Author's POV:
Two years later,
Praneeksha sat in the soft folds of her wedding saree, the gold zari glinting in the soft glow of the evening lamps. She was getting married to Aatish today, a union that would see them joined not just once but twice—first in the lush greenery of Karnataka, the land of her birth, and then in the grandeur of his ancestral palace in Rajasthan. The anticipation was a thrumming in her veins, a sweet symphony of love and tradition.
Her mother, Mrs. Bhat, moved around the room with a grace that belied the flurry of emotions she must be feeling. She applied the final touches of kajal to Praneeksha's eyes, her own eyes brimming with unshed tears. "You look so beautiful," she murmured, her voice thick with love and pride. Praneeksha felt the warmth of her mother's gaze and knew that despite the challenges they had faced, she had her full support.
The door to the room creaked open, and the priest's melodious voice floated in, calling for the bride. Aatish's excitement was palpable, a tangible force that seemed to charge the very air. He had arrived in Bengaluru earlier that morning, dressed in a traditional Kannada attire, a nod to Praneeksha's culture. His eyes searched the room, finding Praneeksha's reflection in the mirror, and his smile grew wider.
The whispers and glances had started almost immediately, the moment Aatish had arrived. Some of Praneeksha's relatives hadn't taken kindly to the revelation of his true identity. They had tried to plant seeds of doubt in her parents' minds, hinting at the challenges that lay ahead. But the Bhats had remained steadfast, their love for their daughter overshadowing the whispers of doubt and envy.
Praneeksha turned to face Aatish, her eyes taking in the traditional Kannada attire he had chosen for the wedding. The cream-colored silk dhoti and angavastra looked elegant on him, the golden border accentuating the warmth of his skin. He had even tied the sacred thread across his chest, a gesture that touched her heart. "You look incredible," she said, her voice filled with wonder and love.
Aatish's eyes crinkled with happiness. "And you, Praneeksha," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "you look like a goddess."
The wedding ceremony was a vibrant tapestry of Kannada traditions. The air was thick with the fragrance of sandalwood and incense, as the mantras chanted by the priest filled the small hall with an ancient, sacred energy. The vibrant hues of the garlands they exchanged mirrored the colors of their hearts—pure, unabashed love.
Aatish's parents had made the journey from Jaipur to Bengaluru to witness this union, their expressions a mix of respect and curiosity. They had never seen a wedding quite like this, the simplicity of the rituals a stark contrast to the opulence of Rajasthani royal weddings. Yet, they couldn't deny the warmth that emanated from the gathering of Praneeksha's family and friends, all coming together to celebrate the union of their children.
As the final prayers were offered and the knot was tied, Praneeksha and Aatish looked into each other's eyes, a silent promise passing between them. They had chosen love over duty, tradition over convention, and now they would face the challenges of their intertwined destinies together.The wedding party boarded the private jet that awaited them, a sleek symbol of the new chapter in their lives. The aircraft's cabin was adorned with bouquets of marigold and roses, the colors of joy and love, and the scent of sandalwood filled the air. The Bhats had never experienced such luxury, but they were not overwhelmed—they were too busy beaming with pride for their daughter and her groom.
As the jet took off, Praneeksha's heart raced. She looked out the window at the shrinking cityscape, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The journey to Jaipur was not just about another wedding ceremony—it was about bringing two worlds together, about showing Aatish's family that love had no boundaries.
