MOHABBAT-E-DIWAANGI ( Book 1)

40. The Queen's Arrival

Authors pov

The Rajawats had celebrated every ritual, every tradition, immersing themselves in the grandeur of the wedding as only they could. Their palace had witnessed days of festivity, adorned with shimmering lights and echoing with the sounds of joyous laughter. And now, the moment everyone had been waiting for had finally arrived—the pheras.

The mandap stood in all its splendor, draped in marigolds and red silks, glowing under the golden light of diyas. The sacred fire crackled in its heart, its flames dancing as if eager to witness the union. The entire Rajawat family had gathered, their hearts brimming with anticipation, as they awaited the moment their son would take his vows and bring his bride home.

Revti Rajawat, the mother of the groom, stood near the mandap, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and emotions only a mother could understand. She was a vision of grace in her deep green Rajputi poshak, adorned with every piece of jewelry befitting her stature—each bangle and necklace carrying the weight of traditions passed down for generations. Her heart swelled with a sense of completeness, for today was not just her son’s wedding; it was the day she welcomed a daughter into their home, a girl who would be a part of their legacy, not just as a daughter-in-law but as her own child.

Beside her, Ansh Rajawat, the groom’s father, stood with his hands clasped behind him, his sharp gaze scanning every detail of the intimate yet grand ceremony. A man of discipline and dignity, he had ensured that every tradition was followed with precision. Yet, beneath his composed exterior, a father’s emotions simmered—pride, nostalgia, and an unspoken prayer for his son's happiness. His son, the boy he had once carried on his shoulders, was now a man stepping into a new phase of life.

He turned slightly towards Revti, his partner in life and now in this celebration, sharing a silent understanding. Without words, they had managed everything together—the rituals, the preparations, the endless arrangements. Every so often, he would lean in to confirm a detail, a rare softness appearing in his otherwise sharp demeanor. They were not just overseeing a wedding tonight; they were parents witnessing the beginning of their son’s new journey.

The air was thick with anticipation, the fragrance of fresh roses mingling with the earthy scent of burning ghee in the havan. It was more than a wedding; it was a promise of forever, witnessed by the very walls of the Rajawat palace, sealed in the sacred vows that were about to be taken.

The Rajawat mansion was drenched in regal grandeur, but amidst all the rich traditions and emotional moments, there was one sight that stole hearts—the boys' gang.

Dressed in coordinated kurta sets, each one had chosen a different shade, symbolizing their unbreakable bond, their brotherhood shining as brightly as the chandeliers overhead. The elegance of their attire was undeniable, but let’s be honest—it wasn’t just the clothes, it was them. God knows how breathtaking—oh, sorry, sorry—how insanely handsome they looked today! Ummmaaaah! My Rajawat babies, love you all!

And then, the moment of the evening arrived. The only and only AADISH RAJAWAT—our groom of the day—finally made his entrance! The aura, the confidence, the royalty—uff, what a sight! Because let’s be real, weddings will keep happening in the Rajawat mansion, right? Heeeheee…

Maine kuch nahi kaha! (I didn’t say anything!)

Aadish Rajawat—the groom of the day—stood as a vision of power, grace, and legacy.

He was adorned in a magnificent angarkha (a Rajput-style sherwani) in pure gold, embroidered with intricate patterns in brocade silk. The fabric shimmered under the light, exuding an aura of timeless royalty. Paired with a churidar pajama, tightly fitted at the ankles, the ensemble enhanced his regal stance, a reflection of the warriors that had come before him.