An arranged love story of two independent souls who hold their family traditions and culture close to their hearts. What happens when their worlds collide? When they meet, bringing with them their own dreams, ambitions, and past experiences, and ent...
Night fell sooner than expected, and I prepared for ghoomar once again. I chose a stunning royal blue attire, pairing it with pink bangles and a gold necklace set. Adding my katar, I felt beautiful with minimal makeup.
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Helping Kratu get ready, she wore a vibrant red poshak with intricate lapha work and styled her hair in a elegant choti, wrapped with gota. She looked breathtaking.
We descended to the chaubara, where everyone awaited the function. Pihu, adorable in her small poshak, ran to me with clumsy steps and hugged my legs. I lifted her in my arms, and Mummy performed the nazar ritual to protect us from evil eyes.
Outside, the DJ and lightings were ready. Bhuasa, Moomal Jeeja, and Kratu initiated the function with the Gajanan song. Relatives followed, performing ghoomar one by one.
I performed ghoomar on "Aye Ri Sakhi More Piya Ghar Aaye," and the energy was electric. Literally, every guest rushed onto the stage to do warni pherni, seeking to ward off evil eyes and bless me with love and prosperity.
Next, Mummy and I shared a heartfelt ghoomar performance on "Jala Sain." Our synchronized steps and beaming smiles created an unforgettable moment, etching memories in the hearts of our loved ones.
Awaaiting Kratu's performance, the moment arrived. She took the stage, and the music began with the Laadki song. When she dedicated it to me, I was overcome with tears. Papa hugged me, his eyes also welling up.
"Chalo chalo, ab itno emotional hoba ki zarurat koni," (Stop it there is no need to be so emotional) Bhuasa said, gently wiping away my tears to preserve my makeup.
Ghoomar resumed, and the ladies of my family gathered on stage, surrounding me. They danced to Baisa Ladka Ghana, gesturing towards me, leaving me overwhelmed. I joined them for a few steps before exiting the stage.
Dev stood apart, looking somber. "Dev, kai huyo?"(Dev, What happened ?) I asked.
"Kai nhi, Jeeja,"(Nothing jeeja) he replied, his eyes welling up. I whispered his name, and he hugged me, tears streaming down his face.
"Jeeja, mat jao na, yr,"(Jeeja please don't go) he sobbed.
"Mat kar na, yr, Dev," (Dev, please don't do this) I consoled, tears in my eyes.
Kratu hugged me from behind, burying her face in my shoulder. "Yrr tum dono pagal hogye ho kya? Kyu ro rhe ho itna?" (Have you guys gone mad, why are you crying so much) I asked, trying to calm them.
Bhuasa intervened, "Aree beta, Chaitu ko makeup kharab ho jaasi. Chaitu beta, mat ro, aur they dono kai kar Riya ho, tabiyat kharab ho jassi na."
( Children chaitu's makeup will be ruined. Chaitu don't cry child, and you both what are you doing you'll fall sick)
Bhuasa enveloped Kratu, Dev, and me in a warm hug, her eyes shining with joy. Then, she led us back to the dance stage, where our cousins and friends awaited.
As the DJ spun Bollywood and Rajasthani beats, our gang took the stage by storm. We danced with abandon, lost in the infectious energy. Laughter echoed, feet stomped, and spirits soared.
Ghoomar proved to be an epic celebration, transcending expectations. We danced relentlessly until 3 am, refusing to let the magical night end.
As the music faded, our grins remained. We exchanged warm hugs, sealing memories forever.
The next day, I woke up at 7 am, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. As I stepped out of my room, I was greeted by the enchanting voices of ladies singing traditional Rajasthani folk geets. The newlywed bhabhisa's (sister in law's)chatted and shared stories about their lives, their laughter and giggles filling the air.
I headed towards the kitchen, where Mummy was busy giving instructions to the cooks for breakfast. "Haan sa, aap log jaldi jaldi nashto banaa lyo aur sath main chai coffee bhi bana lijyo," (Prepare the breakfast quickly and make sure to prepare tea and coffee as well) she said, her voice warm and authoritative.
The cooks nodded in unison, "Haan, binni sa,"(Binni sa is an endearment used to call daughter in law's in rajasthan) and immersed themselves in their work.
I approached Mummy, requesting,"Mummy coffee bnaa dyo thodi si" (Mummy, may I have some coffee to wake myself up completely?) She handed me a steaming cup, and I took a refreshing sip. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled my senses, invigorating me for the day ahead.
I strolled into the garden, where Papa, Dadosa, and Pandit Ji were engaged in a discussion about the auspicious times for the day's events. I joined them, exchanging warm greetings with Pandit Ji, who reminded me to be ready on time.
Returning inside, I recalled Dadi Sa's wise words: Aaj pure din aaram kar aaj tharo din hai zyada pareshan mat hojye (Conserve your energy, beta. It's your special day.).
I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my heart. "It's my wedding day today; Hukum will arrive in the evening to make me his forever."
Later, Pandit Ji summoned me. Accompanied by Moomal Jeeja and Kratu, I joined Mummy Papa. Pandit Ji guided me to sit beside them and began chanting sacred mantras, initiating the wedding rituals.
Before setting up the mandap, the Thaam Rupayi function commenced. This poignant ritual brought me, my parents, and our loved ones together for a heartfelt Pooja.
Seven married ladies gently placed moong (green gram) on the sand, carefully prepared for the havan. This symbolic act invoked prosperity, fertility, and divine blessings. As I participated in the rituals, I managed to contain my emotions.
However, once I returned to my room, the weight of reality settled in. Tomorrow, I would leave my family's loving embrace and begin a new life with Hukum. Overwhelming emotions surged, and tears flowed freely. The thought of separation from my loved ones became unbearable.
The hum of Rajasthani Vivah geet drifted through the air, as ladies sang soulful melodies. Meanwhile, relatives busied themselves crafting the exquisite Jhilmil ki aarti. This intricate ceremony would welcome Hukum, when the baarat arrives at our doorstep.
As evening descended, anticipation filled the air. My mother would soon perform the sacred Jhilmil aarti, greeting Hukum at the gate. The aroma of incense and flowers wafted through our home, signaling the commencement of this joyous, yet bittersweet, union.
As I stood at this threshold, torn between joy and sorrow, I realized that every passing moment brought me closer to a new chapter in my life.
