Namaste
Chapter 5

The first light of dawn painted a gentle glow across the room as Nitara stirred awake. To her pleasant surprise, she found herself nestled in the warmth of Anubhav's embrace. The realisation brought a soft smile to her lips. It was a serene morning, and the clock on the wall whispered that it was seven.

"Good morning," she whispered, her voice a delicate melody that broke the stillness. Anubhav, with his silver eyes standing out against the morning light, slowly opened his eyes. Between them lay a shared moment that spoke volumes without words.

Anubhav reached for his phone and, with a swift motion, typed, "Good morning," displaying the message to Nitara. Her smile widened, acknowledging the simple yet profound connection they were building.

As Nitara rose to use the washroom, a quiet joy filled her. This, she realised, was her life now—a life where mornings began with shared smiles and silent conversations, where the ordinary moments held extraordinary meaning.

Amidst the rhythmic sounds of chopping vegetables and the soft kneading of dough, Nitara looked up from her task. The kitchen was alive with the comforting melody of morning preparations. She took a moment and then spoke to Anubhav, who was skillfully working the dough.

"Anubhav ji, are you free this morning?" she inquired, her voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

He nodded, a silent acknowledgment as he continued with his task.

"Good," she continued. "Can you get ready in something traditional by 10?" she asked, a note of excitement in her voice.

He looked up from his work, meeting her gaze, and nodded once again.

Nitara stood before the mirror, cradling a wine-coloured Banarasi saree — a precious legacy from her mother's wedding. Its rich fabric whispered tales of tradition and love. Feeling inspired, she decided to don the elegant attire herself.

With a mix of determination and a touch of uncertainty, Nitara opened YouTube on her phone, watching tutorials on the intricate art of draping a saree. Attempting to follow the steps, she soon found herself wrestling with the yards of fabric. Frustration tugged at her, and she settled for a half-draped look.

Peeking outside her room, she called, "Anubhav ji." Anubhav, wearing a golden kurta and white lowers, appeared in the doorway. His eyes, upon her half-draped form, widened momentarily, and a soft blush painted his cheeks. An unspoken understanding passed between them, and he instinctively looked away.

"Can you come inside?" Nitara said. Anubhav, his eyes still avoiding hers, nodding, stepped into the room.

Nitara, realising the situation, blushed herself. "Can you help me with the pleats?" she asked, her request met with a nod from Anubhav.

As Anubhav delicately assisted Nitara with the pleats of her mother's wedding saree, the air in the room became charged with a subtle yet undeniable energy. His fingers brushed against her waist, sending a jolt of electricity through Nitara. It was a fleeting touch, but it resonated profoundly.

After adjusting the pleats, Anubhav stepped back, creating a polite distance. Walking to the nightstand, he retrieved a notepad. With swift pen strokes, he wrote, "You look beautiful." Nitara blushed, a warmth spreading across her cheeks as she nodded in acknowledgment.

With care, she combed through her hair, each stroke a gentle ritual that connected her to the anticipation of the day. A small, round bindi adorned her forehead, a mark of tradition and grace.

A smile played on her lips as she admired herself in the mirror, not just for the external beauty but for the journey she was embarking upon. The room echoed with the rustle of her saree, a symphony of preparation for a new chapter.

Moving to her suitcase, she retrieved a precious photograph — a snapshot frozen in time, capturing the love and warmth of her parents. Holding it close to her heart, she spoke softly, "Maa, papa, I am getting married today. Please bless me. Anubhav ji is nice; I think I like him. Dhruv is very adorable. I see a beautiful future with them."

As she uttered these words, a single tear escaped her eye, falling gently on the frame. In that moment of reflection and connection with the past, Nitara found strength, hope, and a sense of profound belonging as she stepped into the unknown, carrying the blessings and memories of those who had shaped her journey.

Nitara checked her bank balance, she was only left with 27 thousand in the bank. Sighing, she put aside the phone. Anubhav was observing her. 

The three of them, Nitara, Anubhav, and Dhruv, found themselves standing in front of a serene temple.

Amidst the spiritual ambiance of the temple, Nitara's gaze fell upon a small hawan kund, a place of sacred fire. It was there that she decided to share a significant moment with Anubhav.

"Anubhav ji," she began, a quiet determination in her voice, "I wanted to get married according to proper Hindu rituals before taking the next step in our marriage. It's important for me." Anubhav nodded in understanding, a shared commitment to embrace tradition and ceremony.

The priest, draped in ceremonial attire, began chanting holy mantras, and the sacred fire flickered, casting a warm glow on the trio. Nitara and Anubhav, surrounded by the sanctity of the rituals, took the seven pheras, symbolising their vows and commitment to each other. Dhruv, seated with a gentle smile, witnessed the ceremony with innocent joy.

As the rituals progressed, the priest handed the mangalsutra to Anubhav, instructing him to tie it around Nitara's neck. Anubhav delicately performed the ritual, a silent promise exchanged between them. The vermilion, the color of auspicious beginnings, was then offered for Anubhav to fill Nitara's hair partition. In the process, a playful bit of vermilion fell on her nose, adding a touch of spontaneity to the sacred ceremony.

After the completion of the marriage ceremony, Nitara, with gratitude in her heart, prepared to offer a donation to the priest as a customary gesture. She took out three thousand rupees from her purse. However, before she could extend the money, Anubhav gently intervened, taking the responsibility to make the offering.

He gracefully handed the money to the priest, a silent exchange of respect and acknowledgment passing between them. Nitara, appreciating Anubhav's gesture, nodded with a warm smile.

Their act of kindness didn't end there. United in their intention to spread goodness, Nitara and Anubhav decided to donate a portion of their funds. Together, they contributed one thousand and one rupees to an elderly lady seated on the temple stairs.

As the afternoon sun painted their small apartment with a gentle glow, Nitara and Anubhav returned home after a photo session, carrying memories captured in pixels. In the quietude of their room, they sat, the shared silence between them pregnant with unspoken understanding.

Breaking the calm, Anubhav took Nitara's hand gently into his. In his other hand, he held a delicate gold ring. With a tender grace, he slid the ring onto her finger, a symbolic gesture marking the beginning of a shared journey.

With a soft smile, he picked up his phone and began to type. Nitara, watching with curiosity, saw the words forming on the screen: "It was my mother's, now it's yours." Anubhav turned the phone to show her the message, the words resonating with a profound significance that surpassed spoken language.

Touched by the sincerity and beauty of the moment, tears welled up in Nitara's eyes. "This is so beautiful," she whispered, her voice carrying a mixture of gratitude and emotion. Anubhav, looking into her eyes, understood the depth of her feelings.

"Thank you," she said, expressing her appreciation for the precious ring and the sentiment behind it. In a quiet exchange of glances, their unspoken connection spoke volumes.

Driven by a desire to reciprocate the sentiment, Nitara went to her suitcase and carefully retrieved a small velvet box. Holding it delicately, she spoke, "This was my father's. I want you to have it." As she opened the box, revealing a piece of her family's history, she extended it toward Anubhav. In this exchange of heirlooms, a bridge was built between their pasts, creating a shared narrative that would continue to unfold in the chapters of their shared life.

In the warm embrace of the moment, Nitara and Anubhav wrapped their arms around each other. The hug carried a silent reassurance, a connection that surpassed words. As they held each other, Nitara, feeling a surge of emotions, slowly leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on Anubhav's lips.

In that tender exchange, Nitara realized the profound truth that sometimes, safety and peace aren't found in the familiarity of the known but in the promise of the unknown. Anubhav, though a stranger in many ways, had become a source of solace and calm in her life.

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