"Ehsaas"~ A Story Of Falling In Love

CHAPTER :- 26

The car glided into the Saxena residence as the sky turned a deep velvet blue, stars twinkling above like silent witnesses to this new beginning. Strings of fairy lights glowed warmly across the gate, interwoven with fragrant mogras and marigolds, the air scented with sandalwood and incense.

As the car stopped, neighbours had already begun to gather - some curious, some excited. An elderly aunt whispered, "Nayi dulhan aayi hai," while kids peeked from behind their mothers' pallus.

Inside the car, Diya sat in silence, her head resting slightly against the window. Her eyes were still moist from the vidaai - the kind that stung with the ache of parting yet shimmered with the promise of something new. She looked to her left - Agni was already watching her, a rare softness in his otherwise composed eyes.

He got out and, without a word, opened her door and held out his hand. She took it gently, the warmth of his palm grounding her trembling nerves. As she stepped out, her red bridal lehenga swept the floor, the tiny ghunghroos at its edge softly chiming with every step.

Waiting at the threshold was Komal ji, her face glowing with anticipation. Draped in a pastel pink silk saree, she held a decorated aarti thali, a diya flickering in the breeze.

Komal ji's eyes glistened as she whispered, "Aaj ghar poora ho gaya."

She performed the aarti slowly, eyes locked with Diya's, her heart full. Diya stood still, her throat constricted with emotion. After the aarti, Komal ji placed a soft kumkum tilak on her forehead and moved aside slightly, gesturing toward a silver thali filled with red alta placed at the entrance.

Komal ji spoke softly, "Beta, pehle apne pair alta mein dubona. Aaj se tumhare kadam is ghar ke liye shagun hain."

Diya bent slightly, removed her heels, and dipped her feet into the cool, crimson alta. The liquid clung to her skin like sacred ink. Agni stood beside her quietly, his eyes never leaving hers.

Then, with slow, reverent steps, Diya began to walk inside. Each step left behind a perfect crimson imprint on the pale marble floor - like memories being etched into the house itself. The murmurs of onlookers floated through the air:
"Bahu aayi hai."

But Komal ji, with a proud glint in her eye, turned to the crowd and said, her voice firm and filled with love,
"Bahu nahi, beti aayi hai."

Diya froze for a moment, her lips parting slightly at those words. Her eyes welled up again - but this time, from a completely different place. Komal ji walked up to her, cupped her face with both hands, and kissed her forehead.

Inside, the living room had been cleared for the ritual. Komal ji brought out another thaal and gently took Diya's hands. She dipped them carefully into the alta, then guided her toward a blank, freshly painted white wall beside the entrance.

"Yeh rasam hai humare ghar ki. Pehli baar jab ghar mein bahu kadam rakhti hai, uske haathon ke nishaan diwaar pe chhodte hain - nishani ke roop mein, duaon ke roop mein," Komal ji explained gently.

Diya, her heart fluttering, pressed her alta-stained palms against the wall. Two red handprints appeared - raw, imperfect, deeply symbolic.

Komal ji wiped her tears and softly said, "Yeh nishaan sirf rasam nahi hai, Diya... yeh is ghar mein tumhari jagah ka saboot hai."

Diya turned toward Agni, whose expression hadn't changed - but there was something deeper in his eyes now. As if he was silently saying, This is your home. Always will be.

Just then, an elderly neighbour came forward and offered doodh aur mishri as a blessing, and a little girl ran up to Diya and said shyly, "Bhabhi aap bohot sundar ho."