The sun finally dropped below the fiberglass walls of the Kakatiya set. The heavy, emotional weight of the farewell at the Bride's manor dissipated the moment the sixty-piece Jalna band began to play.
The bandmaster stood at the front of the procession. He raised his wooden baton and brought it down sharply.
Sixty brass instruments and heavy leather snare drums erupted simultaneously. The sound was deafening. It was not a classical, structured melody like the morning procession. It was a fast, heavy, booming mass beat designed entirely for the streets.
The handler holding the reins of the two white horses clicked his tongue. The horses leaned forward. The heavy wooden wheels of the ratham crunched against the gravel.
Siddanth and Krithika stood in the center of the chariot, holding onto the carved wooden railing. The Groom's manor was located two hundred meters down the main pathway. At a normal walking pace, the journey would take five minutes.
The chariot moved ten feet. Then, it stopped.
Virat Kohli and Sameer stepped directly into the center of the gravel path, completely blocking the horses. They raised their hands in the air and started jumping to the heavy drumbeat.
Shikhar Dhawan, Arjun, Feroz, Ravindra Jadeja, and other Indian teammates immediately rushed forward to join them.
"They have been waiting for this part all day," Krithika replied, watching everyone lose their minds on the gravel path.
The Indian cricket team did not hold back. Virat and Dhawan matched each other step for step, executing a highly aggressive, completely uncoordinated street dance. Sameer and Feroz jumped in circles around them. Jadeja pulled up his collar and did a quick shoulder shimmy.
The bandmaster saw the energy of the cricketers. He signaled the trumpet section. The tempo doubled.
The boys danced continuously for thirty minutes. The horses stood perfectly still. The handler rested his arms on the front of the chariot, looking bored. He knew they were not going anywhere soon.
"Move the chariot!" Vikram Deva yelled playfully from the sidelines, standing with the older relatives.
"The toll has not been paid!" Sameer shouted back over the music, wiping sweat from his forehead but not stopping his feet. "We dance until we drop!"
It took another fifteen minutes for the exhaustion to finally catch up to the athletes. Virat bent over, resting his hands on his knees, gasping for air. Dhawan staggered toward the side of the path, demanding water from the logistics staff.
The human wall broke. The handler clicked his tongue. The chariot rolled forward.
It moved twenty feet. It stopped again.
This time, the girls took over. Anjali, Riya, Priya, Kavya, and Sneha marched into the center of the path. The bandmaster immediately recognized the shift in demographics. He lowered his baton, instructing the heavy snare drums to stop. The brass section switched to a faster, more rhythmic, highly popular dance track.
The girls launched into a synchronized routine they had clearly practiced. They did not just jump around like the boys; they executed sharp, clean footwork.
But Anjali was not satisfied with just her friends. She stopped dancing and walked over to the side of the gravel path where the elders were standing and watching.
She walked directly up to Suma, Krithika's mother, and Sesikala, Siddanth's mother.
"No," Sesikala said immediately, raising her hand before Anjali even spoke. "I danced on the stage day before yesterday. I am not dancing on the gravel."
"Amma, please," Anjali insisted, grabbing Suma's hand first.
Suma tried to pull her hand back. "Anjali, look at my heavy saree. The stones will ruin the border."
"We will hold the border up!" Riya promised, running over to assist.
Anjali pulled Suma firmly into the center of the path in front of the chariot. Kavya and Sneha surrounded Sesikala. They did not give the groom's mother a choice. They gently but persistently pushed her forward until she was standing next to Suma.
The band played a traditional beat. Anjali clapped her hands, setting the rhythm.
Sesikala sighed heavily. She looked up at Siddanth standing on the chariot. Siddanth offered her an amused smile. Sesikala shook her head, picked up the edge of her silk saree to keep it off the dirt, and started moving her feet.
Suma joined her. The two mothers, who had just spent the last hour crying through the emotional Appaginthalu and farewell ceremonies, were now laughing and stepping side-to-side in front of a sixty-piece brass band. The younger girls danced in a circle around them, cheering loudly.
They danced for twenty minutes.
"We are done," Sesikala declared, grabbing Suma's arm and walking firmly off the path, refusing to let the girls keep them there any longer.
The chariot moved another thirty feet. They were now roughly halfway to the Groom's manor. It had been two hours since they left the Bride's house.
Krithika reached up and unhooked her heavy gold earrings, placing them carefully into a small silk pouch she carried. The weight of the jewelry was giving her a headache.
Rahul, walking alongside the chariot, handed Siddanth two bottles of cold water. Siddanth opened one, handed it to Krithika, and drank the other.
The chariot stopped for the third time.
Sameer had recovered his breath. He was refreshed after having a drink, wiped his face with a towel, and walked back into the center of the path. He looked around.
"Fathers!" Sameer pointed at Vikram Deva and Subba Rao. "Report to the dance floor!"
Subba Rao's eyes went wide. He immediately turned around and tried to walk away, blending into the crowd of distant relatives standing near the manicured lawns.
Sameer saw him retreating. He sprinted after Krithika's father. Sameer caught Subba Rao by the arm just as he reached the edge of the grass.
"Uncle, where are you going?" Sameer asked innocently, blocking his escape route.
"I have a phone call to make," Subba Rao lied smoothly, patting his empty pocket.
"You do not have your phone," Sameer pointed out. "Come to the center. Vikram uncle is already there."
It was true. Vikram Deva had not tried to run. He had willingly walked into the center of the path.
Sameer dragged Subba Rao back to the front of the chariot.
The bandmaster dropped a heavy track.
Vikram Deva surprised the entire crowd. He did not just shuffle awkwardly. He actually hit the beat perfectly, dropping his shoulders and executing a surprisingly smooth dance step.
Siddanth leaned over the wooden railing; he had a smile on his face.
Subba Rao, trapped next to him, looked miserable. He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right foot, clapping his hands off-beat. Sameer stood right next to him, forcing him to keep moving by continuously cheering him on.
"Keep the knees bent, Uncle!" Sameer yelled over the brass instruments.
Subba Rao glared at Sameer but bent his knees slightly, attempting a highly awkward side-step.
The fathers danced until Vikram Deva tapped his watch, signaling they needed a break.
The chariot rolled forward. Another forty feet. It was now approaching the three-hour mark.
Siddanth sat down on the small wooden bench built into the back of the chariot. He stretched his long legs out. Krithika sat down next to him, kicking her heavy heels off and resting her bare feet on the wooden floorboards.
"We are never going to reach your house," Krithika stated pragmatically, leaning her head against the wooden siding.
"We will reach it eventually," Siddanth replied, watching the crowd. "They will eventually run out of people to drag onto the path."
Siddanth vastly underestimated Sameer and Virat's commitment to the Baraat.
The chariot stopped again.
Virat Kohli looked toward the VIP section, where the retired legends were standing and chatting quietly, observing the chaos from a safe distance.
"Paaji," Virat announced loudly, walking toward them.
Sachin Tendulkar smiled, shaking his head. "We already danced at the Sangeet, Virat. We are retired."
"There is no retirement from the Baraat, paji," Virat insisted, taking Sachin's arm and pulling him forward.
Jadeja walked directly up to Rahul Dravid.
"Jaddu, do not even try," Dravid warned him, crossing his arms over his chest and planting his feet firmly into the gravel. "I am not doing a street dance. I do not know how."
"I will teach you, Rahul bhai," Jadeja promised, grabbing Dravid's wrist and literally pulling the former captain onto the gravel path with all his body weight.
Ravi Shastri did not need an invitation. He laughed loudly, adjusted his silk kurta, and walked onto the path voluntarily. M.S. Dhoni was flanked by Dhawan and Ashwin, who physically escorted him to the front of the chariot.
The bandmaster saw the gathering of Indian cricketers. He unleashed the heaviest, loudest, most chaotic mass beat in his entire repertoire.
Sachin clapped his hands, doing a polite, rhythmic step. Ravi Shastri threw his hands in the air, spinning in a circle and genuinely enjoying the loud music. Dhoni stood in the center, swaying slightly, smiling at the chaos around him.
Dravid looked completely terrified.
The loud brass instruments and the heavy snare drums offered no clear rhythm that Dravid could understand. He looked at Jadeja, who was jumping up and down wildly. Dravid tried to copy him.
Siddanth saw the footwork from the chariot. He threw his head back and laughed loudly.
Virat saw it too. "Rahul bhai! You are dancing, not blocking a spin bowler!"
Dravid stopped, looking highly embarrassed, but he couldn't help laughing himself. He abandoned the footwork entirely and just stood next to Sachin, clapping his hands to the beat until the song finished.
The legends retreated. The chariot moved.
For the next two hours, the cycle repeated relentlessly. Uncles from Karimnagar were dragged into the path. Aunts from Hyderabad were forced to dance. The staff, the NEXUS executives who had been invited, and even the camera crew were pulled into the center for at least one song.
The two-hundred-meter journey became a marathon of endurance.
Finally, the white horses pulled the heavy wooden chariot to a halt. The wheels stopped turning.
They were parked directly in front of the heavy teakwood doors of the Groom's manor.
It was past 10:00 PM. The five-minute walk had taken exactly five hours.
The bandmaster signaled his musicians. They stopped playing. The sudden silence in the Kakatiya set was ringing in everyone's ears. The guests were completely exhausted, sweating through their silk clothes, leaning against the stone walls of the manor.
"We made it," Krithika sighed, putting her heels back on and standing up on the chariot.
"Not yet," Sameer's voice croaked from the ground. His throat was completely hoarse from five hours of screaming over the brass band.
Sameer and Arjun stood at the bottom of the chariot stairs. They placed their hands on their hips.
"The Groom and the Bride have not danced," Arjun pointed out, panting slightly.
"You did not let us off the chariot," Siddanth reasoned, stepping down the stairs. He turned and offered his hand to Krithika, helping her down the steep wooden steps.
"We are letting you off now," Sameer said, stepping back. "One song. Otherwise, we block the front door."
Siddanth knew they were entirely serious. He looked at Krithika. She nodded tiredly.
The bandmaster raised his baton for the final time that night.
Siddanth took Krithika's hand. They simply swayed together, stepping lightly side-to-side on the gravel, dancing lightly.
After three minutes, Siddanth raised his hand to the bandmaster. The music stopped permanently.
"Satisfied?" Siddanth asked Sameer.
"Acceptable," Sameer rasped, stepping aside from the front door.
Siddanth and Krithika walked up the two short stone steps leading to the heavy teakwood double doors of the Groom's manor.
The doors were closed. Standing in front of the threshold was Swathi, Siddanth's older cousin. She was holding a wide brass plate. Sitting on the plate were several small balls of white camphor, burning brightly, casting a warm orange glow against the dark wood of the door.
"Stop right there," Swathi commanded, holding the plate up.
Siddanth and Krithika stopped.
Swathi moved the brass plate in a wide, slow, clockwise circle in front of them. She repeated the motion three times. This was the final Aarti, designed to ward off any evil eye or negative energy they might have picked up during the massive public procession.
Once the Aarti was complete, Swathi did not step aside. She set the brass plate down on a small table near the door and crossed her arms.
"Who are you?" Swathi asked, looking directly at Krithika.
This was the traditional threshold game. The bride had to formally announce her new status before being allowed inside her new home.
Krithika smiled. She knew the rules.
"Me and my husband have come," Krithika replied politely.
Swathi shook her head, looking highly unimpressed. "What? 'Me and my husband'? Don't you both have names? Say them."
Krithika took a breath. "I, Krithika, came with my husband, Siddanth Deva."
Swathi leaned forward, cupping her hand around her ear dramatically. "What? I couldn't hear you. The brass band damaged my hearing."
Krithika raised her voice slightly. "I, Krithika, came with my husband, Siddanth Deva!"
Swathi turned her head. She looked at the massive crowd of tired cricketers and relatives standing behind the couple.
"Did anyone in the back hear her?" Swathi yelled to the crowd.
"Didn't hear a single word!" Virat Kohli shouted back instantly, highly invested in the game.
"She is whispering!" Sameer croaked.
Krithika sighed. She squared her shoulders. She looked directly at her new cousin-in-law, and she yelled at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing sharply against the fiberglass walls of the Kakatiya set.
"I, KRITHIKA, CAME HERE WITH MY HUSBAND, SIDDANTH DEVA!"
The crowd erupted into loud cheers and applause.
"Very good," Swathi nodded approvingly. She then turned her sharp gaze to Siddanth. "And who are you?"
Siddanth did not play around. He did not offer a quiet first attempt. He knew the crowd would not accept it. He took a deep breath, filling his massive chest.
"I, SIDDANTH DEVA, HAVE COME HOME WITH MY WIFE, KRITHIKA!" Siddanth roared. His deep, powerful voice completely drowned out the residual noise of the crowd, echoing down the entire pathway.
Sameer hit the siren button on his plastic megaphone. The family clapped loudly.
"Excellent," Swathi smiled, stepping aside and pulling one of the heavy teakwood doors open. "Welcome home. Place your right leg inside first."
Siddanth and Krithika stepped forward simultaneously. They lifted their right feet and placed them over the wooden threshold, stepping into the cool, air-conditioned interior of the Groom's manor.
They walked directly past the living room and into the designated pooja space built into the far wall. The head priest was waiting there.
They folded their hands, bowed their heads, and took one final, quiet blessing from the idols to mark the successful completion of the wedding day.
Outside the manor, the crowd completely dispersed. The five hours of relentless dancing had broken their physical limits. The guests did not even go to the dining halls; they walked straight to their respective manors and collapsed into their beds. The Kakatiya village plunged into silence within ten minutes.
Inside the Groom's manor, Siddanth and Krithika walked into the master suite.
The Staff had set up a small, round table in the corner of the room. On the table were two silver plates covered with brass cloches.
They were finally alone.
Krithika kicked her heels off for the second time that night. She walked over to the small table and sat down heavily in one of the plush chairs. She didn't bother changing out of her saree yet. She just reached over and lifted the brass cloche, exposing the hot, fragrant food.
Siddanth took his shoes off. He walked over and sat down opposite her.
They did not speak. They were completely, entirely drained. They ate the food in comfortable silence, processing the magnitude of the day. The rituals, the vows, the mock arguments, the five-hour Baraat, the noise, the crowds, the cameras—it was all finally over.
Siddanth finished his rice. He set his spoon down. He looked across the small table at Krithika.
She was looking down at her plate, pushing a piece of eggplant around with her fingers. She looked up at him, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, but the small, genuine smile returned to her face.
They had crossed the threshold. The public spectacle was finished.
They drank the warm milk, stood up from the table, and finally, after the longest day of their lives, went to sleep.