13. Colours of Tradition
The next morning felt like a festival had simply paused for a few hours and resumed louder.They had moved into the wedding venue, around the outskirts of the city
A sprawling property with manicured lawns, glass corridors, and rooms that smelled faintly of fresh flowers and room freshener.
For the next two days, this would be home.
By 9 a.m., the corridors were already alive.
Cousins ran between rooms carrying garment bags.
Someone argued about speaker placement.A makeup artist knocked on the wrong door.
An uncle practiced a dance step near the staircase, unaware he was being filmed.
On one end of the venue, Ruhika's side had taken over two large suites.On the other, Shivansh's family had done the same.
Keeping traditions and beliefs in mind it was decided by both the families that he would still need to go back home after Sangeet and Haldi, to be back with the baraat
By evening Ruhika sat near the tall window while Tara hovered like an overly invested stylist.
Her Sangeet outfit lay draped on the bed behind her.
Soft shimmer.
Nothing loud — but impossible to ignore.
The blouse was structured and elegant, the lehanga fluid enough to move freely, the dupatta sheer with delicate embroidery catching the light like dusted gold.
"You look expensive," Mehak declared dramatically.
"I hope so," Ruhika muttered, adjusting her earring. "It cost enough."
There was an ease to her today. The room itself was a pleasant chaos.
Ruhika caught her reflection in the mirror again as the makeup artist stepped back to inspect her work.
The look was stunning — dewy, warm-toned, subtle contouring, nothing overly bridal. Her hair had been styled into soft waves cascading over one shoulder, framing her face without overpowering it.
Her mehendi had darkened beautifully overnight — a rich brown that contrasted perfectly against the champagne gold.
Isha gasped suddenly. "Wait, wait — pose."
Before Ruhika could protest, she whipped out her phone. "Natural laugh," she instructed.
Ruhika burst out properly this time — head tilting back slightly, mehendi-covered hands instinctively lifting to avoid touching anything.
Isha checked the picture and softened."That's it," she murmured. "That's how I want to remember this."
Mehak nudged Isha's shoulder. "Don't get emotional before makeup smudges."
Ruhika smiled at both of them — a smile that wasn't posed or composed. "Thank you," she said quietly.
"For what?" Mehak asked.
"For... being here. Making sure I don't feel I'm missing on having a sibling on my wedding. Her eyes were glassy but she smiled immediately to cover it
Then, without ruining her eyeliner, Mehak leaned forward and pressed her forehead lightly to Ruhika's shoulder.
"You're not missing anything," she said softly. "You're gaining an entire circus. We're not going anywhere."
Isha sniffed loudly in mock offense. "Excuse me? I have been her unpaid emotional support human since 2015."
__________
Across the venue, in a suite that looked far less organized than the bride's, Shivansh stood in front of a full-length mirror, fastening the final button of his tuxedo, a classic black with embroidered shouldered to give it that subtle bling, needed for the day
Aarav had half his outfit laid out on the bed and the other half draped over a chair.
Rohan was seated cross-legged on the carpet, attempting to fix the pleats of his scarf while watching a dance tutorial on his phone.
She suddenly Aarav uttered, "Tonight is the farewell party for our bachelor brother."
Rohan walked over, circling him like an inspector. "That's what they all say. Today you're calm. Tomorrow you'll be saying things like, 'Let me check with her.'"
Aarav gasped dramatically. "He already says that."
Shivansh finally looked at them properly. "You both are insufferable."
Rohan slung an arm around Shivansh's shoulder briefly. "Just promise one thing."
Aarav's jaw dropped. "You didn't even think about it!"
Shivansh finally looked at them — and this time, he was smiling. Not the restrained half-curve. An actual, visible smile."I know both of you," he said calmly. "If she complains, it will be valid."
Rohan gasped. "Betrayal."
Aarav clutched his chest. "We raised you better than this."
"Emotionally, we did."
Rohan leaned closer, squinting. "Wait. Why are you smiling like that?"
Shivansh adjusted his cuff one last time. "I don't."
Aarav pointed accusingly. "That's the 'I'm about to see her smile."
Rohan opened the door dramatically. "Let's go, Mr. Future Husband. Time to perform."
Shivansh stepped out first. "Try to keep up," he said mildly.
And behind him, the laughter followed.
________
By the time they came downstairs, the lawn no longer looked like the same place they had walked through in the afternoon.
Night had settled softly over the venue.
Fairy lights hung from trees like constellations pulled closer to earth. Glass lanterns flickered along the pathways. The stage at the far end shimmered under warm amber spotlights, framed by florals in ivory and muted gold.
Guests were already gathering — silks, velvets, sequins catching the light. Laughter rose in pockets.
Aarav clapped above his head as the dhol player struck the first loud beat. Rohan immediately joined, already dancing without waiting for permission.
Shivansh followed between them, smiling faintly but not resisting the rhythm.
A few aunties cheered.Someone whistled. Phones lifted instantly.
Champagne gold glowed under the lights.The soft shimmer of her skirt caught every movement. Her hair fell in effortless waves over her shoulders
A murmur moved through the guests.
"She looks beautiful."
"Classy."
"Very elegant."
Shivansh adjusted his stance casually, as if repositioning for comfort — but his gaze didn't waver.
When she reached the final step, Isha appeared at her side, whispering something that made her laugh — and that laugh did something to him.
Then she reached her seat.Sat down gracefully, adjusting the fall of her Lehanga. Isha leaned in again, whispering something conspiratorial.
Ruhika pretended not to react.But when she glanced up once more—He was still looking.
Before he could resist further, he found himself walking toward her side of the lawn. He noticed the slight shift of her lehenga as she adjusted it, making room without making it obvious.
He sat down beside her. Comfortable?" he asked quietly.
She glanced at him once, then at the lawn where everyone was pretending not to watch them.
"Now I am," she replied.
________
The first beat of the dhol cut through the night like a spark and someone from the DJ console shouted, "Let's begin!"
A group of younger cousins rushed the stage first — chaotic, mismatched, loud. They started with a dramatic Bollywood medley, deliberately overacting every lyric.
Aarav was pulled up halfway through, protesting until the music switched to an old Punjabi wedding classic and he gave up pretending. His shoulders loosened. His smile widened. Within seconds he was fully in it.
Rohan, far less coordinated but far more enthusiastic, joined him. At one point he missed a beat so spectacularly that even Shivansh laughed out loud.
Ruhika leaned toward him. "Your friend is dancing like he's made to do it on gunpoint
The music shifted again — this time slower, nostalgic. Their parents had clearly planned something.
Her mother and his mother walked onto the stage together first, mock-formal, hands folded. The crowd quieted. And then the music began — an old romantic Punjabi track from their era.
The aunties clapped in rhythm. The uncles joined in halfway through.
Ruhika felt something warm expand in her chest watching them.
He noticed.
"You okay?" he murmured.
She nodded, eyes still on the stage. "I didn't know they practiced."
The performances continued — cousins reenacting how the proposal "must have happened," wildly exaggerated. One cousin played Shivansh as a stoic robot. Another portrayed Ruhika as a dramatic heroine flipping her hair every five seconds.
"That is slander," she muttered.
He didn't argue. He just raised a brow.
Midway through the teasing skit, Isha grabbed a mic.
"Now," she announced dramatically, "it's time for the bride's best friend to expose secrets."
The crowd whooped.Ruhika's eyes widened. "Don't you dare."
She grinned wickedly. "Relax. I signed an NDA."
Instead of secrets, she began a heartfelt but playful speech about watching Ruhika pretend she wasn't nervous while secretly reorganizing her wardrobe three times in one week.
Okay,she said into the mic, pacing the stage like a stand-up comic. "Fun fact. In college, this woman once made a three-slide presentation explaining why she would not get married before thirty."
The lawn erupted.
Ruhika shot up halfway from her seat. "It was not three slides!"
She said if she ever got married, it would be because she chose it. Not because time ran out. Not because people insisted. But because it felt right."
The laughter softened just a little.Ruhika's smile didn't fade — but it shifted.
And," Isha softened slightly, voice losing some of its theatrics, "she pretends she doesn't overthink. But I've seen her sit at 1 AM staring at her mehendi design like it's going to reveal her future."
Ruhika's expression shifted — embarrassed, but smiling.
"She won't say this herself," Tara went on, glancing briefly toward Shivansh, "but she's tried very hard to step into this with grace. Even when she's nervous. Even when she doesn't show it."
Isha hopped off the stage before anyone could clap too formally and walked straight to Ruhika.
Without another word, she wrapped her arms around her.
When they pulled apart, Ruhika wiped under her eyes quickly, pretending it was just stray glitter.
Shivansh had been watching the entire exchange quietly.
When Ruhika glanced at him — slightly embarrassed, slightly glassy-eyed .
He didn't smile broadly.He simply held her gaze for a second longer than necessary.
"Enough softness. DJ, volume up!"
The beat switched abruptly to an upbeat Punjabi track and Mehak grabbed Tara by the wrist. Within seconds the two of them were in the center of the lawn
The girls were fully in it now — hair flipping, shoulders bouncing, matching expressions of mock arrogance as the chorus hit. The crowd cheered wildly.
Rohan and Aarav joined halfway through and immediately ruined the symmetry, which somehow made it better.
The night loosened.Shoes were abandoned near the stage.Someone tied up their dupatta to free their arms. The DJ transitioned into a remix and suddenly it was less performance, more party.
Then — unexpectedly — the lights dimmed slightly.
Ruhika frowned faintly. "What?"
Before she could process it, Shivansh was already being pulled toward the stage.He didn't protest this time.
He didn't overact it. Didn't try to imitate a music video. But he knew the beats.The transitions.The hook step.
He moved with clean confidence — understated, controlled, but undeniably present.
Her mouth fell open. "You practiced," she mouthed.
He didn't answer. Just continued.
The cousins lost their minds. Even the aunties were laughing, clapping along to a song they barely understood. When the performance ended, he didn't take a bow.He just stepped down, slightly flushed but composed.
She looked at him, almost accusing and said, " How do you know I'm hooked to this song since it released"?
Before she could recover, her parents were being ushered toward the stage. Her father held out his hand to her."Come," he said gently.
She stood. The lawn quieted.
Her father wasn't a dancer. Everyone knew that. But he swayed with her carefully, smiling in that proud, slightly overwhelmed way fathers do at weddings.
Her mother joined halfway through, laughing at her husband's lack of rhythm.
Ruhika felt it then — not sadness, not yet — but a shift.
She had grown up in their home.And now she was dancing in front of them as a bride-to-be.
Her father leaned closer and said softly, "Happy?"
She returned to her seat, the champagne fabric settling around her.
Shivansh didn't ask questions.Didn't tilt his head or search her face.
Before the next song could start, Isha reappeared with two glasses.
"Celebration," she announced.
Aarav followed behind her with exaggerated seriousness. "Hydration for emotional stability."
Ruhika eyed the drink suspiciously. "Is this what I think it is?"
Ruhika lowered her voice slightly. "I'm the bride."
"I'm a light drinker."
She gave him a look. "You're enjoying this."
He tilted his head slightly, eyes warm with mischief. "You're whispering like we're planning a robbery."
Aarav suddenly leaned in from behind them. "Why are you two huddling? Are we plotting elopement?"
"Suspicious," Rohan added, appearing from nowhere. "Very suspicious bride behavior."
Isha shoved the glass into Ruhika's hand before anyone could ask more questions. "One sip. That's it."
Ruhika stared at the drink, then at Shivansh. "You first," she said, narrowing her eyes.
He blinked. "Why me?"
Aarav gasped dramatically and mock threatened them saying, "If Mom....
He handed the glass back to her."See?" he said quietly. "Survivable."
She hesitated — then took a cautious sip.Her eyes widened just slightly."That's stronger than you said," she muttered at Isha.
She lowered her voice again, leaning closer to Shivansh. "If anyone asks, this is just Lemonade."
That quieted her for half a second.The music swelled louder again, pulling the cousins back toward the dance floor.
As the chaos moved away, Shivansh leaned back in his chair, still faintly amused.
"You're very dramatic for someone who took half a sip," he murmured.
He looked her over deliberately — champagne gold, dark mehendi, soft curls, cheeks flushed from dancing. "Your image is fine," he said quietly.
She rolled her eyes. "Stop."
The DJ slowed the tempo without warning. The bhangra circle dissolved into whistles and exaggerated "ooooo" sounds.
"Bride and groom!" someone yelled.
The chant caught immediately. "Bride! Groom! Bride! Groom!"
Ruhika looked at him.
He didn't roll his eyes this time. He simply stood and extended his hand.
"Shall we?" he asked, like they were at a formal dinner instead of in the middle of a Punjabi sangeet riot.
The center of the lawn cleared slowly, dramatically, cousins retreating but very much watching.The music shifted into a soft romantic track — steady, not overly sentimental.
He placed one hand at her waist, careful, measured.
She rested her hand on his shoulder aware of the structure of him beneath her palm — the weight, the steadiness.
The distance between them was proper. Decent. But not distant.
"With?"
Around them, cousins were pretending not to watch too closely. Parents smiled knowingly. Phones remained raised.
But inside that circle, it felt slightly quieter. "You're not uncomfortable?" she asked, almost curious.
"With this?" he replied.
"With everyone watching."
That did something small and warm in her chest.She swallowed lightly.
Her bangles brushed against his wrist as she came back.A soft sound.A small collision.
Their fingers intertwined for a second longer than necessary and the space between them had narrowed naturally.
Her hand slid slightly higher on his shoulder. His thumb rested lightly against the small of her back.
The music softened toward its last refrain. He leaned in just enough for his voice to reach her without carrying beyond them.
"Last dance as fiancés," he said quietly.
There was no declaration in it. No bold promise.
Just the desire to feel this moment fully before tomorrow changed its name.
Then applause rose around them, breaking the moment open.They stepped apart slowly — but the warmth stayed.
________
The DJ, clearly unwilling to let the night end softly, shouted into the mic, Everyone on the floor!"
The beat dropped hard.A full Punjabi bhangra remix exploded through the speakers.
Aarav ran into the center first, dragging Rohan with him."FLASH MOB!" he yelled like it had been rehearsed for weeks. It probably had.
Isha and Mehak rushed in from opposite sides, already mid-step. Within seconds, the younger clan fell into synchronized moves — shoulders popping, feet hitting the ground in perfect rhythm. The crowd roared.
Ruhika barely had time to laugh before Isha grabbed her wrist. "No escaping now!" She was pulled back into the circle.This time, there was no bride composure left to maintain.
No careful grace.
Her champagne skirt flared as she spun. Her bangles chimed with every raised hand. Mehendi flashed under fairy lights.
Across from her, Shivansh had been dragged in too. The controlled dancer from earlier had loosened.
It wasn't a performance anymore. It was noise. Joy. Sweat. Laughter.
At some point, someone started a train formation around the lawn. And that was the best part.
Ruhika found herself breathless, cheeks flushed, hair slightly undone.Shivansh appeared beside her again without planning it.
"You're not tired?" he asked over the music.
They danced among everyone now. Not center stage.Not spotlighted.
Hours past midnight the lawn looked lived in — dupattas misplaced, glasses half-finished, chairs slightly askew.
And as they walked back inside — cousins still arguing over who danced best — the night felt complete.
Morning would bring change starting with haldi.
____________
The next morning everyone woke up slower than usual. Voices were softer. Chai was being passed around like medicine.
Ruhika woke before anyone knocked.For a few seconds, she didn't move. Then she remembered. Today wasn't just another ceremony day.
Her phone lay on the bedside table. She reached for it almost instinctively.
Just then Mehak entered in her room, holding her phone and already half-smiling. "The haldi bowls look like someone mixed sunshine in a brass pot."
"That's comforting," Ruhika replied dryly.
_____
Downstairs, the courtyard was being transformed. A low seating area was set up with white cushions and fresh flowers. Brass thalis were arranged neatly with haldi paste, rose water, sandalwood, and rice grains.
While Down the hall, Shivansh was equally less composed than usual.
Aarav knocked on his door without waiting for permission. "You alive?"
Rohan appeared with sunglasses on indoors. "Why is the sun this bright?"
Shivansh stood by the window for a moment before getting ready, looking down at the courtyard where marigolds were being tied.
Haldi.
It wasn't the grand moment of the wedding.It wasn't the vows.
But it felt like the last stretch before everything shifted. It was about stepping into something that would no longer be reversible
He tried to picture the evening mandap.
The fire.
Her walking toward him.
And surprisingly, what he pictured most clearly wasn't the ceremony.
It was afterward.Standing beside her while relatives spoke to both of them together.
The haldi ceremony had been arranged in the courtyard under open daylight. Brass bowls filled with turmeric paste, rose petals floating in water, and small diyas placed along the edge.
A playful contrast balanced the ritual seriousness — one corner had been turned into a vibrant photo nook.
Yellow drapes, oversized floral frames, quirky sunglasses in neon pink and green, "Team Bride" and "Team Groom" placards, and even tiny hand-held cutouts shaped like haldi bowls waited for enthusiastic cousins
Both families gathered — simpler outfits, lighter energy.
A collective murmur went through the gathering.
"She looks like morning," one aunt whispered.
On the opposite side, Shivansh walked in wearing a deep turmeric yellow kurta. The fabric fell cleanly over his frame, structured but easy, embroidered lightly along the neckline and scattered with subtle motifs that caught the light only when he moved.
Not flashy. Not overly groom-like.
But unmistakably him.
The yellow he wore was bright — festive, appropriate, respectful of the ritual.But somehow, it still wasn't as warm as the sunlight that fell over her.
And when someone called his name, when laughter erupted nearby, when haldi was threatened in his direction —He didn't move.
They were seated on low stools facing slightly toward each other.
The priest explained the ritual briefly — blessings for prosperity, protection from negativity, glowing beginnings.
The first haldi was applied by their mothers. Her mother dipped her fingers into the bowl and gently applied turmeric to Ruhika's cheeks.
His mother did the same to him.The crowd softened.
One by one, the elders followed — soft touches, quiet prayers woven between smiles. Haldi wasn't just mischief. It was protection. Prosperity. A golden shield before marriage.
Then came the chaos. Cousins surged forward immediately."Careful!" someone shouted, which ensured no one was careful at all.
Haldi touched foreheads, arms, necks.
Ruhika gasped when cold paste brushed her jaw."This is revenge for last night!" Isha declared, smearing more than necessary.
Across from her, Aarav was attempting to "strategically decorate" Shivansh's face while Rohan laughed uncontrollably.
Then Isha clapped loudly. "Flower haldi!"
Large baskets of loose marigold jasmine and rose petals were brought forward. Someone upended one dramatically over Ruhika's head. Another showered Shivansh until it clung to his shoulders and hair.
The cousins abandoned paste entirely and began tossing petals at each other.Soon, both of them were seated side by side on the low platform — not touching, not quite — as petals rained down over them in bursts of gold and red.
After the ritual, laughter resumed — lighter now, almost relieved.
Cousins dragged them back into the center for photographs. Yellow-stained hands were held up dramatically. Someone insisted on a "serious pose." Someone else shouted, "One romantic one!"
But gradually, without announcement, the tone began to change. An aunt began gathering the haldi bowls. The dhol quieted. Someone reminded everyone of the evening's schedule. Voices lowered. Movements became purposeful.
As if the distance between now and the mandap were merely a few hours of patience.
Around them, relatives exchanged polite farewells. Laughter returned in small bursts
Shivansh had been speaking to her father. Then, as if guided by instinct rather than plan, he stepped closer. His kurta was stained now too — near the collar, along one sleeve. The perfect yellow slightly disrupted by deeper gold smudges.
He gave a small nod.The kind that felt almost like agreement.
Then he turned. He walked toward his family, sunlight catching against the turmeric on his jaw, making it glow faintly gold.
Not long enough for anyone to tease.Long enough for her to see it.
And then he was gone — past the marigold arch, beyond the courtyard, swallowed into the brightness of the afternoon.
The dhol resumed softly behind her.Someone called her name. The chooda ceremony would begin soon.Her wrists would be covered in red and ivory bangles.
Not across a courtyard.Not surrounded by playful cousins.
But across sacred fire.
She looked down at her hands.Still faintly golden from where she had touched him.
Still warm.
For weeks, this engagement had felt structured. Careful. Negotiated.But now, as his absence settled quietly beside her —It felt real.
And for the first time that day, the evening felt closer than it had before. Not overwhelming. Just inevitable.
_______________
The courtyard laughter of the haldi ceremony stayed outside the door — muffled now, distant. Inside the room, everything softened. Voices lowered. Movements slowed. Even the air felt heavier with meaning.
Her hair had been brushed back simply, parted neatly and tucked behind her ears. No heavy jewellery, no elaborate makeup — just the natural flush that haldi had left on her cheeks.
She was guided to a low cushion placed in the center of the room, its surface layered with marigold petals and soft fabric. The women gathered around her instinctively — forming a loose circle of color and familiarity.
Her maternal uncle sat across from her, the ceremonial tray placed carefully before him. On it lay the red and ivory chooda bangles — stacked neatly together, their polished surfaces catching the light.
Beside them sat a silver bowl filled with milk and rose petals.
Tradition.
For a moment, she sat still — the fabric brushing softly against her lashes, the scent of fresh detergent and rose water surrounding her.
The room quieted further.
Her mother moved closer beside her, placing a hand on Ruhika's shoulder. The gesture was simple, familiar — but today it carried a different weight.
"Don't cry," Isha whispered somewhere near her knee, crouched beside the cushion.
Her uncle reached forward.
Their weight was different from the jewellery she usually wore. Not delicate. Not ornamental.
Solid.
Around her, the room had fallen almost reverent.
Occasional sniffles.The rustle of silk dupattas.
Someone quietly adjusting the tray of flowers.
Her uncle continued placing the bangles slowly, pausing occasionally to whisper another blessing.
When the last one slid into place, her wrists felt fuller — encircled by color and tradition.
Married.
The thought came uninvited.
Not yet.
But almost.
Every ordinary moment that had once seemed permanent.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Even the older women — who had seen countless weddings — watched with softened expressions.
Another tradition.
They were not meant to be seen yet.
Not until she was dressed fully as a bride.
Her palms rested quietly beneath the fabric, the bangles hidden but present — their faint weight pressing gently against her skin
Isha cleared her throat dramatically.
"Well," she announced, voice deliberately brighter than the mood allowed, "before everyone starts crying again, we have another responsibility."
A few of the older women smiled knowingly.
"Kalire," Mehak said, appearing beside Isha with a velvet tray.
Two ornate golden kalire rested on the tray — long, cascading ornaments shaped like tiny umbrellas, their delicate chains ending in clusters of gold beads, tiny bells, and leaf-shaped charms that shimmered when they moved.
They were beautiful.
And impossibly bridal.
For the first time since the morning began, the reality of the evening pressed against her chest.
Her aunt stepped forward first, lifting one kalira gently.
"Hands," she said softly.
The second kalira followed on her other hand, equally intricate, equally delicate — their golden strands falling almost to her fingertips.
Ruhika lifted her wrists slightly.
Her mother stepped closer, adjusting one of the strands that had tangled against the bangles."These are blessings," she said quietly. "Every bead is a wish for happiness."
Isha, however, was already impatient."Alright," she clapped once. "Time for the important part."
Mehak grabbed Ruhika's elbow."Stand up."
Ruhika laughed weakly. "You're all too eager."
Ruhika carefully rose from the cushion, the kalire swaying dramatically as she moved. The golden strands brushed against her wrists and palms, the tiny bells chiming with each motion.
Superstition.
Tradition.
And an excellent excuse for chaos.
"Start with Isha," Mehak declared immediately.
Ruhika lifted her wrists carefully over Isha's head.The kalire swayed.The tiny leaves rustled.Everyone leaned forward.
Ruhika gave them a small shake.Nothing fell.
Next came two cousins who practically pushed each other forward.Ruhika shook her wrists again.
Still nothing.More laughter.More anticipation.
For a moment nothing happened—
The room exploded.
"OH!"
"You saw that!""It landed on you!"
Even Ruhika laughed now — properly this time.
The tension from earlier tears softened into something warmer.
Mehak groaned dramatically as everyone continued teasing her.
Meanwhile, Ruhika lowered her hands again, watching the kalire sway gently against her wrists.
Toward vows spoken in front of everyone who loved them.
Her mother watched her quietly from across the room.
Pride.Emotion.And a hint of disbelief.
Chapter Aesthetic ??