Ch7Ties of Fate The Wedding
Hey there, amazing readers! Your comments, votes, and love mean the world to me. They keep me inspired and motivated to bring you new chapters even faster! So don't hold back-share your thoughts, hit that vote button, and let's make this journey unforgettable together!"
When I first learned that the bride had run away, my initial reaction was a laugh-ridiculous, almost mocking.
But I didn't actually laugh. Then it hit me: all these lunatics were trying to force me into a marriage with some other girl.
The first thing I thought was that I didn't even want to get married at all.
So, honestly, it didn't matter who the bride was-I could divorce her in a few months.
With that thought, I agreed to marry the other girl: Rivanya Bedi, the elder daughter of Naresh Bedi.
The first time my eyes met hers, she was standing on the balcony, dressed as a bride. Even though her angelic figure was partly hidden, her presence struck me. Our eyes met, and she quickly lowered hers.
Her eyelashes... like delicate petals of a blooming flower, thick and dark, lined with kohl.
I had never seen eyes so deep, so captivating.
When she looked away, my heart-perhaps for the first time-beat faster at someone's gaze.
And the way she bolted inside the moment our eyes locked?
Stupid as it was, for some inexplicable reason, I found it... cute.
A little later, I was discussing business with some associates when I saw her descending the stairs.
She was clad in red bridal attire, her head covered with a veil, flanked by her cousins.
The first time I saw her properly, even through the veil, her eyes immediately dropped as they met mine.
Not entirely, just a little, but enough to reveal the subtle beauty of her face. She really was... stunning.
Wait... what the hell am I thinking? I scolded myself.
When my entire family stood up to greet her, she looked slightly confused. If only she knew that everyone's attention, every gesture, was out of respect for her... because she was about to become my wife.
She looked so innocent so achingly innocent that it was hard to reconcile that image with what I'd heard about her family.
Who really knows what a person is like beneath a veil?
After all, it was her sister who had been willing to marry for money, and what kind of father is Naresh Bedi one who would push his own daughter into fire to save his so-called reputation?
Whatever their faults, this girl is now my wife, the queen of Vardhanpur even if only for a few months.
Through the thin ghoonghat I watched her eyes: deep, dark, coal-black pools that seemed to speak without sound.
Oddly, though I had barely seen her face, I could read fear in those eyes.
She had agreed out of duty because her father asked but behind that obedient nod there were so many unanswered questions trembling like small, fragile things.
My choti dadi maa stepped forward and lifted her veil.
At my father's prompting, Rivanya's father introduced her.
"Beta, yeh Rudraksh ki choti dadi hai, tumhari dadi-shas."
On hearing that, Rivanya bowed and touched my grandmother's feet.
My grandmother laid her hand on Rivanya's head and blessed her.
Rivanya's cousins shepherded her to stand beside me.
She was so small barely reaching my chest and I noticed the way she twisted the corner of her lehenga's dupatta between her tiny fingers, as if that scrap of cloth were the only steady thing in the world.
Her fear leaked out in the smallest of gestures.
Then Pandit ji called us to the mandap. I walked up onto the platform; she followed, and as she climbed she snagged her foot in the hem of her dupatta and nearly fell. Reflex took over I reached forward, caught her hand, and stopped her from toppling.
Her hand was as soft as cotton. Mine are usually cold; hers felt warm. For a single, inexplicable instant, that warmth soothed something inside me. I couldn't name it, but the calm it gave me was real.
I helped her onto the mandap and stood her at my side.
The priest announced the varmala ritual.
The garlands arrived and, at his instruction, I draped the first varmala around Rivanya's neck.
She looked so small beneath the flowers; now it was her turn to place the garland on me.
She tried, but because of her height she couldn't reach her struggle was almost comical, and it made me want to smile.
Habit kept my face expressionless, though.
Rivanya's stepmother couldn't resist a taunt. "Rivanya toh har cheez mein Rudraksh se choti hai, usse kam hi hai. Rudraksh bhala iske samne kaise jhukega?" she sneered.
Her words stung. I could see Rivanya shrink back behind her veil hurt flashed across her features.
To spare her embarrassment I dropped down on one knee before her.
Through the ghoonghat she looked up at me in surprise and, for a moment, smiled faintly.
Just then another guest jeered, "Dekh lo Rudraksh, ab jhuk gaye toh zindagi bhar biwi ke kadmo mein rehna padega..."
I answered quietly, with no drama: "Ab jo bhi ho, yeh meri hi patni hai mere ghar ki Lakshmi. Aur apne ghar ki Lakshmi ke pairo mein gir ke rehne mein mujhe kesi sharam ya kesi problem?"
Those words hung in the hall. My family looked surprised; they had never seen this side of me. Yes, I do not accept this marriage from the heart, but as her husband Rivanya's honor is tied to my name. I will not allow my name to drag hers into disgrace. That is why I did what I did.
Inside her veil she smiled, and two tears slipped down onto my palm. Her smile was like a spring bloom delicate and bright; like moonlight on a quiet night; like the cool breeze that soothes in autumn; like a small raindrop that brings life to a parched field.
She stepped forward and placed the garland over my neck properly. The priest then asked us to sit together before the sacred fire. We sat side by side, and the wedding rituals began.
The sacred fire crackled between us, its flames licking the air as the priest continued the rites. After a moment he intoned clearly, "Kanya ke mata-pita, kanya daan ke liye aage aayiye..."
Rivanya's father and her stepmother stepped forward as called. It was then I heard Rivanya's voice for the first time-clear, slightly trembling, but steady.
"I have something to say," she announced.
All eyes turned toward her. Even I shifted, attentive.
Her father asked gently, "What is it, beta? Tell us."
Rivanya spoke softly, with a resolve that made the room fall still. "Papa, my kanya daan-only you will give me away. No one else."
Her stepmother slid back a pace, flushed with embarrassment. The message was understood without further words. Rivanya's declaration was not just tradition; it was a public claim of loyalty and protection.
Her father stepped forward, emotion in his face.
With solemn movements he performed the ritual, took his daughter's hand, and placed it firmly into mine.
The touch was light, but the meaning felt enormous - a father entrusting his child to a man she had not chosen, a daughter offering herself to preserve her family's honor.
After the kanya daan was complete, the priest called for the pheras. My younger aunt stepped forward, carefully holding my sherwani and Rivanya's dupatta together, tying them securely so that we could take the vows properly.
Standing side by side, we began the pheras. With each step around the sacred fire, the priest explained the meaning of every round, the significance of each vow, weaving together the promises we were about to make-promises of love, respect, protection, and a life bound by duty and destiny.
Pehla Phera - Poshan aur Samriddhi
"Pehla phera, hum lete hain, jeevan mein bhojan ki poorn vyavastha ka vachan.
Hum ek-doosre ke liye hamesha sukh aur samriddhi layenge."
(First round: We pray for nourishment and prosperity. We promise to always provide for each other and lead a happy, prosperous life.)
Dusra Phera - Bal aur Swasthya
"Dusre phere mein, hum prarthana karte hain taakat aur swasthya ki,
har paristhiti mein ek-doosre ka sahara banenge."
(Second round: We pray for strength and good health. We promise to support each other in all circumstances.)
Teesra Phera - Dhan aur Samriddhi
"Teesre phere mein, hum jeevan mein uchit dhan aur naitik samriddhi ki kamna karte hain.
(Third round: We pray for wealth and prosperity. We will earn and grow together honestly and with integrity.)
Chautha Phera - Prem aur Sammaan
"Chauthe phere mein, hum prem, vishwas aur sammaan ki kasam khate hain.
Hum ek-doosre aur ek-doosre ke parivaar
(Fourth round: We vow to love and respect each other and each other's family unconditionally.)
Paanchwa Phera - Santaan aur Jimmedari
"Paanchve phere mein, hum acche, swasth aur sanskaari bachchon ki kamna karte hain.
(Fifth round: We pray for noble, healthy children and promise to raise them with responsibility and love.)
Chhatha Phera - Jeevan Saathi aur Vishwas
"Chhathve phere mein, hum apni saari zindagi ek-doosre ke saath bitane ka vachan karte hain.
Har sukh-dukh mein, har safalta aur asafalta mein hum saath rahenge."
(Sixth round: We vow lifelong companionship, standing by each other in happiness, sorrow, success, and failure.)
Saatwa Phera - Eternal Bond aur Dosti
"Saatve phere mein, hum apne prem aur mitrata ko amar banane ka vachan karte hain.
Hum sirf pati-patni nahi, balki aatma-sakhi bhi banenge."
Seventh round: We promise eternal love and friendship. We are not just husband and wife but soulmates and best friends forever.
After all the pheras were completed, the priest instructed us to sit. We both sat down solemnly in front of the sacred hawan fire.
Then, the priest said, "Fill the bride's maang with sindoor."
One of Rivanya's cousins stepped forward and gently lifted her ghunghat, revealing her face.
And for the first time, I truly saw her.
I couldn't take my eyes off her her delicate features, the soft curve of her lips, the warmth in her eyes...