Threads of Tradition: Tales Of Indian Arranged Marriages

5.

My meeting with the architectural firm that Devansh had arranged for me was a significant turning point. As the day approached, I was a bundle of nerves—torn between excitement and anxiety. Moving to a new country meant starting over, and with London’s towering skyscrapers and historic buildings, the stakes felt higher than ever.

On the morning of the meeting, Devansh noticed me fidgeting with my outfit. His reassuring presence was a balm for my anxious energy.

“You look perfect,” he said, adjusting his tie. “You’ll do great.”

I managed a smile, though the nervous flutter in my chest persisted. “I just want to make a good impression. It’s been so long since I’ve had to introduce myself to new people in this context.”

“You’ve got this,” he said, his confidence in me steadying my nerves.

As we arrived at the firm’s office in London’s financial district, I felt the city’s pulse quicken. The buildings seemed to loom larger, glass and steel reaching for the sky, a stark contrast to Jodhpur’s sandstone and marble. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders before stepping inside.

The meeting went better than I had hoped. The team was warm and welcoming, genuinely interested in my experience back in India. I found myself relaxing as I discussed my past projects, especially the ones where I’d blended traditional Rajasthani architecture with modern design. To my surprise, Richard, the firm’s lead architect, was fascinated by my unique perspective.

“Your work with traditional Indian elements is incredible,” he said, flipping through my portfolio. “We’re always looking for innovative ways to incorporate cultural diversity into our projects. There’s so much potential for collaboration.”

The conversation flowed smoothly, and by the end of the meeting, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. Richard offered me a freelance project for a client interested in incorporating Indian design into a new development. It wasn’t a full-time position, but it was a start—a way to begin establishing myself in London’s architectural scene.

When I returned home that evening, Devansh was already there, waiting for me with a look of anticipation.

“Well?” he asked, his eyes bright with curiosity. “How did it go?”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “It went really well. They liked my work and offered me a freelance project.”

Devansh grinned, pulling me into a tight hug. “That’s amazing, Paridhi! I knew you’d impress them.”

The sense of accomplishment I felt was overwhelming. For the first time since moving to London, I felt like I was taking control of my life again, finding a way to merge my past with my present.

However, despite this small victory, adjusting to life in London remained challenging. The cultural differences were still stark, and there were times when I felt like I didn’t belong. I missed the familiarity of Jodhpur—the sounds of the local markets, the festivals, and the daily rituals that had once seemed mundane but now felt like home.

One weekend, as Devansh and I sat on the couch, I voiced my concerns.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” I said softly, my gaze distant. “About how different things are here.”

Devansh looked up from his phone, sensing the seriousness in my tone. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just… everything here is so fast. People don’t seem to have time for each other, for family. Back home, we would gather for meals, celebrate festivals together, even just talk about nothing. Here, it’s like everyone is in their own bubble.”

Devansh nodded thoughtfully. “I get what you’re saying. It’s a different pace of life, for sure. But that doesn’t mean we can’t create our own space, our own traditions. Just because we’re in London doesn’t mean we have to leave everything from home behind.”

I smiled at his words. He had a way of grounding me, reminding me that we were in this together. “You’re right. I guess I’m still figuring out how to make this place feel like home.”

Devansh wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “We’ll figure it out, one step at a time. How about we start by bringing a little bit of home here? Diwali is coming up, and I know you love the festival. Let’s celebrate it the way we would back in Jodhpur—decorate the house, make sweets, invite a few friends over.”

My eyes lit up at the idea. Diwali had always been my favorite festival, a time when Jodhpur would be illuminated with lamps, and the air would be filled with the scent of sweets and the sound of laughter. The thought of celebrating it in London brought me a sense of comfort.

“That sounds perfect,” I said, already imagining the lights and decorations. “We can invite some of your friends, and I can make all the traditional sweets.”

As the weeks passed and Diwali approached, I threw myself into the preparations. I ordered diyas online, carefully selecting the most beautiful ones I could find. I spent hours in the kitchen, preparing laddoos, barfis, and other traditional sweets, filling the apartment with the warm, sweet scents of home.

On the evening of Diwali, our apartment was transformed. The soft glow of the diyas lit up every corner, casting a warm, golden light that made the space feel cozy and inviting. I wore a bright red saree, my favorite from back home, and Devansh, in a crisp kurta, couldn’t stop smiling as he watched me make sure everything was perfect.

We had invited a small group of friends—some of Devansh’s colleagues and a few acquaintances I’d met at networking events. Though it was a far cry from the bustling celebrations I was used to in Jodhpur, there was something intimate and special about this small gathering.

As the evening progressed, I found myself relaxing, laughing with our guests, and sharing stories about Diwali in Rajasthan. Devansh stayed by my side, his presence a steady source of comfort and support.

At one point, as we stood together on the balcony, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance, I turned to Devansh with a soft smile. “Thank you for this,” I said, my voice filled with gratitude. “For making me feel at home.”

Devansh looked at me with a tenderness that made my heart swell. “You are home, Paridhi. Wherever we are, as long as we’re together, that’s home.”

In that moment, I realized that London didn’t have to feel so foreign after all. It wasn’t about the place but about the people who made it feel like home. And with Devansh by my side, I knew I was well on my way to creating a life in this new city—a life that blended the best of both worlds, where tradition and modernity could coexist, just as Devansh and I were learning to do.

As the lights of Diwali flickered in the background, I felt a deep sense of peace settle over me. I had come to London as a stranger, but now, bit by bit, I was starting to carve out a space for myself. It wouldn’t always be easy, and there would still be moments of doubt, but I was beginning to see that this new beginning held its own kind of beauty.

And as the night continued, I knew that Devansh and I were building something special—a partnership that was growing stronger with each passing day, across borders, cultures, and hearts.