Chapter Jodhpur diaries
Jodhpur diaries
SITARA
By the time we reach Jodhpur, my nerves have settled into something softer—still fluttery, still alert, but no longer sharp enough to hurt.
The royal palace rises out of the city like it’s always been there, like Jodhpur grew around it instead of the other way around.
Warm sandstone glowing in the late afternoon sun, carved jharokhas catching light and shadow, flags stirring lazily in the breeze.
I’ve been here before, once with Bhai-sa.
He had a meeting, and I wanted to explore.
Since I didn’t really get out of my house much, Bhai-sa agreed.
Dhruv steps out of the car first, as always, hand already extended before I even think about asking. I place my palm in his, and the familiar steadiness of him grounds me instantly. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t pull—just holds, like this is the most natural thing in the world.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, eyes scanning my face with that gentle attentiveness I’m still getting used to.
I nod. “Yeah. Just… it’s been a while since I’ve seen them.” I am so excited to see Bhai-sa and Bhabhi-sa and I really, really hope they brought Aadhya. I missed that tiny hurricane more than anyone, and she’s only been in my life for four years.
Dhruv’s thumb brushes over my knuckles bringing me back to reality. “They’re right inside.”
I can’t contain the excitement. I will get to see my family. Well. at least some of them. I cannot wait. I almost skip inside, and Dhruv just chuckles beside me.
Inside the palace courtyard, the air hums with movement. Officials, staff, security—everything perfectly coordinated, perfectly controlled. It should feel overwhelming.
It doesn’t. “Buiii buiiii!”
I barely have time to turn before something small and fast barrels straight into my legs.
“Oof—!” I laugh as I instinctively bend down, arms already opening.
Aadhya.
All curls and energy and chubby cheeks, she crashes into me with the full force of her three-year-old enthusiasm, arms wrapping around my knees like she’s afraid I might disappear if she lets go.
“There you are,” I breathe, dropping fully to the ground because pretending I can stay upright through this is pointless. “I missed you so much.”
She looks up at me with dramatic seriousness. “You went very far.”
“I did,” I admit solemnly. “I’m sorry about that.”
She considers this, then nods, clearly deciding to forgive me. “Okay. Don’t do again.” I almost cry at her words. Behind her, I hear Meher bhabhi-sa laugh softly, and something warm spreads through my chest before I even look up.
“There she is,” Bhabhi-sa says, stepping closer, her smile gentle and knowing. “I was wondering how long it would take Aadhya to tackle you.”
I stand, brushing my hands over my outfit for half a second before she pulls me into a hug.
“How are you?” she asks into my hair.
I swallow. “Better now.”
She pulls back, eyes scanning my face the way she always does—like she’s checking not just how I look, but how I feel. “Good. You look happy.”
I glance instinctively toward Dhruv, who’s already crouched in front of Aadhya, completely abandoning all kingly dignity. The last time they met was when Aadhya only oohed and aahed, he couldn’t even lift her because he was afraid of hurting her and I had laughed so hard.
“What’s that?” he asks her seriously, pointing at her tiny bangles.
“These?” Aadhya lifts her wrist proudly. “Maa-sa says I’m very fancy.”
Dhruv nods gravely. “I agree.” She beams.
Then she squints at him. “You’re my Dhruv fufa-sa, right?”
He grins. “Last I checked.”
She leans closer, stage-whispering. “You’re very tall.”
I snort. Dhruv pretends to look offended. “Is that a complaint?”
She shakes her head vigorously. “Good for climbing.”
Before anyone can react, she grabs his sleeve and tries—valiantly and unsuccessfully—to pull herself up his arm.
Meher bhabhi-sa laughs. “Aadhya, sweetheart, don’t climb your fufa-sa.”
Dhruv, the traitor that he is, scoops her up effortlessly instead. “It’s fine. I’ve been warned about this job.”
Aadhya settles against his shoulder immediately, one tiny hand gripping his collar like she owns him.
Something in my chest shifts. I might be in love with this sight, at how Aadhya is grinning at Dhruv, and he beams back. He will make such a good father, the thought itself makes me emotional somehow.
Devraj bhai-sa steps closer then, his presence quiet but solid, eyes flicking between me and Dhruv with that familiar protective sharpness softened by relief.
“You okay?” he asks, voice low.
I nod, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah, Bhai-sa.”
He holds my gaze for a second longer, then nods once. Approval. Acceptance. Maybe even gratitude.
Vihaan bhai-sa smiles at me from beside him, squeezing my arm gently. “You look settled.”
I don’t argue. Because I am. As we walk toward the inner hall together, Aadhya still perched comfortably on Dhruv’s hip, she suddenly leans back to look at me upside-down.
“Bui,” she announces seriously, “Dhruv fufa-sa smells nice.”
I almost choke. I know, girl, but don’t say that outloud.
Bhabhi-sa raises an eyebrow. Dhruv smirks shamelessly, and Devraj bhai-sa clears his throat.
“Thank you?” Dhruv says, pulling her cheeks.
Aadhya nods. “Like chocolate. But grown-up.”
I cover my mouth, laughing despite myself. Dhruv glances at me then, eyes warm and amused, like he’s sharing a private joke only we’re in on.
And maybe that’s when it hits me. Standing here—in this palace, surrounded by my family, watching my husband let a three-year-old rule his entire existence without complaint—I don’t feel like I’m performing a role.
I don’t feel like I’m pretending.
I feel… included.
Wanted.
Home doesn’t always announce itself loudly.
Sometimes it looks like your niece clinging to your husband. Sometimes it sounds like shared laughter echoing through old halls. Sometimes it’s just the quiet certainty that you don’t have to brace yourself anymore.