says no, then even Lord Shiva will need appointment to enter."
Aradhya giggled.
Virendra continued, "He won't agree so easily to open invitation. Security, crowd, management... he will calculate risk first."
Before anyone could overthink it
Devyani stood up confidently.
"Don't worry."
She crossed her arms, chin up.
Gasps.
Aradhya almost choked on her water. "You will WHAT?"
"Yes!" Devyani declared proudly. "He needs some lessons."
Rivan had stopped mid-walk.
He hadn't meant to listen.
But he had.
And when he heard
His ears turned visibly red.
At that exact moment
Rivan stepped forward into the room.
Everyone froze.
Devyani blinked.
"Oh."
His face was calm.
Too calm.
He looked at her.
Rivan walked closer to her, lowering his voice just enough so only she could hear.
Her cheeks instantly heated.
He stepped back, composed again.
"We'll discuss arrangements tonight," he said to Virendra calmly.
And just like that
He turned and walked away.
Jinal and Reyansh left mid-morning to pick up Yashodha's friends from the station.
Their bickering could be heard even before the car exited the gates.
"Don't touch the playlist," Jinal warned.
"I'm driving," Reyansh shot back. "Driver chooses music."
"And passenger chooses volume," she replied coolly.
Inside the haveli, preparations swallowed the entire day.
Before sunrise.
The haveli was already awake.
Soft temple bells echoed in the courtyard.
Women in silk sarees moved like flowing colors through the corridors.
Men in crisp kurtas discussed arrangements.
Devyani was the brightest among them.
Her eyes sparkled like a child on festival morning.
She was everywhere.
Learning.
Absorbing.
Breathing in the festival like it was her first taste of freedom.
Everyone got ready to leave for the temple.
Everyone.
Except Rivan.
He stood near the staircase, already dressed for work.
Watching.
Observing.
Devyani paused in front of him.
"You're not coming?"
"Okay," she said softly.
But her eyes held a small disappointment before she turned and left with the others.
The convoy of cars rolled out.
Temple bells.
Chants.
Offerings of milk and bilva leaves to Lord Shiva.
Yashodha explained each ritual patiently to Devyani.
"This is about devotion," she said. "About surrender. About strength in silence."
Devyani listened carefully.
Somewhere in her heart, she wondered if devotion also meant loving someone who stood at a distance.
The fast had officially begun.
Yashodha, Rekha, Devyani, Jinal, Payal, and Aradhya sat together in the courtyard after the morning rituals faces glowing, stomachs very much not glowing.
Meanwhile
Right in front of them
Rudraksh sat like a villain in a comedy show.
With a plate.
A very full plate.
Hot puris.
Paneer.
Kheer.
And he made sure to eat slowly.
Very slowly.
"Hmmmm," he exaggerated, tearing a piece of puri. "This is divine. Are you sure you all don't want just one bite? Lord Shiva will understand."
Aradhya threw a cushion at him.
"Go away!"
He dodged dramatically. "Violence during fast? Very sinful."
Devyani watched his plate like it was a forbidden treasure chest.
"Why is the smell stronger today?" she whispered.
"Because you're fasting," Jinal replied dryly.
Lunch time arrived.
The men usually gathered by now.
But today
Silence.
Yashodha stood and said calmly, "Rudraksh beta, call everyone for lunch."
He saluted lazily and went.
Five minutes later
He returned alone.
"Badi maa, I called everyone."
"And?" she asked.
"They said they're not hungry."
A small smile appeared on Yashodha's lips.
"Everyone?"
"Hmm," he nodded. "Even Bhaiyya."
That smile widened just slightly.
She understood.
Rekha caught it too.
Because Rivan never fasted.
Never participated.
Never showed interest.
And yet
He had refused lunch.
Quietly.
Reyansh entered, walking a little too normally.
Yashodha turned instantly.
He froze.
"Me?"
His eyes widened. "Aunty... I... I have already eaten."
And before she could drag him to the table
He escaped.
Literally ran.
The women exchanged looks.
And by evening
The haveli transformed.
It no longer looked like a private mansion.
It looked like a royal celebration.
Lights glowed along the walls.
Musicians tuned instruments.
Priests prepared the havan.
Security doubled.
Because tonight
The entire Rajasthan elite had been invited.
Industrialists.
Politicians.
Business magnates.
Old royal families.
People whispered outside the gates.
Curiosity mixed with excitement.
Yes, they were intimidated by Rivan.
His name alone carried weight.
Power.
Fear.
But when they heard he had personally invited them
The tone changed.
Excitement replaced hesitation.
"Maybe he's changing."
Inside the haveli
Virendra stood near the entrance, adjusting his shawl.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly.
Rivan stood beside him.
Calm.
Unreadable.
Virendra studied his son for a long moment.
For a second
Something softened in his eyes.
"She does," he said quietly.
And that was reason enough.
As the sun dipped lower
The gates opened.
Cars began entering one after another.
Rajasthan arrived.
Not just for the pooja.
But to see him.
And maybe
To see the woman who had somehow brought light into a house that once lived in controlled silence.
Evening descended slowly over the haveli.
The sky turned molten orange, then deep purple.
Lights flickered on one by one across the courtyard.
Incense smoke curled into the air like whispered prayers.
Inside their room
Devyani stood in front of the mirror.
For once, she wasn't rushing.
She wasn't plotting.
She wasn't giggling.
She was... glowing.
Carefully, she draped the red saree around herself rich silk with golden borders that caught the light with every movement.
She adjusted the pleats twice.
Then thrice.
Because tonight had to be perfect.
She filled her maang with sindoor.
Not lightly.
But deeply.
Bright red.
Claiming her place.
Mangalsutra resting against her collarbone.
Red glass bangles chiming softly as she moved.
A small red bindi centered perfectly on her forehead.
Kajal darkened her eyes.
Lips tinted just enough.
Her hair tied into a neat bun adorned with fresh jasmine.
She looked
Not like the curious, restless girl of the house.
But like a newly married woman stepping into her own world.
Like devotion wrapped in silk.
Like strength disguised as softness.
She inhaled slowly.
"Okay Devu," she whispered to her reflection. "Don't trip on the saree."
Just as she turned
The door opened.
Rivan stepped in.
And stopped.
Completely.
His breath paused.
Actually paused.
For a moment he forgot why he came inside.
She stood near the lamp, golden light touching her face.
The red of her saree almost glowing against her skin.
Sindoor bright.
Eyes lowered slightly.
She looked... unreal.
Like an apsara who had mistakenly walked into his room.
He swallowed.
Hard.
She noticed.
"Why are you staring like that?" she asked softly, trying to act normal.
He didn't answer immediately.
He just looked at her.
From head.
To toe.
But with something deeper.
Something almost reverent.
"You..." he exhaled finally.
She tilted her head. "Me?"
He stepped closer.
Slow.
Measured.
As if sudden movement might break the moment.
And failed.
So he said the simplest truth.
"Beautiful."
Her lashes fluttered.
She wasn't prepared for that tone.
It wasn't teasing.
It wasn't playful.
It was raw.
Honest.
His fingers lifted slightly but stopped mid-air.
As if he wasn't sure he was allowed to touch something so divine.
"You look like..." he tried again, voice lower now, "you belong in a temple."
She smiled shyly.
He moved a strand of jasmine that had fallen near her neck.
His fingers brushed her skin lightly.
Warmth spread instantly.
She turned to leave.
He said quietly
"Wait."
Just one word.
But it stopped her instantly.
She looked back at him.
"For what?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he walked toward the closet.
Slow.
Measured.
She stood there, confused.
Her bangles made a soft sound as she folded her hands nervously.
Her heart did a small, unnecessary panic.
Inside the closet, fabric shifted.
Hangers moved.
A drawer closed.
Seconds stretched.
Then
He stepped out.
Wearing cream.
A deep cream kurta.
Simple.
Elegant.
Traditional.
For a second
She forgot how to breathe.
Her eyes widened slowly.
The world dimmed around the edges.
He adjusted his sleeves casually, unaware of the storm he had just created in her chest.
He looked different.
Less corporate.
Less distant.
The cream softened his sharpness.
Made him look warmer.
Approachable.
Like he belonged in the pooja mandap beside her.
Her eyes shimmered slightly.
Not dramatic tears.
Just emotion gathering quietly.
"You..." her voice trembled a little.
He looked at her. "What?"
"You're coming?"
He shrugged lightly. "Hmm."
That's all.
Just hmm.
But it meant everything.
Her throat tightened.
"You said no," she whispered.
He walked closer, fixing the cuff near his wrist.
"I changed my mind."
She blinked quickly, trying to stop the moisture in her eyes.
"Why?"
He looked at her.
Really looked at her.
"Because my wife is wearing red."
Silence.
Her lips parted slightly.
"And?" she whispered.
"And," he stepped closer, lowering his voice, "it wouldn't look good if she stood alone."
That was it.
Simple.
Direct.
Protective.
Her fingers unconsciously reached for his sleeve.
Before stepping out of the room
He reached for her hand.
Not loosely.
Not casually.
He intertwined his fingers with hers.
Firm.
Secure.
"Don't leave my hand," he said quietly.
She looked at their joined hands.
Then at him.
A soft smile touched her lips.
They stepped into the corridor together.
And walked downstairs.
The haveli was unrecognizable.
The garden glowed under golden fairy lights.
Rows of diyas lined the pathways.
Fresh marigold garlands hung from every pillar.
In the center of the lawn, a beautifully decorated temple mandap stood, draped in white and red cloth, flowers cascading from the top like blessings.
The entire garden was filled with guests.
Industrialists.
Old royal families.
Business tycoons.
Social elites of Rajasthan.
Soft chants played in the background.
Priests prepared the havan kund.
Servants moved gracefully with trays of welcome drinks.
Conversations buzzed in polite tones
Until they entered.
The main staircase curved elegantly toward the garden entrance.
And as Rivan and Devyani stepped down
One by one
Heads turned.
Voices lowered.
Silence spread like a ripple.
Gasps followed.
Because there he was.
Rivan Thakur.
In his own house.
Not in a suit.
Not in black.
Not distant.
But in a cream kurta.
Traditional.
Present.
Holding his wife's hand.
Someone whispered, "He actually came..."
Another murmured, "This is the first time..."
Curious eyes followed them.
Some were shocked.
Some impressed.
Some genuinely happy.
Some simply stunned.
Because Rivan was known to avoid gatherings.
Avoid rituals.
Avoid visibility.
And yet
Tonight he stood right at the center of it all.
Beside her.
Devyani felt the weight of attention immediately.
But instead of shrinking
She smiled.
Soft.
Graceful.
Radiant.
Her red saree glowed under the lights.
Sindoor bright.
Mangalsutra resting proudly.
She looked every bit the Thakur bahu.
The Thakur family stood near the mandap.
Virendra blinked twice.
Reyansh's mouth actually fell open.
Aradhya nudged Jinal, whispering, "Is that really him?"
Even Yashodha froze for a moment.
Her eyes softened slowly.
She had never seen him like this.
She didn't see the distant son.
She saw a man standing beside his wife.
Choosing to be there.
As they reached the mandap area
Rivan didn't let go of Devyani's hand.
Not even when elders approached.
Not even when greetings began.
His grip remained steady.
Almost protective.
Almost possessive.
Almost proud.
And as the priest announced the beginning of the grand Maha Shivratri pooja
Under the eyes of Rajasthan.
The Thakur couple stood side by side.
The chants grew louder.
The sound vibrated through the garden, through the night air, through the hearts of everyone present.
One by one, couples stepped forward.
Offering milk to the Shivling.
Pouring water.
Placing bel leaves gently.
Whispering prayers only they and God could hear.
Then
"It is Mr. and Mrs. Thakur's turn," the priest announced.
A soft murmur spread again.
Rivan stepped forward.
Still holding her hand.
Devyani walked beside him, head slightly bowed, pallu resting over her hair.
They stood before the Shivling.
The fire crackled softly nearby.
The priest guided them.
"Offer the milk together."
Their hands touched the same kalash.
Milk flowed over the black stone, white against dark.
"Now the flowers."
She placed them carefully.
He followed.
Their movements were slow.
Synchronized.
Not rehearsed.
Just... natural.
As Devyani bent slightly to adjust the thali
Her pallu began slipping from her head.
Before it could fall
Rivan lifted his hand.
Gently.
Carefully.
He adjusted it back over her hair.
His fingers brushed her temple lightly.
The gesture was simple.
But intimate.
Protective.
Several guests exchanged smiles.
Yashodha's eyes glistened faintly.
The priest continued the mantras.
They circled the havan together.
Firelight danced across their faces.
Cream reflected against red.
Then
The priest cleared his throat softly and said traditionally,
There was a respectful silence.
It was ritual.
Expected.
Devyani instinctively began to bend.
But before she could
Rivan stepped slightly forward.
The word was calm.
Not loud.
But firm.
The priest blinked. "It is tradition—"
Rivan folded his hands respectfully toward the priest.
"With due respect," he said evenly, "I don't believe devotion should mean lowering yourself."
A murmur passed through the guests.
He continued, voice steady.
Devyani slowly straightened.
Her eyes lifted toward him.
He didn't look at the crowd.
He looked at her.
The priest studied him for a moment.
Then nodded slowly.
Virendra exhaled under his breath.
Reyansh muttered, "He just rewrote tradition."
Her eyes filled.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Instead of bending
They both folded their hands toward the Shivling.
Together.
Equal.
Side by side.
And as the conch shell blew loudly
It didn't feel like a ritual completed.
It felt like a statement made.
Without shouting.
Without disrespect.
Just
With quiet strength.
The priest smiled warmly after the final mantra.
"You may now take blessings from your elders."
The atmosphere shifted again.
Devyani's face brightened instantly.
She loved this part.
Blessings felt warm.
Safe.
Sacred.
But the Thakur family
Hesitated.
Because there was one silent truth everyone knew.
Rivan never bowed.
Never bent.
Not in front of anyone.
Not even elders.
He respected
But from a distance.
So when Devyani instinctively stepped forward
Everyone assumed she would go alone.
But they were wrong.
Rivan moved with her.
Without pause.
Without hesitation.
The first ones seated were Samarveer and Rajmata.
The pillars of the older generation.
Powerful.
Respected.
Even they seemed uncertain.
Rivan stepped forward.
And before anyone could process
He bent.
Not dramatically.
Not reluctantly.
But fully.
Touching their feet.
Devyani followed beside him.
A collective gasp rose from the guests.
Rajmata's eyes widened slightly.
Samarveer froze for a second before placing his hand over Rivan's head.
"Stay strong," he murmured.
"Stay united," Rajmata added softly.
They blessed Devyani too.
But the shock hadn't faded yet.
Because
After straightening
Rivan didn't step back.
He turned.
And began walking toward
Yashodha.
And Virendra.
Silence fell instantly.
Even the wind felt like it stopped.
Yashodha stiffened.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of her saree.
Virendra straightened unconsciously.
This
Was unexpected.
Rivan stopped in front of them.
For a second
He looked at Virendra.
Then at Yashodha.
No anger.
No bitterness.
Just a steady gaze.
Devyani stood beside him, watching nervously.
Then
Without announcement
Rivan bent.
Touched Virendra's feet.
Virendra's breath caught in his chest.
His hand trembled slightly as he placed it on Rivan's head.
"Be blessed," he said, voice thick.
And then
Rivan shifted.
Toward Yashodha.
For a fraction of a second
She stepped back.
As if she didn't deserve it.
But he bent anyway.
Touching her feet.
The entire garden went silent.
Utterly silent.
Yashodha's eyes filled instantly.
Rivan remained slightly bent.
Waiting.
Yashodha stood frozen.
Her hands hovered mid-air, trembling.
Tears gathered faster than she could control.
He slowly straightened but did not step back.
Instead, he looked at her directly.
"Bless me, Mrs. Thakur," he said quietly.
Yashodha blinked rapidly, trying to clear her blurred vision.
She opened her mouth to speak
But no words came.
He continued softly,
The word hung in the air.
Mother.
Not Mrs. Thakur.
Not anything else.
Mother.
Her tears broke free completely.
She stepped forward.
Placed her palm fully over his head.
Then over Devyani's.
"May you both stay protected," she whispered, voice shaking.
"May no evil touch your bond."
"May you both always walk together."
Her other hand cupped his cheek for a second
Instinctively.
Virendra placed his hand on Yashodha's shoulder gently.
For the first time in years
The distance between them didn't feel like a wall.
It felt like something slowly dissolving.
Rivan finally stepped back.
Like a mother who forgot her distance.
Rivan didn't move away.
Didn't stiffen.
Didn't react.
He just stood there.
Still.
Allowing it.
Devyani's eyes filled too.
She glanced between them, sensing something deep but not fully understanding its history.
Around them
Almost every family member had moist eyes.
He didn't look around.
He didn't acknowledge the stares.
He simply stood beside Devyani again.
And quietly took her hand.
In the crowd
People weren't whispering about business anymore.
They weren't discussing power.
They were witnessing something far more rare.
Change.
And perhaps
Reconciliation.
Virendra cleared his throat softly.
Reyansh blinked rapidly like he had dust in his eyes.
Aradhya whispered, "Is this real life?"
Jinal nodded slowly. "Looks like it."
And Devyani
She didn't fully understand the depth of what had just happened.
The final aarti flame circled before Lord Shiva.
The chants softened.
The priest announced the completion of the pooja.
"It is time to break the fast."
Silver plates of prasad were brought forward.
Sweetened fruits.
Panchamrit.
Sacred offerings blessed in the ritual.
Rivan picked up a small portion first.
Without being told.
Without being reminded.
He turned toward Devyani.
She looked at him curiously.
He lifted the prasad toward her lips.
"Open," he said quietly.
She blinked.
A soft smile curved her mouth.
She obeyed.
He fed her gently.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Like the crowd didn't exist.
Like the lights weren't blinding.
She chewed slowly.
Then leaned closer and whispered,
"You can break your fast too."
His ears turned faintly red.
She noticed instantly.
Her smile widened mischievously.
He cleared his throat and took a small bite himself.
The Thakur family exchanged knowing glances.
Then she said brightly,
She took a step forward.
But his fingers tightened around her wrist.
"No."
She turned.
"Why?"
"You're not leaving my side."
There was no anger.
Just certainty.
"I'll come with you."
Her expression softened.
Together, they stepped into the crowd.
People straightened as they approached.
Some folded hands nervously.
Some avoided eye contact.
Some looked at him with cautious admiration.
When Rivan extended the prasad—
Hands trembled slightly.
Not out of disrespect.
But awe.
Yet every person accepted it with gratitude.
"Thank you, Mr. Thakur."
"Blessings to you both."
"Such a beautiful arrangement."
He nodded politely.
Spoke calmly.
Listened.
Answered.
For once
He wasn't intimidating.
He wasn't cold.
He wasn't distant.
He welcomed them.
Spoke like a host.
Walked like a man at peace.
Virendra watched from afar.
Reyansh leaned toward him.
Virendra exhaled slowly.
Meanwhile, Devyani moved gently beside him.
Smiling.
Offering prasad.
Her bangles chiming softly with each movement.
And then
Her eyes caught something beyond the decorated area.
Near the outer gate.
A small group of beggars stood.
Watching.
Hesitant.
Uncertain whether they were allowed inside such grandeur.
Her heart clenched instantly.
Without thinking
She stepped away.
"Dev—" Rivan started.
But she was already moving.
She walked toward the gate.
Guests turned to see where she was going.
She reached the beggars.
An elderly woman.
Two small children.
A thin man with tired eyes.
She knelt slightly.
Smiling warmly.
"It's prasad," she said softly.
The children looked unsure.
The old woman folded her hands repeatedly.
As if they were no less important than the elite inside.
As if the line between status did not exist for her.
The old woman hesitated.
Devyani nodded eagerly.
Rivan stepped forward then.
His presence made them stiffen.
But his voice was calm.
Security looked confused.
Just two words.
Guests.
And suddenly
The boundary dissolved.
The beggars were guided gently toward the side seating.
Given water.
Given food.
Not charity.
Respect.
Devyani looked up at Rivan.
Her eyes shining.
He didn't say anything.
Just gave her a small nod.
As if to say
I understand.
And in that moment
The grand pooja became grand for the right reason.
Not because Rajasthan's elite attended.
But because no one was turned away.
Under the same lights.
Under the same sky.
Blessings belonged to everyone.
At first
It felt like compassion multiplying.
One beggar became three.
Three became ten.
Word spread beyond the haveli gates.
More people gathered outside.
And because Rivan had said, "They are guests"—
Security hesitated.
They didn't stop anyone.
That
Was the biggest mistake of the night.
Within minutes, the calm flow of guests shifted.
Meanhwile.
Devyani tugged his sleeve lightly.
He looked down at her.
"I'll be back," she said. "Kaizan is waiting. He'll cry if he doesn't see me."
He studied her face for a second.
Then nodded.
Rivan turned back toward the gate.
His expression now unreadable.
Security began tightening the entry.
New arrivals were politely stopped.
But the sudden shift caused unrest.
Virendra approached quietly.
Rivan didn't respond immediately.
His eyes scanned every corner.
Calculating.
Assessing.
Then he spoke low.
Security obeyed instantly.
But in the chaos
In the confusion of voices
In the movement of people
Time slipped.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Then more.
Inside
Kaizan was indeed asking for Devyani.
Yashodha assumed she was with Rivan.
Rivan assumed she was inside.
No one noticed the gap immediately.
Until
Reyansh frowned.
Aradhya looked around.
Rivan's head turned sharply.
His eyes searched the garden.
The mandap.
The seating.
The inner entrance.
She wasn't there.
His jaw tightened.
He stepped toward the haveli doors.
"Did she come inside?" he asked a servant.
The servant hesitated.
A cold stillness settled in his chest.
He moved quickly now.
Through corridors.
Through rooms.
Calling once
"Devyani."
No answer.
The festive lights outside suddenly felt harsh.
The chanting music now distant.
The mistake wasn't kindness.
The mistake was distraction.
And she
Had not returned.
Rivan's expression darkened completely.
The kurta no longer looked festive.
It looked like a warning.
Something was wrong.
And he felt it.
????????guys
New chapter is like dhak dhak ????
Litrly it was so difficult to describe his pain and uska pain batate batate Mujhe pain horaha hai????????i need therapy now ??
Glimspe:
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How's the chapter?????
Don't forget the target babies????