The story of two poles, who don't know each other at all. Meet because of the family but love each other on their own will. Srida Sharma and Anshuman Bansal was a two opposite pole but get attracted by each other but after soo many hard work. Soo, l...
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Looking in front of me, I saw a man standing wearing an ivory sherwani. The kurta was adorned with Rajasthani detailing in golden thread. His head was held high like that of a king. My gaze shifted from the mirror to see Akshu Di standing with a shawl and a royal brooch, which is an honor for every crowned prince. I was about to bow to make it easier for her to put the royal shawl around my neck, but she stopped me.
She smiled, saying, "A king does not bow to anyone other than his queen." Her words were powerful, making everything surrounding us feel like a kingdom itself. Despite being away from her, her mere mention brought me back to her—her face, her smile, her cheeks turning pink. She was fragile as a glass doll yet fierce and powerful like the queen of a kingdom—my kingdom, my queen.
She didn't need a tag to prove herself. I liked every bit of her, even if she was the one in doubt. I would be beside her to hold her hand and walk forward. Today was a big day for us—it was our engagement day, the day when we would have a tag around us and a ring on our fingers to signify to whom we belonged. I was hers.
I saw di bring a stool, but I shook my head. "A king will always bow to his queen, his family, and his kingdom. He is the servant of the people, not the boss, my lovely di," I said, taking her in a hug. Of course, she was elder to me by a year, the most mature one. That's what she always said.
She wrapped the shawl around me as I bent a little. She placed it on my right shoulder and draped it from behind, making the end fall on my left hand, keeping it on my forearms. Then she made me wear the brooch on the left side of the sherwani near my heart.
She moved to the vanity table to pick up the jewelry box that was kept by maa. She picked out the white pearl 6-layer neckpiece attached with a pendant with a red ruby hanging from it. It was brought by Choti maa and Chote papa from Udaipur—an ancestral jewelry piece my Dadi saved for every member of the family. After that, she made me wear a ring on my right hand, on my index finger, which signifies family heritage, authority, and leadership.
After she made me wear a turban with the royal brooch of the sun on it, it was necessary for the king or prince to perform the rituals of tying themselves with other souls with a crown. It made a silent vow to be the king of the women, to treat them as princesses, and to respect them as queens. She didn't let me bow, and neither did I, as it was a disrespect to the crown itself to bow. The head may bow, but the crown never would.
I looked at myself in the mirror's reflection and saw a powerful man standing there. Di took the kohl from near the corners of her eyes to apply it behind my ears to keep away evil. "Let's go make her your fiancée," she said teasingly, and it didn't take me long to understand who she was talking about. Of course, this was the moment I had been waiting for since the moment I saw her—to make her mine.
My feelings for her had grown stronger as the days passed. It had grown from liking her to loving her. I discovered this feeling the last time we met—a chaotic day of shopping, shooting, the beach, and her broken words, indicating she was strong on the outside but with a broken soul. I was ready to pick up every torn part of her with myself and keep it safe in my protective and pure embrace.
