Siddanth Deva [Image]
Krithika Deva [Image]
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The private dining was quiet. Siddanth, Krithika, and their families and friends finished the vegetarian feast. The heavy, comforting food served on the banana leaves finally restored the energy they had burned during the morning's grueling rituals.
Siddanth washed his hands in a basin brought by the catering staff. He wiped his hands with a cloth napkin and took a long drink of water.
"We need to return to the Mandapam," Vikram Deva stated, checking his watch. "The priest is waiting."
The core family stood up and walked back out into the Kakatiya courtyard. The massive crowds of guests had already moved to the courtyard or retreated to the residential manors to rest. The palace was occupied only by the close friends and immediate relatives who needed to be present for the post-marriage rituals.
Siddanth and Krithika walked barefoot back onto the raised Mandapam platform and took their seats on the wooden peetas.
The head priest had already reset the central area. He had cleared the remaining ashes from the Agnihotram fire pit. In its place, he had set up the Nagavalli ritual.
The priest had placed four small, polished copper pots in a perfect square on the wooden floorboards. He took a spool of thick, raw white cotton thread. He walked around the four pots, wrapping the white thread around the necks of the copper vessels, physically connecting them to form a square perimeter.
"These four pots represent the four directions of the universe," the priest explained over the microphone, his voice echoing in the quieter courtyard. "The thread binds them together, creating a sacred, protected space for the couple."
The priest chanted a series of short Sanskrit mantras. He instructed Siddanth and Krithika to revolve around the four pots and offer small pinches of yellow turmeric rice to each of the four copper pots. They completed the offerings systematically.
"The Nagavalli is complete," the priest announced. He set his brass plate aside. He looked at the friends sitting on the carpets near the Mandapam. "We will now perform the ring game."
The atmosphere on the platform instantly vanished. Sameer, Arjun, Feroz, and Virat Kohli stood up from the carpets and stepped closer to the edge of the Mandapam. Anjali, Priya, Riya, Kavya, and Sneha immediately moved to Krithika's side of the platform, forming a protective barrier.
An assistant priest carried a deep, narrow-necked brass pot onto the platform. He placed it exactly between Siddanth and Krithika.
The brass pot was filled to the brim with a mixture of water, raw milk, and thousands of crushed red rose petals. The liquid was completely opaque; it was impossible to see the bottom.
The priest held up a gold ring.
"I will drop this ring into the pot," the priest announced. "The groom and the bride must both put their right hands into the water and search for the ring. Whoever pulls the ring out of the water first wins the round. Best of three rounds. The winner will supposedly have the upper hand in the marriage."
"Do not let him win, Krithi," Anjali instructed her sister firmly. "He has massive hands. He will try to block you."
"Use your reflexes, Sid" Virat advised Siddanth from the sidelines. "You catch leather balls traveling at a hundred and fifty kilometers an hour. This is just a piece of gold in milk."
Siddanth looked at Krithika. She had her right hand poised exactly three inches above the water, her eyes locked intensely on the brass pot.
Siddanth smirked slightly.
"Ready," the priest said. He held the gold ring over the center of the pot. He dropped it. Plop.
"Go!" Sameer yelled.
Krithika plunged her hand into the cold milk and rose petals. Siddanth plunged his right hand in a fraction of a second later.
The neck of the brass pot was incredibly narrow. Siddanth's large hand took up almost all the available space. He felt Krithika's fingers brushing frantically against his knuckles underwater.
He touched the smooth gold ring sitting flat on the bottom of the brass pot. He could easily grab it. Instead, he kept his fingers flat, intentionally pushing the ring slightly to the left, directly toward Krithika's searching fingers.
Krithika felt the metal. She clamped her fingers around it instantly, pulled her hand out of the water, and held the gold ring high in the air.
"One point to the Bride!" Anjali cheered loudly, clapping her hands.
Virat threw his hands in the air. "Sid! You were too slow! You didn't even close your hand!"
"The neck of the pot is narrow," Siddanth defended himself with a completely straight face, wiping milk off his hand with a towel. "I couldn't maneuver."
"Excuses," Jadeja laughed from the background.
"Round two," the priest said, taking the ring from Krithika.
He dropped it into the water.
Siddanth knew he had to make the competition look authentic, or his friends would never let him hear the end of it. Both of them plunged their hands into the water. This time, Siddanth found the ring immediately. He closed his fingers around it, completely blocking Krithika's hand, and pulled it out of the water in less than two seconds.
"One point to the Groom," Sameer announced, pointing at Siddanth. "The reflexes are back."
"Round three. The decider," the priest said.
He dropped the ring for the final time.
Siddanth and Krithika shoved their hands into the brass pot. The water splashed over the sides, spilling onto the wooden floorboards.
Siddanth's fingers found the ring first. He gripped it lightly between his index and middle fingers. He felt Krithika's hand scraping against the bottom of the pot, searching frantically.
Siddanth maintained his outward expression of intense concentration. He shifted his wrist slightly. He moved his fingers directly under Krithika's palm and deliberately released the gold ring against her skin.
Krithika felt the ring hit her palm. She closed her fist tightly, trapping it. She ripped her hand out of the water, holding the ring up triumphantly, splashing milk droplets across Siddanth's pancha.
"The Bride wins the series!" Anjali yelled, hugging her sister from the side.
"Match fixing," Sameer complained loudly, pointing an accusing finger at Siddanth. "I demand a formal inquiry. He threw the final round."
"I was outplayed," Siddanth stated calmly, accepting a fresh towel from his mother and wiping his arm dry. He did not look at Sameer; he looked at Krithika.
Krithika looked back at him. She offered a small, knowing smile, slipping the gold ring onto her finger.
"The games are complete," the head priest announced. He turned to Subba Rao and Suma. "Present the new clothes."
The bride's parents present the couple with a final set of new clothes after the main rituals, signifying their fresh start.
Subba Rao walked onto the Mandapam holding a silver tray. He handed a folded, heavy silk saree to Krithika, and a folded silk kurta and pancha to Siddanth.
"You may go to the dressing rooms to change," the priest instructed.
Siddanth and Krithika stood up from their peetas. The staff guided them off the Mandapam and toward two separate, air-conditioned dressing rooms situated on the left side of the Kakatiya courtyard.
Siddanth walked into his room. Siddanth quickly took off the unbleached cream Madhuparkam garments. He changed into the new clothes presented by Subba Rao—a deep maroon silk kurta with a gold border.
He walked back out to the courtyard exactly ten minutes later.
Krithika emerged from her dressing room shortly after. She had changed into a bright pink Kanjeevaram silk saree. The heavy gold vaddanam was gone, replaced by simpler jewelry.
They walked back to the Mandapam.
"We will now perform the Odi Biyyam," the priest instructed Krithika's mother.
Suma stepped onto the platform. She carried a wide brass plate filled with raw rice, dried turmeric roots, whole betel nuts, and dry coconut halves.
Krithika stood in the center of the Mandapam. She took the heavy pallu of her pink silk saree and a towel was placed on it and the she held the fabrics open with both hands, creating a pouch.
Suma reached into the brass plate. She took a large double-handful of the raw rice and turmeric mixture. She poured the rice directly into the open pallu of Krithika's saree.
Suma repeated this motion exactly five times.
"The Odi Biyyam ensures that the bride carries wealth, prosperity, and the blessings of her maternal home into her new household," the priest translated the meaning for the crowd.
Then five more females of the bride family came and did the same as Suma.
Then after that rice was transferred to the tambalam.
Krithika carefully tied small amount of rice from the tambalam at the end of the pallu into a knot, securing the heavy rice and turmeric.
"The Mandapam rituals are now entirely concluded," the head priest declared, packing up his brass bell and texts.
Siddanth turned to walk down the wooden stairs of the Mandapam. He stopped at the edge of the platform and looked down at the soft Persian carpet where he had left his modern leather shoes hours ago.
The carpet was completely empty.
Siddanth sighed heavily. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked straight ahead.
Standing exactly at the bottom of the wooden stairs, completely blocking his path, was Anjali. She was flanked by Riya, Kavya, and Sneha.
Anjali was holding Siddanth's expensive leather shoes in her right hand. She held a small, physical notepad and a pen in her left hand.
"Are you looking for something, Bava?" Anjali asked, offering a wide, entirely innocent smile.
Siddanth did not argue. He knew the North Indian tradition of Joota Chupai (shoe stealing) had become a mandatory event in modern weddings across the country.
"I am looking for my shoes, Anjali," Siddanth said flatly.
"We found them," Riya announced proudly, pointing at the shoes. "They were abandoned. We rescued them."
"How much?" Siddanth asked, getting straight to the point.
Virat Kohli and Sameer stepped up behind Siddanth on the Mandapam platform, acting as his official negotiators.
"Do not pay the asking price," Virat whispered loudly to Siddanth. "We bargain. We walk away if they demand too much."
"We do not negotiate with terrorists," Sameer added, glaring at Anjali.
Anjali ignored them completely. She flipped open her notepad.
"We do not want cash," Anjali stated formally. "Cash is boring. We have a list of demands."
"Read the demand," Siddanth instructed calmly.
Siddanth did not argue. He knew the North Indian tradition of Joota Chupai (shoe stealing) had become a mandatory event in modern weddings across the country.
"I am looking for my shoes, Anjali," Siddanth said flatly.
"We found them," Riya announced proudly, pointing at the shoes. "They were abandoned. We rescued them."
"How much?" Siddanth asked, getting straight to the point.
Virat Kohli and Sameer stepped up behind Siddanth on the Mandapam platform, acting as his official negotiators.
"Do not pay the asking price," Virat whispered loudly to Siddanth. "We bargain. We walk away if they demand too much."
"We do not negotiate with terrorists," Sameer added, glaring at Anjali.
Anjali ignored them completely. She flipped open her notepad.
"We do not want cash," Anjali stated formally. "Cash is boring. We have a list of demands."
"Read the list," Siddanth instructed calmly.
"Demand number one," Anjali read from the pad. "I want a brand new Mercedes Benz. And you must pay for the petrol for the next twenty years."
"Absolutely ridiculous!" Sameer yelled defensively. "Twenty years of petrol? Do you know the global fuel index? The car alone is extortion!"
Siddanth looked at Anjali. "Approved. Choose the model and send the details to Rahul."
Sameer whipped his head around, staring at Siddanth in shock. "What? You just agreed to that? You didn't even counter-offer a Honda!"
"Demand number two," Anjali continued smoothly, smiling brightly. "A fully funded, all-expenses-paid trip to Europe for all of us." She gestured to Riya, Priya, Kavya, and Sneha.
"No!" Virat argued, playing his role perfectly. "You get a trip to Goa! Maybe Thailand! Europe is out of the budget!"
Siddanth nodded at Anjali. "Approved. Rahul will handle the flight bookings and the hotel itineraries."
"Demand number three," Anjali read, looking up. "I want completely unrestricted access to the Shamshabad estate. I can come to see my sister whenever I want, unannounced."
"That is a massive security risk!" Sameer yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "You cannot just have people walking into his compound!"
"Approved," Siddanth said.
"Demand number four," Anjali smiled, enjoying the complete lack of resistance. "I want every single NEXUS electronic product—phones, tablets, laptops—sent directly to my house before they even hit the retail market."
"That violates corporate espionage laws!" Virat shouted.
"Approved," Siddanth said instantly. "You will be added to the internal beta testing distribution list."
"Demand number five. The final demand," Anjali concluded, closing the notepad. "You will buy me new designer dresses and jewelry whenever I ask for them. Without question."
"Extortion!" Sameer yelled. "Sid, walk away! Walk to the manor barefoot! The gravel is not that sharp!"
"Approved," Siddanth said. He looked at Anjali. "Is that all?"
Anjali paused. She looked at her notepad, then looked at Siddanth. She had prepared for a thirty-minute haggling session. She had prepared intense counter-arguments for the Mercedes.
"That was the whole list," Anjali admitted, slightly disappointed.
"You are a terrible negotiator, Sid," Virat complained, shaking his head in absolute disgust. "You gave away a Mercedes and twenty years of petrol in ten seconds. You showed no resistance."
"I am tired, Virat," Siddanth replied reasonably. "I want to put my shoes on."
Anjali laughed, handing the leather shoes back to Siddanth. "You are too easy, Bava. I should have asked for a helicopter."
Siddanth slipped his feet into his shoes. He stepped down off the wooden Mandapam platform for the final time. Krithika walked down the stairs right behind him, the heavy knot of rice tied into her pallu.
The atmosphere in the courtyard shifted again. The laughter from the shoe extortion faded away quickly.
The staff brought forward a small, round brass basin. They placed it on a low table near the entrance of the courtyard.
It was time for the Appaginthalu.
The Appaginthalu is the official, final handover ceremony. It is the moment the bride's parents formally transfer the responsibility of their daughter to the groom's family.
Subba Rao and Suma walked over to the brass basin. Vikram Deva and Sesikala stood on the opposite side of the table. Siddanth stood next to his parents. Krithika stood next to hers.
A priest poured a mixture of raw, cold milk and clean water into the brass basin.
"Place your hands in the water," the priest instructed Subba Rao.
Subba Rao reached his hands into the cold milk. His hands were shaking slightly.
"Krithika amma, place your hands into your father's hands," the priest said.
Krithika reached forward. She placed her hands directly into her father's wet hands inside the brass basin.
Subba Rao looked at his daughter. He swallowed hard, his jaw tight.
"Vikram Deva garu," Subba Rao said, his voice dropping to a low, rough whisper. "Hold out your hands."
Vikram Deva reached into the brass basin.
Subba Rao lifted Krithika's hands out of the milk. He slowly, deliberately placed his daughter's hands directly into Vikram Deva's hands.
"We raised her with love," Subba Rao said, staring directly into Vikram Deva's eyes. "We give her to your family. She is yours now."
Vikram Deva held Krithika's hands firmly. He looked at Subba Rao with respect.
"We accept her," Vikram Deva replied, his voice deep and solid. "She will never lack for anything in our home."
Vikram Deva lifted Krithika's hands and placed them into Sesikala's hands.
Sesikala gripped Krithika's hands tightly. Tears were streaming down Sesikala's face. She didn't speak; she just nodded at Suma, offering a silent promise between mothers.
Finally, Sesikala lifted Krithika's hands and placed them directly into Siddanth's hands.
Siddanth held her hands in the cold milk mixture. He looked at Krithika. Her eyes were red, but she was holding back her tears.
The handover was complete.
"The Appaginthalu is finished," the priest announced softly. "The couple will now go to the Bride's manor for the final blessings."
Siddanth and Krithika dried their hands on a towel. They walked out of the main Kakatiya courtyard.
Waiting on the gravel pathway was the massive wooden ratham—the exact same chariot Siddanth had ridden that morning. The white horses were hitched and ready.
Siddanth helped Krithika step up onto the chariot. He stepped up beside her. They did not take the seats; they stood in the center.
The handler clicked his tongue. The chariot rolled forward slowly down the gravel path. They did not travel far. The chariot stopped directly in front of the heavy wooden doors of the Bride's manor on the left side of the Kakatiya set.
Siddanth and Krithika stepped down. They walked inside the manor.
They walked straight into the living room, stopping in front of the small pooja area where Krithika had performed her Gauri pooja that morning. They folded their hands, bowed their heads, and took a final blessing from the turmeric idol.
It was time to leave.
They turned around and walked back toward the front door of the manor. Subba Rao, Suma, Anjali, and the entire extended family were standing in the living room, blocking the exit.
This was the Sannaghattam—the Bidaai.
Krithika looked at her mother. The stoicism she had maintained throughout the entire day finally broke.
Krithika let out a sharp, ragged sob. She stepped forward and threw her arms around Suma's neck. Suma broke down instantly, hugging her daughter tightly, burying her face in Krithika's shoulder and crying loudly.
Anjali stepped up and wrapped her arms around both of them, tears streaming down her own face. The aunts and female relatives standing in the background began to wipe their eyes with their sarees, the emotional weight of the departure crashing down on the room.
Siddanth stood quietly near the door. He did not interfere. He simply watched, his hands clasped behind his back, giving them the space they needed.
Krithika pulled back from her mother. She turned to her father.
Subba Rao was standing stiffly, his arms crossed over his chest, trying desperately to hold back his tears. He failed. The tears spilled over his cheeks. He reached out and pulled Krithika into a tight hug.
"Do not cry," Subba Rao managed to say, his voice thick with emotion, rubbing his daughter's back. "You are going to a good home. Do not cry."
Krithika wiped her face, nodding against his shoulder.
Subba Rao let her go. He turned his head and looked directly at Siddanth standing near the doorway.
Subba Rao walked over to Siddanth. He reached out and grabbed Siddanth's forearms tightly.
"Take care of her," Subba Rao said, his voice cracking. "Please. Take good care of her."
Siddanth reached into his pocket, pulled out a clean white handkerchief, and handed it to Subba Rao.
"I will," Siddanth said, his voice calm. "She is safe. You have my word."
Vikram Deva and Sesikala, who had followed the couple into the manor, stepped forward.
Vikram Deva placed a hand on Subba Rao's shoulder. "Subba Rao garu. The distance between our houses is nothing. She is not leaving you. You can come and see her whenever you want. Our doors are always open to you."
"We will treat her as our daughter," Sesikala assured Suma, holding her hand. "Do not worry."
Siddanth stepped forward. He reached out and placed a gentle hand on Krithika's shoulder.
"We need to go," Siddanth said softly.
Krithika nodded. She wiped her eyes with the edge of her pallu. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. She turned away from her family and walked through the heavy wooden doors, stepping out of the Bride's manor for the final time.
Siddanth walked right beside her.
They walked across the gravel path and stepped up onto the wooden ratham. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, dark shadows across the Kakatiya village.
Subba Rao, Suma, and the rest of the family walked out of the manor, standing on the pathway, watching the chariot.
Siddanth looked down at Krithika. He reached out and gently wiped a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb.
The traditional Nadaswaram musicians had finished their duties for the day. Waiting at the front of the procession was a massive, sixty-piece Jalna brass band, brought in specifically for the final Baraat.
The bandmaster raised his baton. The sixty musicians raised their heavy brass trumpets, trombones, and massive snare drums. They launched simultaneously into a heavy, booming, high-energy beat that echoed across the entire Kakatiya set.
The handler cracked his whip lightly against the ground. The white horses leaned into their harnesses.
The heavy wooden wheels of the chariot groaned against the gravel.
The Baraat officially started, carrying Siddanth Deva and his wife away from her manor, marking the beginning of their new life.