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“Now, let’s go make it official, Mr. Shergill.”
I return his grin, and we head downstairs to where my destiny—my Meher—awaits.
I step down the hallway of the Walia House with Krish by my side towards the mandap that lies ahead. The priest is waiting patiently, and the guests from both families are brimming with excitement. My eyes look for Dad and find him engaged in an animated conversation with Bhaskar uncle, their faces beaming with joy.
As I draw closer, I see it all in his eyes—the pride, the love and the bittersweet realisation that his little boy is all grown up, ready to embark on a new journey. His eyes shimmer with unshed tears as I reach him. His strong hand grips my shoulder, and he gazes at me with love as he takes in my wedding attire.
He gently places the groom’s turban on my head, his voice choked with emotion as he murmurs, “My son... I have been looking forward to this day for a long time. Seeing you marry the woman you love fills me with pride and happiness. I am proud of you for following your heart.”
He places a gentle kiss on my forehead. I then touch his feet and take Dad’s blessings, followed by Bhaskar uncle’s before sitting for the rituals. Dad and Bhaskar uncle take their respective seats nearby, their gazes filled with pride and affection. Krish is busy with security matters around, but whenever our eyes meet, his friendly smile warms my heart.
My father, Bhaskar uncle and Krish—they are my family. And soon, Meher will also be an integral part of this circle. Where is she? I can’t wait to see her. My eyes drift towards the entrance, eagerly awaiting my bride’s grand arrival. As the rituals proceed, my attention constantly shifts to the entryway, wanting to catch her first glimpse.
I’ve heard that Pratap Walia himself will escort her from her room. Amid the anticipation, I see Aksh and Devika enter the venue. Devika smiles warmly when her eyes meet mine, but her attention is soon diverted as Aksh engages her in conversation with the other guests. Eventually, they approach the mandap, where the rituals are taking place.
Aksh and I share a glance that’s anything but friendly, our mutual distrust and the complicated history evident in that brief interaction. Devika reaches us and greets my father and Bhaskar uncle with respect, and they, too, bless her with the same warmth. Krish told me that Devika and Aksh have been excellent hosts in welcoming the Shergills and our friends and family here at the Walia House. My heart swells, witnessing the emotions and relationships converging on this momentous day.
Finally, the moment we’ve all been waiting for arrives—the grand entry of the bride. Meher walks down the pathway towards the mandap in her designer maroon wedding lehenga, her jewellery gleaming in broad daylight. A gorgeous maang tikka graces her forehead, and her ears are adorned with traditional kundan jhumkas that sways and jingles seductively with every step she takes. An exclusive kundan Maharani necklace completes her look, making her look like a Queen. Her makeup is flawless and elegant, just like the bride herself. She looks exquisite. She still has my mother’s ring on her finger, the one with which I sealed our togetherness. She looks ethereal, a vision of timeless elegance. Her radiance fills the place, and for a moment, everything else fades away. At this moment, she’s not just a bride; she’s every bit my Queen.
My heart races, unable to believe that the woman I’ve longed for is about to become mine. Whispers of awe ripple through the crowd as Meher walks across the pathway with measured steps along with her father. Our gazes lock and everything else around us blurs. It’s as if time itself slows down, allowing me to imprint this moment in my memory forever.
“Isn’t she the most gorgeous bride?” Simran’s voice interrupts my reverie, snapping me back to the present. I nod in affirmation, my gaze fixed on Meher.
“Yes, and she is mine…” I reply, my words tinged with pride and disbelief.
I lock eyes with Aksh and recollect a playful exchange between us months ago. We were at a party, where I was caught blatantly staring at Meher, and Aksh had purposely tried to know about my intentions, asking me, ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ I had to cleverly mask my feelings for her at that time. But now, the tables have turned. Today I stand here as the groom, awaiting his sister’s hand in marriage, admiring her in front of him without hiding my feelings. Aksh tilts his head in acknowledgement, the glint in his eyes telling me that he is remembering that incident too.
Composing myself, I watch as Meher and her father Pratap Walia approach the mandap. She looks as ready as I am to start this new chapter of our lives.
MEHER
My heart races like a wild stallion as I walk towards the mandap. I’m excited and nervous at the same time. Looking back, the past week had been nothing short of a rollercoaster ride for me and the Walia family. My dad has been stressed about marrying me into the Shergill family, but he has done an excellent job hiding it from our guests. As we walk now, his face reflects pride and joy, masking his worries while leading his daughter on her new journey.
Aksh bhai and Devika bhabhi stepped up and took up the responsibility of organising everything. Aksh bhai’s involvement became even more enthusiastic once bhabhi returned home. It’s a relief to see things fall into place for them.
Dad was equally happy when bhabhi came back and blessed her for this new chapter of her life as she carries on the legacy of the Walia family. Despite their strained relationship, Dad and Aksh bhai managed to maintain a cordial front in front of guests and relatives.
And then there’s Vishnu. Somehow he is engrossed in his own world these days. I don’t know, but something is keeping him occupied. Nevertheless, since the past two days, he has been actively helping Aksh bhai, sharing the responsibilities of my wedding preparations.
I finally reach the mandap, my heart racing with excitement, and my gaze locks with Ayaan’s. Despite the jittery feelings and chaos surrounding this journey, this moment feels right. I’ve decided not to let past disappointments ruin the joy of this day. I’m marrying the man I love and am determined to savour every moment of our memorable union. Although I’d seen Ayaan in his wedding sherwani at Simran’s boutique the other day, he looks like a perfect groom today with the turban on his head and the accompanying accessories. It wouldn’t be wrong to say I’m swooning and drooling over my groom today.
Ayaan’s family has embraced and welcomed me wholeheartedly, and even Aksh bhai, Devika bhabhi and Vishnu stand united in support of our love. Only my Dad is unsure, but deep down, I believe he’ll come to realise that Ayaan is the one who can genuinely make me happy.
Dad hands me over to Devika bhabhi, who helps me sit next to Ayaan. I can feel a sense of calm settle over me as I look at my groom. He extends his hand, and I take it without hesitation, allowing him to guide me into a comfortable sitting position. The way he looks at me, a mix of admiration for my beauty and revering the significance of this moment, warms my heart.
With a silent exchange of understanding, Dad takes his seat next to Ayaan’s father. Tension lingers in the air, threatening to overwhelm me, but Ayaan’s reassuring grip on my hand calms my nerves. Looking at him, I see a silent assurance that our families’ conflicts are momentarily set aside and everything will be alright. The priest’s chant draws our attention, and we follow his instructions with utmost devotion.
Then comes the pivotal moment. My heart races as Ayaan delicately ties the mangalsutra around my neck. My eyes well up, not because of sorrow, but overwhelming happiness that this is really happening. Ayaan then applies the sindoor to my forehead, his touch gentle and full of love. I feel a tear escape the corner of my eye, and before I can react, Ayaan tenderly wipes it away. My heart swells at his affection. And then, in a gesture that surprises and thrills me, he leans in to kiss me on the forehead after applying the sindoor. The crowd claps and cheers amid faint whispers and affectionate sighs. I glance at Dad, and for the first time, I see a glimmer of relief in his eyes. It’s as if he has finally realised that the man who can comfort his daughter, wipe away her tears, and love her unconditionally is none other than her King…Ayaan Shergill.
As the priest continues to chant the mantras (religious wedding chants), I’m enveloped in a cocoon of emotions. Love, happiness and a promise of forever fill the air. I hold onto Ayaan’s hand, knowing that no matter what challenges lie ahead, we are united, ready to face anything together. With the seven pheras of love and commitment, the rituals come to an end, and our journey as husband and wife officially begins.
Ayaan and I exchange a loving glance, both of us acutely aware of the significance of this moment. But there’s still one more step before we can fully revel in our newlywed status—seeking blessings from our families.
We first approach Ayaan’s father, his eyes shining with pride and affection. He blesses us with heartfelt words. Then comes the moment I’ve been both anticipating and dreading—seeking my dad’s blessings.
Dad smirks at Ayaan, his words laced with playful superiority, “I never thought I would see the day where you will be waiting to touch my feet and take my blessings?”
I want to roll my eyes at my father’s deliberate taunt. He didn’t need to showcase his superiority at this moment. Yet, Ayaan handles the situation with his signature style.
