The thick, white cotton Terasala hung vertically between them, completely blocking Siddanth's view of the Bride's side of the Mandapam.
He sat completely still on his low wooden peeta. His hands rested calmly on his knees.
On the other side of the white cloth, Krithika sat on her own peeta. Her heavy saree rustled slightly as she shifted her weight. Her sister and her friends, who had walked closely behind the massive bamboo butta, now sat directly on the carpeted floor next to the edge of the elevated Mandapam platform.
Krithika looked at the blank white cloth separating her from Siddanth. She had not seen his face since Sangeet night. She reached out her right hand, her fingers adorned with heavy gold rings and red gorintaku dye. She pinched the bottom edge of the white cloth and attempted to lift it slightly, trying to peek underneath to see him.
Smack.
Her mother, Suma, reached over and slapped Krithika's hand away sharply.
"Do not touch the cloth," Suma scolded her in a harsh whisper, adjusting the heavy gold necklace resting on Krithika's collarbone. "Sit steadily. The priest has not given the signal. You cannot look at him yet."
Krithika pulled her hand back, rubbing her knuckles. She sighed and looked straight ahead at the white fabric.
On the Groom's side of the cloth, Sesikala leaned slightly forward from her seated position behind Siddanth.
"She is sitting right there, Siddu," Sesikala whispered quietly near her son's ear. "I saw her when they lifted her out of the basket. She is looking a hundred times more beautiful now."
Siddanth did not move his head. He kept his eyes focused on the brass plate sitting in front of the priest. He simply smiled, hearing that.
While the couple sat perfectly still on the Mandapam, the massive Kakatiya courtyard continued to fill with late arrivals. The staff moved efficiently, guiding the high-profile guests to their designated seats on the raised wooden dais without disrupting the flow of the ongoing rituals.
Prabhas, Rana Daggubati, and Gopichand walked through the main archway together. They wore simple, elegant silk kurtas. They bypassed the front rows and took seats near the middle of the amphitheater.
S.S. Rajamouli walked in alongside them, accompanied by his wife, Rama, and his father, Vijayendra Prasad. Rajamouli took his seat next to Sachin Tendulkar.
A sudden increase in the ambient whispers of the crowd signaled the arrival of true cinematic royalty.
Amitabh Bachchan walked through the teakwood doors. He wore a crisp, immaculate white kurta and a beige shawl draped over his shoulder. He walked with a slow, highly deliberate, commanding presence. He was accompanied by his wife, Jaya Bachchan, his son Abhishek, and his daughter-in-law Aishwarya.
Distant relatives from Krithika's extended family and Siddanth's distant cousins from Telangana filled the remaining gaps on the soft Persian carpets.
The courtyard was now holding over seven hundred people. Yet, aside from the low drone of the classical Nadaswaram music, it was incredibly quiet.
The head priest checked his watch for the third time.
"The exact Muhurtham time is here," the head priest announced into his microphone. His voice carried absolute authority. "Bring the Jeelakarra Bellam."
This was the core of the Telugu wedding ceremony. It was not the tying of the Mangalsutra, nor the exchanging of rings, that marked the exact moment of marriage. It was the Jeelakarra Bellam.
Two priest assistants stepped forward onto the platform. They carried two small, fresh betel leaves. Resting exactly in the center of each dark green leaf was a thick, sticky, dark brown paste.
The paste was a mixture of crushed cumin seeds (jeelakarra) and solid jaggery (bellam).
The priest handed one betel leaf to Siddanth. He handed the second betel leaf to Krithika on the other side of the white cloth.
"Siddanth babu, hold the leaf with your right hand. Place your left hand underneath it," the priest instructed.
Siddanth held the leaf exactly as told.
"Krithika amma, do the same," the second priest instructed her.
"The combination of cumin and jaggery represents the inseparable nature of the marriage," the head priest explained over the microphone for the benefit of the guests. "Cumin is slightly bitter. Jaggery is extremely sweet. When ground together, they cannot be separated. The couple must remain together through the bitter and the sweet moments of their life."
The priest began to chant the sacred mantras of the entire ceremony. The chanting grew louder, increasing in tempo. The Thavil drums in the background began to beat faster, building a massive crescendo of sound.
"Raise your hands," the priest commanded.
Siddanth lifted his hands, holding the betel leaf containing the paste high in the air.
On the other side of the cloth, Krithika did the same.
"Place the paste exactly on the crown of the head," the priest yelled over the rising drums. "Now!"
Siddanth reached directly over the top edge of the thick white Terasala cloth. He could not see Krithika's head, but he felt the fresh jasmine flowers woven into her hair. He brought his hands down and pressed the sticky cumin and jaggery paste, still resting on the betel leaf, firmly onto the absolute crown of her head.
At the same second, Krithika reached over the cloth. Her hands found the crown of Siddanth's head. She pressed her betel leaf and the sticky paste down firmly into his dark hair.
The Nadaswaram musicians hit their highest, most piercing note. The drums crashed.
They held the paste on each other's heads, keeping their hands completely steady, establishing a direct physical and spiritual connection over the dividing cloth.
"The Muhurtham is set," the head priest announced loudly. "The stars are aligned. They are married."
The massive crowd inside the Kakatiya courtyard threw akshinthalu to bless the couple. Virat Kohli and Shikhar Dhawan stood up from their chairs and cheered.
"Remove the Terasala," the priest instructed his assistants.
The two assistants pulled the thick white cloth away, lifting it up and carrying it off the Mandapam platform entirely.
The physical barrier was gone.
Siddanth and Krithika looked at each other for the first time that day.
Then the priest said to remove their hands from each other's heads. Siddanth and Krithika slowly lowered their arms, leaving the sticky paste resting on their heads.
Siddanth looked at her sitting directly across from him. He saw the heavy gold vaddanam resting on her waist, the gold border of her cream saree, and the thick garland of fresh flowers around her neck. He saw the slight tremor in her hands.
Krithika looked at him. She saw the simple, unbleached cream silk pancha. She saw the custom gold Kakatiya arch border that matched her own attire perfectly.
Siddanth did not smile widely. He simply looked at her, his dark eyes entirely calm, projecting an unbreakable sense of security.
Krithika let out a small, shaky breath. She smiled at him, the nervous tension finally leaving her shoulders.
The priest did not allow them to stare at each other for long. The rituals had to continue in a highly specific sequence.
The priest handed Siddanth a small, intricately carved wooden yoke.
"Place this gently on the bride's head," the priest instructed.
Siddanth took the wooden yoke. He reached forward and placed it lightly on Krithika's head.
"This signifies the shared burden of life," the priest explained over the microphone. "Just as two oxen must pull a cart together, the husband and wife must bear the responsibilities of their household equally."
Siddanth removed the yoke.
A large silver plate was placed in the center of the platform. Resting on a bed of raw rice and yellow turmeric powder was a thick, yellow cotton thread. Suspended from the center of the thread were two solid gold, semi-circular discs.
This was the Mangalsutra, known in Telugu as the Thali.
One gold disc had been provided by Siddanth's family. The other gold disc had been provided by Krithika's family. They were strung together on the single yellow thread, representing the union of the two distinct families.
The priest picked up the silver plate containing the Mangalsutra. He walked down the short wooden steps of the Mandapam and began moving quickly through the crowd.
He walked to the dais first. He held the plate out to Amitabh Bachchan. Amitabh touched the gold discs lightly with his fingertips, offering a silent blessing. The priest moved to Sachin Tendulkar, who did the same. He walked past Prabhas, Virat Kohli, and the rest of the cricketers, allowing the elders and the significant figures in the crowd to touch the sacred thread and bless it with their good intentions.
After five minutes of navigating the crowd, the priest returned to the Mandapam.
He placed the blessed Mangalsutra into Siddanth's hands.
"Siddanth babu, stand up," the priest instructed.
Siddanth stood up. His massive frame towered over Krithika, who remained seated on her peeta.
"Krithika amma, look down," the priest told her.
Krithika bowed her head slightly, exposing the back of her neck.
"The Mangalsutra must be tied with three knots," the priest explained over the microphone, his voice echoing clearly. "The first knot represents the groom's commitment to the bride. The second knot represents his commitment to her parents. The third knot represents his commitment to God."
The Nadaswaram players raised their instruments. The Thavil drummers began to play a fast auspicious beat.
Siddanth stepped forward. He stood beside Krithika.
He held the two ends of the thick yellow cotton thread in his hands. He leaned down, bringing the thread over her head. He carefully positioned the two solid gold discs so they rested perfectly flat against the center of her chest, right above her heavy gold necklaces.
He brought the two ends of the thread around to the back of her neck.
He tied the first knot securely. The music swelled.
He tied the second knot, pulling the yellow thread tight against her skin.
As Siddanth prepared to tie the third and final knot, he shifted his hands slightly. He tied the knot firmly. Then, under the cover of his massive hands, entirely hidden from the cameras and the thousands of watching guests.
He pinched the soft skin on the back of Krithika's neck. He didn't pinch her hard enough to hurt her, but he pinched her firmly enough to startle her completely out of her focus.
Krithika gasped slightly, her shoulders jerking upward. She immediately clamped her mouth shut to prevent herself from making a noise in the middle of the ritual.
Siddanth stepped back, his face completely expressionless, looking like the picture of devotion.
"The knots are tied," the priest announced.
The crowd cheered heavily. The drummers hit their crescendo.
"Siddanth babu, you may take your seat," the priest instructed.
Siddanth then sat beside Krithika.
As Siddanth lowered himself, reaching the level of Krithika's seated position, Krithika did not hesitate.
She reached her right hand out, lightning fast, directly into the fold of his unbleached cream silk pancha. She grabbed the skin right above his waistline, right where he was completely unprotected by the silk, and pinched him viciously.
Siddanth's eyes widened slightly. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his muscles locking instantly against the sharp pain.
He did not make a sound. He sat perfectly straight.
He looked at Krithika.
Krithika looked back at him. She offered a perfectly sweet, entirely innocent smile, her hands folded politely in her lap.
Siddanth rubbed his waist subtly with his left hand, fighting a grin.
The priest, completely unaware of the warfare happening two feet in front of him, continued the ceremony.
"Bring the Akshinthalu," the priest commanded.
Assistants walked through the crowd, distributing small silver bowls filled with raw yellow rice—akshinthalu—to all the guests sitting on the dais and the carpets.
Subba Rao and Suma stepped onto the Mandapam platform first. They took handfuls of the yellow rice.
"Bless the couple," the priest chanted.
Subba Rao and Suma poured the yellow rice over Siddanth and Krithika's heads, the hard grains bouncing off the floral garlands and onto the wooden floorboards.
Vikram Deva and Sesikala stepped up next, pouring heavy handfuls of rice over their son and their new daughter.
Then came the guests.
Amitabh Bachchan walked up the short wooden stairs, his tall frame moving gracefully. He placed a gentle hand on Siddanth's shoulder and dropped a handful of yellow rice onto his head. Sachin Tendulkar followed, offering a quiet blessing.
Then came the cricketers.
Virat Kohli, Shikhar Dhawan, Dhoni, Sameer, Arjun, Feroz, and Yuvraj Singh did not politely sprinkle the rice. They walked onto the platform holding entire bowls of the hard, yellow grains.
"Congratulations, Captain," Virat grinned.
He aggressively dumped a handful of rice directly over Siddanth's head, ensuring it got completely stuck in his dark hair.
Siddanth sat perfectly still on the peeta, enduring the assault. He was officially married. The yellow thread was tied. The gold borders of their silk garments matched perfectly on the platform. The Kakatiya village echoed with the sounds of the Dappu drums and the cheers of the crowd.
Siddanth and Krithika sat on their respective wooden peetas. The priest did not allow them to rest. He signaled to his assistants, who immediately stepped forward carrying two massive, heavy silver bowls.
These bowls were filled with raw rice mixed with wet turmeric and saffron. With some pearls mixed in it.
The assistant placed one silver bowl in front of Siddanth. The second assistant placed the other silver bowl in front of Krithika.
"The Talambralu," the head priest announced over the microphone. "This ritual signifies prosperity, happiness, and a lifelong shower of blessings upon the couple."
The priest looked at Siddanth and Krithika. He smiled slightly, fully aware of how competitive this specific ritual always became.
"Siddanth babu, take a handful of the rice," the priest instructed. "Pour them over the bride's head. Krithika amma, you will do the same immediately after him. We will repeat this process three times slowly. After the third time... you may proceed at your own pace."
Siddanth reached into the silver bowl. The rice and pearls slipped through his fingers. He gathered a large handful. He leaned forward and gently poured them over Krithika's head. The pearls bounced off her dark hair and the heavy silk of her saree, scattering across the wooden floorboards of the Mandapam.
"Now the bride," the priest said.
Krithika took a handful of rice and pearls. She reached forward and poured them over Siddanth's head. The pearls bounced off his broad shoulders and landed on his cream silk pancha.
They repeated the slow, deliberate pouring two more times.
"The formal portion is complete," the priest declared, stepping back slightly to avoid the crossfire.
That was the signal.
"Attack!" Sameer yelled.
Siddanth did not hesitate. He plunged both his hands into the heavy silver bowl, scooping up a massive pile of rice, and dumped them rapidly directly over Krithika's head.
Krithika retaliated instantly. She grabbed her own handful and poured over him.
The Mandapam dissolved into complete chaos.
"Faster, Sid!" Virat Kohli yelled, standing next to Sameer. "Do not let her dominate you! Increase the speed!"
"Bury him, Krithi!" Anjali screamed from the carpets, clapping her hands. "Do not stop pouring!"
"She is moving too fast!" Shikhar Dhawan yelled, pointing at Krithika, who was scooping rice and pearls with both hands. "Sid, defend your wicket! Use your elbows!"
Siddanth laughed out loud. He scooped another massive handful and poured it over Krithika, entirely ignoring the mixture she was currently throwing at his neck. The smooth white spheres bounced everywhere, creating a loud, chaotic clattering sound against the hollow wooden platform.
Krithika was laughing so hard she dropped half her mixture before they even reached Siddanth.
"He has longer arms!" Riya yelled defensively from Krithika's side. "It is an unfair advantage!"
"No excuses!" Jadeja yelled back from the cricketers' section.
Siddanth grabbed the entire silver bowl with both his hands. He didn't scoop anymore. He simply tilted the heavy bowl forward, attempting to pour the entire remaining contents over her in one massive strike.
Krithika saw his move. She immediately grabbed her own bowl, lifting it defensively like a shield, while trying to pour her remaining pearls at him simultaneously.
The pearls collided in the air, raining down on both of them, covering the floor of the Mandapam entirely.
Siddanth set his empty silver bowl down. Krithika set hers down, breathing heavily, pulling a stray pearl out of the folds of her silk saree.
"The Groom wins," Virat announced loudly, acting as the unofficial umpire. "Clear volume advantage."
"The Bride wins," Anjali countered immediately. "She maintained her speed."
The head priest raised his hand, restoring order. "The Talambralu is complete. Bring the homam."
The assistants quickly swept the scattered pearls off the center of the platform to prevent anyone from slipping. They brought forward a small, square brick fire pit and placed it infront of the two peetas.
Before lighting the fire, the priest performed the Brahmamudi.
"Stand up," the priest instructed.
Siddanth and Krithika stood. The priest took the very end of Siddanth's cream silk kanduva—the piece draped over his shoulder. He took the heavy pallu of Krithika's saree.
He tied the two pieces of fabric securely together into a tight knot.
"This is the Brahmamudi," the priest explained. "The knot of Brahma. It physically binds the two of you together for the remainder of these rituals, and spiritually binds you for life."
Siddanth felt the slight tug on his shoulder as Krithika shifted her weight. They sat back down on the peetas, moving carefully so as not to untie the silk knot.
The priest placed dry mango wood into the brick pit. He poured a spoonful of clarified ghee over the wood and lit it with a match.
The Agnihotram—the sacred fire—flared up immediately, crackling loudly.
"The fire is the ultimate witness," the priest stated, his voice turning incredibly serious. "In Vedic tradition, no vow is permanent unless it is spoken in front of Agni. Siddanth babu, hold the bride's right hand."
Siddanth reached across the low fire pit. He took Krithika's right hand in his. His large, calloused hand completely engulfed hers.
This was the Panigrahanam.
"Repeat the vows," the priest instructed.
Siddanth looked directly at Krithika. He ignored the cameras, the crowd, and the noise. He repeated the heavy Sanskrit verses exactly as the priest chanted them.
"I take your hand for happiness," Siddanth recited. "I promise to protect you. I promise to cherish you. I promise to stand by you in your youth and in your old age."
Krithika held his hand tightly, her eyes locked on his.
"Now, the Saptapadi," the priest announced. "The Seven Steps. You will walk around the holy fire seven times. Each step represents a specific vow."
Siddanth and Krithika stood up together. The silk knot connecting them pulled tight. Siddanth let go of her hand. He stepped slightly ahead of her, taking the lead position.
"First step," the priest chanted. "For nourishment and food."
Siddanth took a slow, deliberate step forward, circling the fire pit. Krithika followed him exactly, stepping where he stepped.
"Second step," the priest chanted. "For physical and mental strength."
Siddanth took the second step. The heat of the fire warmed his bare chest.
"Third step. For prosperity and wealth."
They moved together, the heavy silk dragging slightly across the floorboards.
"Fourth step. For joy and happiness."
"Fifth step. For healthy children."
"Sixth step. For health and a long life together."
Siddanth paused before taking the final step.
"Seventh step," the priest chanted loudly. "For lifelong friendship."
Siddanth took the seventh step, completing the circle around the fire. He stopped and turned to face Krithika.
"You have taken seven steps together," the priest declared. "You are now eternal friends. The marriage is sealed."
They returned to their peetas and sat down.
"Bring the puffed rice," the priest instructed.
Varun, Krithika's fourteen-year-old cousin who had blocked Siddanth at the Kasi Yatra the previous evening, walked onto the Mandapam platform. He held a large brass bowl filled with white puffed rice.
This was the Laja Homam.
Varun stood next to Krithika. He reached into the bowl and placed a large handful of the puffed rice directly into Krithika's cupped hands.
"Siddanth babu, place your hands underneath hers to support them," the priest said.
Siddanth reached forward. He placed his open palms directly underneath Krithika's hands, physically supporting the weight of her offering.
"Offer it to the fire," the priest chanted.
Together, with Siddanth guiding her hands, Krithika poured the puffed rice into the burning Agnihotram. The fire flared up, consuming the offering instantly.
"This offering is made to ensure the long life and prosperity of the husband," the priest explained.
Varun handed Krithika two more handfuls of puffed rice, which she offered into the fire with Siddanth's support. Once the third offering was complete, Varun stepped back off the platform.
"Now, the Sannikallu Tokkadam," the priest announced.
An assistant placed a heavy, solid, flat piece of black granite stone near the edge of the fire pit.
"Stand up," the priest instructed.
Siddanth and Krithika stood.
"Siddanth babu, hold the bride's right foot. Place it firmly upon the stone."
Siddanth knelt down on his right knee. He reached out and gently held Krithika's right foot. He guided her foot forward and placed it flat against the hard surface of the black grindstone.
"This signifies strength," the priest chanted into the microphone. "Just as this stone is unshakeable, the bride must remain strong and steady through all the hardships and challenges of life. She must be the solid foundation of the household."
While her foot was still resting on the solid stone, the priest handed Siddanth a small silver plate containing two intricate silver toe rings—mettelu.
This was the Mettelu Dharana.
Siddanth picked up the first silver ring. He looked up at Krithika, then looked down at her foot resting on the stone. He carefully slid the heavy silver ring onto the second toe of her right foot, pressing it gently to secure it.
He then moved to her left foot, which remained on the wooden floorboard, and slid the second silver ring onto her left toe.
"The toe rings signify her married status," the priest explained.
Siddanth stood back up.
"The rituals on the Mandapam are complete," the head priest announced, picking up his brass plate. "We must now view the stars."
Siddanth and Krithika, still tied together by the silk Brahmamudi knot, walked slowly out of the palace set.
The sun was shining brightly. There were no stars visible in the daylight.
"Arundhati Nakshatra Darshanam," the priest said, pointing his finger up toward the clear blue sky. "Look up."
Siddanth and Krithika tilted their heads back, looking at the empty sky.
"In ancient astronomy, the stars Arundhati and Vashistha are unique," the priest explained, his voice carrying a deep, philosophical tone. "Most binary star systems consist of one star remaining stationary while the other revolves around it. But Arundhati and Vashistha revolve around each other. They move in tandem. They are perfectly balanced."
The priest lowered his hand.
"Look at the sky and imagine the stars," the priest instructed the couple. "Your marriage must be like Arundhati and Vashistha. Neither of you should remain stationary while the other orbits you. You must move together. You must balance each other."
Siddanth looked at the sky. He looked at Krithika.
"Do you see them?" Siddanth asked quietly.
Krithika looked at the empty blue sky, then looked at him. "I see them."
The priest smiled. Then they returned to the mandapam.
"The wedding is complete," the head priest declared loudly to the crowd. "May the gods bless the new couple."
The Nadaswaram musicians played their final, joyous tune. The entire Kakatiya courtyard stood up and applauded. The long, intricate sequence of Vedic rituals that had begun before sunrise was finally over. Siddanth Deva and Krithika were officially, unequivocally married.