𝐑𝐔𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐀

Ch10 Not a Burglar #2

They both smiled. At that moment Dadi came in, so I placed the pallu of my saree over my head.

Dadi came to me, placed her hand on my head, and said, "Rivanya beta, truly the food was very good; especially the kheer - it was like nectar, my child."

I smiled, bowed, touched her feet to receive her blessing, and said, "Thank you, Dadi Maa."

Dadi Maa placed her hand gently on my head and blessed me,

“May you always stay suhagan, child. May every happiness of this world walk beside you.”

I stood up after taking her blessings, and she smiled warmly.

“Just come to Vardhanpur once, dear. Then I’ll welcome you with all the grandeur this palace deserves.”

I lowered my gaze shyly, when Rudraksh descended the stairs.

“Go, child,” Dadi Maa said, “serve your husband dinner. We shall take our leave. Come, Dev and Raaj, let your Bhaisa and Bhabhisa spend some time alone.”

Devaditya grinned mischievously.

“No, Dadi sa, I want to see Bhaisa’s reaction when he eats Bhabhisa’s cooking for the first time!”

Before he could finish, Dadi Maa pulled his ear and scolded,

“Have some shame, boy! Come, I’ll teach you a lesson.”

She dragged him away as he yelped in pain, and Vishwraaj followed them with a smile.

Watching that, I couldn’t help but chuckle softly and then placed the dishes on the table. Rudraksh sat down and said teasingly,

“I hope this food doesn’t make me sick, Biwiji?”

I glared at him.

“What do you mean by that?”

He smirked.

“I just meant… you do know how to cook, right? I don’t want to end up in the hospital after this meal.”

I snapped,

“That was supposed to be a joke?”

He nodded casually.

“It was.”

“It was a terrible one,” I muttered. “Just like you half-cooked, like an underdone potato.”

He burst out laughing, and for the first time, I saw him genuinely smile. His laughter felt warm… human. I couldn’t help but say,

“Why don’t you smile like this more often? You look so good when you do.”

His laughter faded, and his tone turned low.

“I don’t have any reason to smile, Rivanya.”

I looked at him quietly and asked,

“Then why today?”

He met my eyes again and said softly,

“Maybe because… for a few moments, I just found one.”

My heart skipped a beat for the first time. I quickly looked down and began serving his food silently. When everything was ready, I sat beside him.

“Please start eating,” I said.

He took the first bite and froze in surprise.

“You really made this?”

“Yes. Why? Does it taste bad?” I asked, half-nervous.

He shrugged.

“No… not bad. Just… okay.”

But I could see through his expression. He liked it but wouldn’t admit it ego, after all.

Without a word, I began serving dessert. As I placed the kheer bowl in front of him, he stopped me.

“No, Rivanya. I don’t eat kheer.”

I looked at him quietly.

“Dadi Maa told me that once, kheer used to be your favorite… but...”

“Enough,” he cut me off sharply. “I don’t eat it anymore. End of discussion.”

His face had turned cold again. My chest tightened. I quietly stood up and went to the kitchen, holding back tears.

I remembered what Dadi Maa had told me today's morning that after his mother passed away, Rudraksh never touched kheer again, though it was once his favorite dish.

After a few moments, I walked back and said softly,

“Can I say something?”

He looked up from his plate and said,

“As long as it’s not about kheer.”

I took a deep breath.

“What do you think your mother would feel, watching from above, seeing that her son never eats his favorite dessert just because it reminds him of her?”

He stopped eating. His hands clenched into fists, jaw tightening.

Seeing his anger, I spoke gently but firmly,

“Don’t treat your mother’s memories as a burden, Live them as something sweet instead. You’ll feel her around you then always. But it’s your life, your choice. I won’t tell you what to do.”

Rudraksh slowly picked up a spoonful of kheer and, after a moment’s hesitation, tasted it.

That single action made my heart swell with an unexplainable happiness.

Yet, even in that happiness, I noticed something that caught me off guard his eyes.

For a fleeting second, a thin layer of moisture glistened there.

I knew immediately what it meant. He was thinking of his mother, feeling her absence, feeling the memory of the one who used to make this very dish for him.

But I also knew Rudraksh would never show that vulnerability in front of me.

He was too proud, too restrained. So without saying a word, I quietly stepped back into the kitchen, giving him the space to be alone with his memories.

Time Skip – The Next Morning

As Dadi Maa had instructed, I wrapped myself in the green saree she had chosen for me, draped the heavy jewelry around my neck and wrists, and stood before the mirror.

My hands trembled slightly as I filled the parting of my hair with sindoor.

The vivid red streak against my hairline made me pause.

For a moment, an old anxiety returned How will I ever explain this marriage to Nanu and Nani?

How do I tell them everything that has happened?

But there was no time to dwell. I straightened my saree, took a deep breath, and walked downstairs.

The entire atmosphere in the house already felt different.

Servants moved about quietly; trunks were being closed; the scent of travel preparations filled the hallways.

I had just learned that most of the family would be leaving soon Rudraksh’s father, his uncles and aunts would depart for Vardhanpur that very day.

Only Dadi Maa, Devaditya, and Viswraaj would stay back till the next night before they too left.

Dadi Maa was seated regally in the hall, her silver hair glowing under the morning light.

When her eyes fell upon me, a warm smile spread across her face.

She beckoned me closer with her hand. Covering my head with the pallu of my saree, I walked over, touched her feet, and felt her palm rest gently on my head.

“You know what’s special about tomorrow, Rivanya beta?” she asked softly, her eyes twinkling.

“I think it’s the full moon, Dadi Maa,” I said politely. “That’s all I know.”

Dadi Maa chuckled. “Yes, it’s a full moon but not just any full moon. Tomorrow is Sharad Purnima. On this night, married women keep a fast for the long life and well-being of their husbands. It’s a tradition of our family, passed on for generations. Will you keep the fast for Rudraksh, beta?”

Before I could even open my mouth to reply, a familiar deep voice cut through the air from behind.

“There’s no need for anyone to beg for my life,” Rudraksh said coldly as he entered the hall, his footsteps echoing against the marble. “And what is this ridiculous belief that someone’s lifespan increases because another goes hungry? Isn’t that absurd, Didi Maa?”

His words fell heavy, but Dadi Maa’s face hardened. “Rudraksh, that’s enough,” she snapped. “This is our custom, our parampara, handed down for centuries. If you can’t respect it, at least don’t insult it.”

Rudraksh’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring, but he stayed silent under her sharp tone. The tension in the hall thickened.

I lowered my eyes, then spoke quietly but firmly, “Please don’t worry, Dadi Maa. I will keep the fast for him.”

Dadi Maa’s face softened again, relief and joy shining in her eyes. But from the corner of my eye, I caught Rudraksh’s expression his brows drawn together, his lips pressed into a line. Anger, frustration, and something deeper all mixed together on his face.

Dadi Maa smiled again, her voice lowering into an almost secretive tone.

“And you know something else, Rivanya? They say that on this night, under the first moonlight of Sharad Purnima, if two people hold hands and that first moonbeam touches them both, their bond becomes eternal for this lifetime, and for every lifetime after.”

Her words hung in the air like a quiet blessing. Rudraksh’s hands clenched by his sides. Without saying a word, he turned and strode up the stairs, disappearing into his room.

Dadi Maa looked at me knowingly. “Go, beta,” she said gently. “Talk to him. If you don’t calm him now, his anger will boil over.”

I nodded, gave her a small smile, and walked up to our room. Inside, Rudraksh was standing beside the bed, his face set in a stormy expression. As soon as he saw me enter, his words came out sharp, like arrows.

“You don’t need to starve yourself for me. All of this these fasts, these rituals it’s nonsense,” he said, his voice low but heavy. “I’ve been trying to explain it to Dadi Maa for years, and she never understands…”

His anger was real, but so was his pain. I could feel the clash between tradition and his wounded heart in every word.

I took a deep breath and said, “May I say something?”

Rudraksh, still angry, snapped, “Say it.”

I began, “For a married woman, the symbols of her marriage mean more than anything not because she thinks herself lesser than her husband, but so that the mark of her marriage, the sindoor in her parting, stays intact. These fasts and rituals may be meaningless to you,

but they are not meaningless for everyone. A wife performs a fast or a puja before God with the hope that He will remove every trouble from her husband’s life, that every danger will pass him by. With that faith, every woman keeps such fasts for her husband.

Even if our marriage is only in name and you do not want me to observe this fast for you, please don’t disrespect it in front of Dadi Maa or any woman here. It is their belief, their devotion. And whether you like it or not, I will keep this fast because Dadi Maa wants me to.”

Rudraksh, still furious, said, “If it’s real for you, fine. But I will never be part of this nonsense. If you want to starve yourself for me, go ahead I don’t care.”

He stormed away in anger, and tears sprang to my eyes.

Even if you don’t accept this marriage, I told myself, I will keep this fast for you.

Time skip.