Meri Jaan

Part 21

The Khan mansion glowed even brighter than before. If the dholki had been warm and homely, the mehndi was grand—every corner dripping in green and gold décor, fairy lights wrapped around trees in the garden, fresh genda phool hanging in strings, and the sweet smell of henna mixing with rose petals in the air.

The main courtyard was transformed into a stage of celebration: a colorful canopy of yellow, orange, and green fabric stretched overhead, while low seating with embroidered cushions circled the center. The dhol players had already started their beats, pulling everyone into festive energy.

Asad and Zoya arrived with Aliya, who ran straight to the cousins already practicing their dance sequence. Zoya, dressed in a regal emerald green outfit, hugged Ayesha warmly. “Mashallah, everything looks so beautiful. Mehndi ka maza to yahan hi hai.”

Ayesha smiled with pride. “Sab hamari Nandini ke liye.”

And as if on cue, Nandini appeared from upstairs, her dupatta held by Mukti and Aliya on each side like protective shields. She wore a traditional green lehenga with golden gota work, her long braid decorated with tiny jasmine flowers. Her cheeks glowed naturally, no extra effort needed.

Everyone gasped softly at the sight of the bride-to-be. Ibrahim whistled playfully, earning a smack from Faiza. “Control, dulhe ke bhai,” she teased.

Nandini shyly took a seat on the low takht in the center, where silver trays of henna cones and flower jewelry awaited her.

The mehndi rasam started traditionally. Zoya took the first first, applying a small circle of henna on bettle leaf that was in Nandini’s palm while whispering prayers. Asad followed with his blessings, touching her head affectionately. “Khuda tumhe hamesha apni hifazat mein rakhe.”

Then Ayesha leaned forward, tears brimming in her eyes as she tied a delicate flower bracelet around Nandini’s wrist. “Meri beti ban ke hamary ghar mein aa rahi ho, aur mujhe apni duaon pr bharosa hai.”

One by one, cousins, aunts, and friends came, applying tiny dots of mehndi on bettle leaf and leaving envelopes and gifts beside her. The atmosphere was light, filled with laughter and teasing.

When Mukti’s turn came, she grinned wide. “Main full design banaungi hath pr, patay pr nahi mehndi laga rahi kyunki bhai ka naam toh clearly likhna hai isme.”

Nandini instantly blushed crimson. “Mukti, please…”

But Mukti winked, whispering, “Relax. I’ll hide it so achhi tarah ke bhai ko raat bhar dhoondhna padega.”

Everyone laughed when they overheard.

As soon as the rituals settled, the music turned louder. Cousins and friends lined up for their dance performances, choreographed weeks in advance.

Aliya led the first group, twirling in her green sharara, performing a mashup of peppy Bollywood songs. Mukti joined mid-way, and together they created such energy that even elders clapped along to the beat.

Then came the cousins from Ibrahim’s side with a comical skit-dance, mimicking Manik’s angry expressions. The whole courtyard erupted in laughter as one cousin pretended to scold like Manik while the others “begged for mercy.”

Manik, watching from the side in a black kurta with embroidered green jacket, glared at first but then cracked a reluctant smile.

“Bhai ki acting spot on hai!” Mukti shouted, making him shake his head.

Finally, it was Nandini’s friends’ turn. They pulled her into the middle, refusing to take no for an answer. She tried to protest, but as the beat of “Mehndi Hai Rachnewali” began, she gave in. Her movements were soft, elegant, shy yet magnetic.