63

Ramadan Kareem! 🌙 ✨ sorry I missed it yesterday

-• inside Rawal Haveli •-

Taranya

I tie the knot of the white skirt. It's long, heavy, flowy and embroidered with gold all over. I'm sure my waist is going to give up before my feet tonight.

I still can't believe the bizarre turn of events. How did I go from where to eat to getting ready in my husband's maternal house while his family prepares a whole damn feast for me?

The thought unsettles me, but more than that, the prospect of having to eat anything they prepare is giving me a panic attack. How am I going to explain I can't eat anything they make unless it's soupy or has the texture of a slime? I can't make an excuse like I did back at the Rajawat Palace. I'm a guest here. Saying I've a particular diet that I follow will make me seem like a Prima donna. I don't want to upset the Rawals, not if there's a chance they'll accept Rudra as their own, which I feel like they already have. No, I cannot ruin this for him. Even if I have to swallow the discomfort and pretend that I'm enjoying the food, I'm going to eat it. The disorder could be damned. I'm not allowing his family to question his choices by thinking he married a young snob.

Picking up the dupatta from the chair, I unfold it and release a tired sigh. I hate clothes that are too flashy or heavy, or maybe I just hate the grandiose facade people put on back home. And everything about this outfit is just that. Usually, I've an entourage helping me get ready for special occasions, and while this cannot be counted as one because the women here seem to regularly follow this attire as their normal style, but if you put a jeans girl into a lehenga, she's going to fucking complaint.

I flip the dupatta, it looks same from both sides. Setting it down, I grab my phone and pull up Pinterest, searching how to style a dupatta as a veil. Hundreds of results flood my feed. I set the phone against the dressing table mirror and start my war with the dupatta. Harder as I try, I cannot do the pleats, they keep slipping through my fingers. I've a half mind to tear the dupatta in two and scream into it. But I resist.

My frustration hits the roof after the thirteenth attempt. I throw the shimmery fabric to the floor and plop down on the ottoman with a thump. It's so hot in here. They don't have air conditioning. Maybe because they have wide open windows and balconies. I've switched the fan to the highest speed, but it barely helped.

A knock on the door catches my attention. "Bhabhi sa, are you done?"

Getting up from the ottoman, I go to the door and open it to let Devyani inside. She sees the dupatta on the floor, the jwellery untouched on the dressing table and looks at me in amusement.

"I'm so done. How do you wear this everyday?" I ask in annoyance.

She chuckles. "After sometime, you get used to it." Picking up the dupatta, she sets it on the couch and takes my hand, stirring me in front of the dressing table. "Now you sit and let me do the work. I'll get you ready."

Relief spreads through me. "You've no idea how grateful I'm to have you here. I can't imagine going through all of this alone."

She smiles. "I understand. Us Rawals can be too much sometimes."

I sit patiently while she gets me ready. Unlike me, she focuses on my hair first. I had instantly jumped on the dupatta. Her hands do a quick, skilled work on my thick locks and she fishbraids them loosely, causing the young strands to frame my face. Then she picks up the maang tika, positions it in my centre hairline and hooks it with a pin. Next we move on to the earrings, nose rings, choker and rivières. For bangles, she drops to her knees in front of me, applies lotion on my hands and wrists and slowly slides over the bangles, adding two thick gold bracelets at the end to complete the sets. Then she proceeds to fasten the anklets around my ankles. I lift the hem of my skirt, tapping my feet on the floor, and a mellow, chiming sound floats in the air. She snatches the dupatta from the couch, which as it turns out is the last step of getting ready. "There you go," she murmurs, straightening the embroidered border of the dupatta and slicking it in my hand as I hold it on top of my head like a veil. "You look gorgeous, Bhabhi Sa,"

I give her a tentative smile. I look like a bride. "I'm only here for a day. Do I really have to wear this?"

She presses her lips together sheepishly. "We follow certain rules in this household. The women, especially the daughters-in-law of the household have to dress what is culturally significant." She pats my shoulders in encouragement.

"Why are you not holding a veil on your head?"

"Because I'm a maiden." She smiles.

"Oh, I didn't know that."

"You're a princess of Jaigarh, and the queen of Rajgarh, I'm surprised you don't know these things."

I shrug. "Nobody taught me."

I know I'm blaming everyone but me. Like Agastya once said, I've the means and the sources, I'm just not enthusiastic about my roots. I love them, and I appreciate my culture, but I don't have it in me to willingly learn about it. I'm lazy and ignorant, spare me.

She moves to sit on the couch while I turn around on the ottoman to face her. "How old are you, by the way?"

"I'm eighteen."

"Do- Do you go to college?"

To my surprise, she laughs. "I know I said we follow rules in this household, but men in this family don't opress women, Bhabhi sa. My older sister is an airhostess and I wish she was here because watching her strut around in jeans and crop tops would have saved you the confusion."

I nod, embarrassed out of my wits. "Sorry, I just-"

"It's okay," she smiles. "I understand. My friends used to think the same. We consider Rawal Haveli a world seperate from the rest. So we follow the old ways, customs and practices, and not because we're forced to, but because we like it, we prefer it that way. Though when we step out of here, we become one with the world." She explains.

"That's nice." I nod awkwardly.

"We've grown up in this environment so we don't find it weird. But I know people from outside do."

I shrug. "As long as you're happy."

"That's a given. We're happy."

I fail to pick up any new topic. I've so many questions, but I don't know which are appropriate and which might be offensive. I think I've already dug up a hole with the stupid, thoughtless questions I asked previously, I don't want to be forced to jump in there and lie down.

"How did you meet Bhai Sa?" Thankfully, she finds something lighter to restart with. "I heard in the news that you two were already in love. How did it work out? I mean with his two identities and all, I'm sure it must have been exhausting."

I fly back into the past through my memories. There were so many times Rudra hurt me, broke my heart, and lied to me with a straight face, but I can't find it in me to hate the old him anymore, maybe because I've learned to love the new him, and it couldn't have been possible without the past we share.

I nod thoughtfully. "It was. Your Bhai Sa is a storm. He came, uprooted my life, and took me with him on an unintended adventure I never consented to."

She chuckles softly.

"But he keeps me safe." I add.

"Tell me na, what kind of person is my Bhai Sa?" She leans in curiously, her eyes wide like a doe, awe and wonder sparkling youthfully in them.

"How old were you when you first saw him?"

"Physically? With my own eyes? I was 8 years old. I followed him around the Haveli while he was taking a tour with the help of a maid." She admits sounding coy. "He looked so princely when I first saw him. I think it was your brother who brought him here..." She trails unsurely, and I nod. "Yeah, that was the first and last time I saw him with my own eyes. He had the same eyes as Bua sa, in fact, he looked eerily similar to her. I've grown up seeing her portraits around the Haveli so for an eight year old to watch someone look exactly like the person in the painting was shocking."

A smile grows on my face hearing her talk fondly of Rudra.

"When he realised someone was following him, he stopped and found me behind the column. I was mortified." She blushes deep red. "The maid tried to send me away but I pretended to leave and then came back." The way she admits it cockily, like she believes she played the biggest trick in the history, makes me laugh a little. "He understood that I wasn't going away. He asked me my name and allowed me to tag along. So I hooked my finger into one of his belt loops and followed him around until it was time for him to leave."

"Aw, you were so cute." I gush.

She grins, but then it fades. "While he was getting into his car, I asked him when he'll return. He said never."

Loud honks blow off, startling both of us.

"Kunwar Sa ki gaadi hai! Kunwar Sa is here!" Someone announces outside.

Devyani gasps and springs up from the couch.

"Wha- What's wrong?" I look up at her in confusion.

"Bhai Sa," she meets my eyes in disbelief. "He's here."

I blink. "Oh yeah, I called him-"

"Let's go! He's finally here!" She grabs my hand and pulls me off the ottoman, dragging me out of the room like her feet have gained wings. I struggle behind with my dupatta and skirt, and have to pick the hem off the floor to follow her without fearing I'll trip or stumble.

She lets go of my hand to pick up her own skirt when we have to climb the staircase. Her eyes flit over her shoulders at me, and she meets my gaze, a grin so bright on her lips that it's contagious. The jingles of our anklet bells is resounding, and it echoes across the hallways. We stumble upon the courtyard together, giggles bursting forth our lips and she catches my hand again as we leap like fairies would do, our feet barely touching the ground.

The winds flow openly, and my veil slides down my head, but the dupatta stays pinned to my shoulders, and it glides through the air along with me.

She stops at the end of the courtyard, and leans over the parapet, pointing her finger at the black Range Rover that drives in through the main gates.

He's here.

I stop next to her, breathing through my mouth, and lean in as the car rolls in to a smooth stop. I've no idea what's so exciting about seeing a man I'm the wife of, whose face I've seen for the times I lost the count of, but right now, at this moment, it feels like I'm watching someone noble, someone of sublime presence, yet precise and real like the time, someone you should be lucky to have catch a glimpse of.

Because this man, he's celebrated here.

And he didn't have to become Shourya to make that happen.

My eyes shift to the front of the car, and I notice the women and the men of the house waiting at the doorstep patiently. Thakurani Sa stands in the centre, next to her husband, holding a thali in her hands. The curious, flickering flames splash an orange glow across her face, and it reflects in her eyes, revealing the sheen layer of tears in those firm, unyielding browns.

I look back at the car, frowning. Why isn't he coming out?

"What's wrong?" Devyani mutters under her breath, worry resonating in her tone. She suddenly stands straight, and I glance at her, before looking to where her gaze is. Finding Thakurani Sa's eyes on us, I fix my posture too, swallowing uneasily. She looks back at the car, a beat of long silence passes, but her eyes don't waver, as if she's holding someone's stare, and is not backing out anytime soon.

The door finally opens and Rudra steps out of the car, his suit clad body expanding to its full height. Then his head tilts in my direction, and those ebony eyes find my blue ones. I smile and wave timidly at him. His face softens, and his lips curve at the corners just the slightest, like he's forcing himself to reciprocate.

Looking forward, he buttons his blazer and walks up front, until he's standing in front of the old couple. Thakurani Sa descends the last stair, cups his face hesitantly, as if she's afraid he'll throw off her touch, but when he doesn't, she smiles tenderly, her eyes in awe of the man standing before her. Pulling her hand off, she dips her finger in the vermillion and puts the tilak on his forehead, welcoming him like she welcomed me.

Rudra bends to touch the couple's feet before standing straight and letting the family guide him inside. On his way, he looks over his shoulder at me and nods his head, instructing me to come down. I nod back in response, pulling off the parapet and patting Devyani's arm to go back downstairs. She agrees quietly.

"Sit down, it was a long drive from Rajgarh." I hear his grandmother say while Devyani and I descend the stairs.

"No, it's late, Taranya and I shall take our leave."

Devyani glances at me with a sad pout. I bite my lower lip, releasing a long sigh. Our anklets announce our presence before we can physically. All the eyes come to land on us, or preferably me, and I balk at the attention.

"What are you wearing?" His brows snap together in confusion. "Go and change. It'll be uncomfortable to sit in the car wearing that." He commands.

I almost roll my eyes. I expected a compliment. Not this- this snappy attitude. I know he's out of his element here. It must be awkward to face the people who are supposed to be your family but you've never spend enough time around them to consider them one. But this can be a start. I want it to be a start. There's no way I can bring him back here willingly. I cannot let go of this opportunity.

"I like it." I shrug.

"I'm sure you do, Esther. But you need to change. We cannot go home with you looking like this." He wags a finger up and down my frame, insinuating the loud colors and flashy jewelries.

"Stay the night." His grandfather says. "It's late. Have dinner, stay the night and you can leave tomorrow morning."

Rudra appears uncomfortable. He's not used to being ordered around from anyone else but the Chairman, who I'm sure he kills every time in his head for the same.

"It's late, yes, but if we leave now, I'm sure we'll make it back before two." He replies tersely. "Taranya," his eyes whip to me, and they narrow in sharp glares, "If you don't want to change, fine with me, but at least get your stuff. We've to leave." He states, impatience slipping through his hard tone.

"Ruk ja, (Stay)" Thakurani Sa steps closer and he stiffens. "Only for tonight." She adds softly. "Please?"

Rudra looks away, unwilling to give in.

"Padmini." Her husband addresses her sternly, disappointed that she was requesting Rudra to stay.

Ignoring him, the woman looks at me and smiles ruefully. "Ask him to stay, Bindani. I've waited over a decade to see my child in the flesh again."

"Rudra-"

"Get your things, Taranya. Now." He grits out, his jaw working tightly.

My hands curl into fists. I'm not putting up with his attitude. Why can't he see the woman is practically begging him to stay? They've given him a name, an identity, and they want to give him the respect and love that he deserves. For fucks sake, the entire Haveli came alive in his presence.

"You can go back alone." I say.

His head whips to me in disbelief.

"I'll return next morning." With that I turn around and head back upstairs.

"Taranya!" He calls out to me.

I don't stop. "Safe drive!"

Devyani follows me to my temporary room. "Bhai sa appeared furious." She comments as we enter through the double doors. She closes them after her and sits on the couch while I take a seat on the bed end. "He hates us." She sighs sadly.

"No, he doesn't."

She clicks her tongue, not believing me. "Didn't you see how tense he looked? He didn't want to stay another minute in the Haveli." She rubs her toe on the carpet.

"He's uncomfortable, that's all. He has grown up all alone, without a family, so he doesn't understand the concept of people living together, loving each other, respecting each other's space, and still being happy." I explain.

"He could have had all that if he stayed here."

"It's not that easy for him." I defend.

She sighs and her shoulders drop lower. Sluggishly, she flicks off the carpet corner with her toes, drowned in her own thoughts.

"He'll leave, won't he?" She meets my eyes again.

I shrug.

Honestly, I've no idea. I want to be confident and cocky and say he'll never leave me here alone, but after that whole Manohar fiasco, I'm not sure. The way he left so unceremoniously that night, I don't know what to expect from him in unexpected situations like these.

"He will." She nods. "Like he did ten years ago."

Then a knock reverabates and we both look at each other, a little surprised. I leap off the bed while she stands up from the couch, watching me move towards the doors and pull them open.

Rudra stands outside, pissed off.

I give him a toothy grin.

Snorting, he shoves his way inside, halting abruptly at the sight of Devyani.

I turn around and come to stand near the bed. "That's Devyani. She's your first cousin."

"Hi, Bhai Sa," she greets softly.

Rudra looks estranged. Like he's uprooted from his world and thrust in the middle of nowhere.

"Hi," he says half-heartedly. "Where's the bathroom?" His eyes flicker back to me.

I point to my right. He disappears inside and the door slams shut. Devyani and I squeal.

She hugs me tightly, thanking me over and over again.

"I'll go downstairs and check the progress on dinner. Then I'll return to call you guys." She tells me.

"Sure."

Will she be Tara if she's not stubborn?

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Don't forget to vote and comment. Makes my day.