The curtains of the master suite inside the Groom's manor blocked out the early morning sunlight completely. The room was cool, quiet, and pitch black.
At 6:00 AM, three sharp, distinct knocks echoed against the heavy teakwood door.
"Siddu."
Sesikala's voice came from the hallway, muffled but firm.
"Krithika. Get up. The priest has arrived. He is setting up the Mandapam."
Inside the room, Krithika shifted under the thick duvet. Her brain was completely foggy from the exhaustion of the previous day. She reached her right arm out, blindly searching the nightstand for her phone to check the time.
Her hand did not hit the wooden nightstand. Her hand hit a completely solid, unyielding wall of muscle.
Krithika gasped slightly, her eyes flying open in the pitch black. She pulled her hand back instantly, her heart spiking in momentary panic. It took her three seconds of staring into the darkness to process her surroundings, the heavy scent of the jasmine flowers still lingering in the room, and the events of the last twenty-four hours.
She turned her head on the pillow.
Siddanth was lying next to her. He was already awake. The faint ambient light from the digital clock on his side of the bed illuminated his face. He was resting his hands behind his head, looking at the ceiling.
He turned his head and looked at her.
"You kick in your sleep," Siddanth stated, his voice completely deadpan, carrying the slight rasp of morning sleep.
"I do not," Krithika argued instantly.
"You kicked me in the left shin exactly forty-five minutes ago," Siddanth corrected her, citing the precise timeline. "Then you tried to steal the duvet. Then you threw a punch at my chest just now."
"I was looking for my phone," Krithika defended herself, rubbing her eyes. She let out a long breath, a small smile breaking across her face despite the fatigue. She looked at him. "We are actually married."
Siddanth looked back at her. He smiled and said. "We are."
"Siddu!" Sesikala knocked on the door again, louder this time. "Do not go back to sleep! The Muhurtham for the pooja is strict!"
"We are awake, Amma!" Siddanth called out loudly.
He threw the duvet back and stood up. He walked over to the heavy curtains and pulled them open, flooding the master suite with bright morning light.
Krithika squinted against the sudden glare. She sat up slowly. Her shoulders ached from carrying the heavy gold jewelry the previous day.
"I need coffee," Krithika announced, pushing herself off the mattress.
"Pooja first," Siddanth reminded her, walking toward the bathroom. "Then coffee."
They took quick, cold showers to wake themselves up. Siddanth wore a simple, clean white cotton kurta and pancha. Krithika wore a light, comfortable yellow cotton saree with a minimal gold border.
They walked out of the master suite and down the hallway of the Groom's manor.
The head priest was waiting for them in the central, open-roofed courtyard. He was sitting on a wooden plank, organizing several brass items on a silver tray.
Vikram Deva and Sesikala were already sitting on their respective mats, waiting patiently.
"Come, sit down," the priest instructed as Siddanth and Krithika approached.
They sat down on the wooden peetas placed directly in front of the priest.
"We must formally conclude the vows of the wedding day," the priest announced. He reached forward.
During the Snathakam and the Gauri Pooja the previous morning, the priest had tied thick, yellow turmeric-soaked cotton threads around their wrists. These threads, known as the Kankanam, served as physical representations of their strict religious fasting and the sacred vows they had taken.
The priest took a small pair of scissors. He carefully cut the yellow thread around Siddanth's right wrist. He then moved over and cut the yellow thread around Krithika's left wrist.
"The Vratam is released," the priest declared, placing the cut threads onto the silver tray. "The strict restrictions of the wedding Muhurtham are lifted. You are now officially entering the Grihastha ashram, the daily life of a householder."
Siddanth rubbed his wrist, glad to have the tight thread removed. Krithika did the same.
"Now," the priest continued, gesturing to a small wooden mandapam structure he had erected in the center of the courtyard. Inside the structure was a framed picture of Lord Vishnu and Goddess Lakshmi. "We will perform the Satyanarayana Swamy Vratham."
This was the mandatory first prayer of a newly married couple in their new home. It was dedicated to Lord Vishnu, seeking his blessings for truth, prosperity, and a long, stable life together.
"Vikram Deva garu, Sesikala amma, please join them," the priest requested.
Siddanth's parents moved their mats forward, sitting directly beside their son and new daughter-in-law. The four of them sat in a tight row facing the altar.
The priest handed Siddanth a silver pot of holy water.
"Perform the Achamanam," the priest instructed.
Siddanth poured three drops of water into his own right hand, sipped it, and repeated the purification mantra. Krithika, Vikram, and Sesikala did the exact same.
"The Satyanarayana Vratham is divided into five specific chapters, known as the Katha," the priest explained over the quiet morning air. "Each chapter tells a story emphasizing the importance of truth and devotion. As I read the chapters, you will offer flowers and turmeric rice to the Lord."
For the next two hours, the courtyard was filled exclusively with the rhythmic, deep chanting of the priest.
Siddanth sat perfectly still, his legs crossed, listening to the Sanskrit and Telugu narratives. Every few minutes, at the priest's signal, Siddanth would pick up a fresh jasmine flower and place it at the base of the framed picture. Krithika sat beside him, mirroring his actions exactly.
The ritual was incredibly peaceful. The morning sun slowly warmed the stone floors of the courtyard.
As the priest concluded the fifth chapter, he struck a match and lit a block of camphor on a brass aarti plate.
"Stand up," the priest instructed the family.
Siddanth, Krithika, Vikram, and Sesikala stood. The priest waved the burning camphor in a wide circle in front of the altar, ringing a small brass bell rapidly with his left hand.
The four of them folded their hands in a final prayer, bowing their heads respectfully.
"The Vratham is successfully completed," the priest announced, extinguishing the flame.
An assistant priest walked forward carrying a large silver bowl. Inside the bowl was the Prasadam—a thick, incredibly sweet, warm halwa made from roasted wheat semolina, sugar, cow's ghee, mashed bananas, and cardamom.
The priest scooped a generous portion of the warm halwa into Krithika's right hand. He then scooped a portion into Siddanth's hand.
They ate the sweet offering in silence.
Sesikala stood up, adjusting her saree. She looked incredibly relieved that the core religious obligations were finally over.
"Alright," Sesikala said, taking a deep breath. "The poojas are done. Siddanth, take Krithika to the dining hall and eat breakfast."
Siddanth and Krithika walked out of the Groom's manor.
They stepped onto the main gravel pathway. The Kakatiya set was fully awake now. The catering staff was pushing metal carts loaded with fresh breakfast supplies toward the massive dining pavilions. The floral decorators were already on ladders, actively stripping the yellow marigolds and replacing them with deep red roses and white orchids for the evening reception.
Krithika stopped walking suddenly.
Siddanth stopped and looked back at her. "What?"
"Give me your hands," Krithika demanded, holding her own hands out.
Siddanth looked confused. He held his large hands out, palms facing up.
During the Snathakam and Mehendi rituals, his aunts had applied small, thick caps of wet gorintaku (freshly ground henna leaves) directly onto the tips of his fingers and thumbs, as well as a small circle in the center of his palm, to cool his body heat. Krithika had full, intricate gorintaku designs covering her entire hand upto elbows.
Krithika grabbed his large hands. She placed her own palms directly next to his, holding them up to the bright morning sunlight.
She stared intently at the color of the stains left by the leaves.
"Mine is darker," Krithika announced triumphantly.
Siddanth looked at their hands. The stain on Krithika's palms was a deep, rich, almost black-red maroon. The stain on Siddanth's fingertips and palm was a bright, slightly lighter orange-red.
"What does that mean?" Siddanth asked, pulling his hands back slowly.
Krithika smirked. She looked at him with an expression of superiority.
"It is a very well-known tradition," Krithika explained, adopting a scholarly tone. "The darkness of the gorintaku stain directly corresponds to how much your spouse loves you. My stain is significantly darker. Therefore, it is a scientifically proven fact that I love you more than you love me."
Siddanth stared at her. He looked down at his own orange-stained fingertips, then back up at her highly smug face.
"That is a severe flaw in logic," Siddanth countered smoothly, refusing to concede defeat to a superstition. "You left the paste on your hands overnight. I washed mine off after two hours. The duration of application directly affects the oxidation of the dye on the skin."
"Excuses," Krithika dismissed his logic with a wave of her hand. "The leaves do not lie. You love me more. Just accept the data."
Siddanth shook his head, a genuine laugh escaping him. "You are twisting the variables to fit your narrative."
"I am accepting the traditional results," Krithika smiled brightly, turning and walking toward the dining pavilion with a victorious bounce in her step.
Siddanth followed her, shaking his head at her.
They entered the pavilion.
The setup from the previous day's wedding feast had been completely cleared. The long wooden tables had been replaced with smaller, circular tables covered in crisp white linen tablecloths. Several massive live cooking stations lined the far wall, manned by chefs in tall white hats.
Siddanth and Krithika walked toward the far corner of the pavilion.
Sitting around a large circular table were Virat Kohli, Shikhar Dhawan, Sameer, Arjun, and Ravindra Jadeja.
Siddanth paused halfway across the room. He observed his friends carefully.
None of them were talking loudly. Virat was slumped heavily in his chair, staring blankly at a cup of black coffee. Dhawan was massaging his right thigh with a battery-powered, vibrating massage gun. Sameer had his head resting flat on the table, completely immobile.
Siddanth and Krithika walked up and pulled out two empty chairs.
"Good morning," Siddanth said loudly, his voice echoing over the table.
Sameer groaned loudly without lifting his head from the tablecloth. "Do not yell. My eardrums are still vibrating from that brass band."
"My hamstrings are destroyed," Dhawan complained, adjusting the speed of the massage gun on his thigh. The device buzzed loudly against the table. "I tried to get out of bed this morning. My legs literally collapsed. I had to crawl to the bathroom."
"I blame Sameer," Jadeja stated flatly, taking a slow bite of a dosa. "He is the one who kept stopping the chariot. He dragged the fathers into the street."
"I provided entertainment," Sameer's muffled voice came from the table. "It was a Baraat. It requires energy."
Arjun then said. "I saw Rahul Dravid this morning. He was limping slightly. Jaddu, you are in trouble"
"I didn't injure him," Jadeja argued weakly, finally lifting his head. "He just doesn't know how to bend his knees."
Krithika laughed, picking up a cup of hot filter coffee. "You guys carried the bamboo basket flawlessly, but a few folk songs took you down."
"The basket was not that heavy, Krithika," Virat corrected her, rubbing his lower back. "But the dance was a marathon. That bandmaster is a sadist. He did not give us a single break between songs. I am suing the Jalna band for physical assault."
Siddanth's plate arrived. It was piled high with six steaming hot, fluffy white idlis, a bowl of hot sambar, and three different types of coconut and peanut chutneys.
He picked up a spoon and started eating.
"Look at him," Dhawan said to Virat, gesturing at Siddanth with the massage gun. "He looks completely fresh. He just got married yesterday, and he is eating breakfast like he is preparing to bowl thirty overs."
"He doesn't feel pain," Virat agreed, taking a sip of his black coffee.
Rahul, Siddanth's executive assistant, walked into the dining pavilion. He spotted the table and walked over quickly, his encrypted tablet held firmly in his left hand.
"Boss," Rahul said, stopping slightly behind Siddanth's chair.
"Go ahead, Rahul," Siddanth said, taking a bite of an idli.
"The reception logistics are fully underway," Rahul reported efficiently, completely ignoring the groaning cricketers at the table. "The decorators have cleared the Mandapam. The central stage has been expanded by exactly twenty feet on each side to accommodate the larger photo lines tonight."
"Good," Siddanth nodded.
"What about the kitchens?" Siddanth asked, putting his spoon down.
"Ustad Raheem and Mallesh have already lit the fires," Rahul stated, his tone shifting to culinary logistics. "As per your explicit instructions, fifty separate tamarind-wood fires have been established in the outer perimeter fields. The commercial gas stoves are only being used for the vegetarian side dishes. All the heavy mutton curries, the Haleem, and the country chicken roasts are currently slow-cooking over the wood fires."
"Excellent," Siddanth said, highly satisfied with the authenticity.
"However, we have a slight logistical issue with the 2:00 AM Maggi cart," Rahul noted, adjusting his glasses.
Sameer sat up straight immediately, suddenly wide awake. "What issue? Do not touch the Maggi cart. It is the only thing keeping me alive."
"The supplier only delivered five hundred packets of the specific instant noodles," Rahul explained. "Given the current physical state of the younger guests, we project a heavy demand spike after midnight. I have dispatched a team to purchase another thousand packets from the local wholesale distributors to prevent a shortage."
"Good call, Rahul," Arjun nodded in serious approval. "Do not risk a riot."
"Understood," Rahul said. He looked back at Siddanth. "You both need to be ready by 6:00 PM for the early VIP arrivals."
"We will be ready," Siddanth confirmed.
Rahul nodded respectfully and walked away, heading rapidly toward the kitchen area to supervise the wood fires.
Siddanth finished his breakfast. He drank a glass of water and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
He looked at his friends. Virat was still rubbing his calves. Dhawan was staring blankly into space. Sameer had dropped his head back onto the tablecloth.
"I am going to check the reception stage," Siddanth announced, standing up from his chair.
Krithika stood up beside him.
"Have fun," Virat mumbled tiredly, not looking up. "I am going back to my room to sleep until 5:00 PM. Do not knock on my door unless the building is on fire."
"Or if the Maggi arrives," Sameer corrected from the table.
Siddanth and Krithika walked out of the dining pavilion together, leaving the broken athletes behind.
They walked back onto the main gravel pathway. The transformation of the Kakatiya set was startling.
Dozens of workers were rolling out thick, heavy red carpets across the entire stone courtyard. Towering arrays of modern lighting rigs were being erected behind the stone pillars, ready to bathe the venue in cinematic, dramatic colors. The smell of burning tamarind wood and roasting spices drifted over from the outer fields, signaling the massive feast that was currently underway.
Siddanth looked at the massive scale of the preparations. He looked at the hundreds of workers scrambling to execute his exact blueprints.
He felt a hand slide quietly into his.
He looked down. Krithika had interlocked her fingers with his. Her dark red gorintaku fingertips rested against his hand.
"Are you ready for round two?" Krithika asked softly, looking up at him as they walked toward the center of the courtyard.
Siddanth squeezed her hand gently.
"I am ready," Siddanth replied, his voice calm and certain. "Let's finish this."