The Hidden Chapters -18

 

The Grooms Arrive

As I stood, adjusting my pallu and pleats nervously, Sindhu stepped out and returned a few minutes later, transformed.

She wore a cream silk kurta and a gold-embroidered veshti, her long hair tied back tightly, a sandalwood tilak on her forehead. Around her neck, she wore a long groom’s garland, and she carried a folded yellow thread in her palm—mangalyam.

She looked at me with pride and desire in her eyes. “Today, you are mine. And I... am your man.”

Before I could respond, there was a soft knock at the door.

The parlour lady opened it, and Manoj stepped inside.

He, too, had come dressed in traditional groom’s attire—white shirt, veshti, sacred thread over his shoulder, and a confident, affectionate smile that made my heart flutter.

His eyes met mine, and he paused. “You’re... breathtaking.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks as both my grooms stood before me, and I, between them, trembling in the most beautiful way.

The Marriage Ritual

The parlour lady, now glowing with quiet joy, clapped her hands. “Alright, lovebirds. Let’s do this properly.”

She spread a simple silk mat on the floor and placed a small, decorated plate with turmeric, Kumkum, two Mangal sutras, and few flowers.

I was gently guided to sit in the middle.

First, Manoj stepped forward. He took one of the sacred yellow threads, touched it to his forehead, then leaned in, his hands steady.

He tied it around my neck slowly, the beads settling against my newly formed breasts.

“With this,” he whispered, “you are mine.”

The parlour lady helped tighten the knot, her eyes sparkling. And Sindhu adjusted the mangalya chain front and she ensured the locket fall exactly in the centre of the  two breasts.

Then, Sindhu , took the second mangalyam, her fingers brushing against my neck.

“This knot,” she said softly, “is for the soul. Not the body.”

She tied it gently, her breath warm against my skin. Two threads. Two promises. One heart.

The parlour lady placed a small vermillion dot on my forehead, right where the parting of my wig met the scalp.

“You’re their wife now, Bala.

Manoj and Sindhu each took one of my hands. I looked between them—my first groom, my second groom—and felt something in me settle. Something sacred. Something real. Both of them kissed me on cheeks.

I am no longer just Bala.

I am their Bala.

Their bride. I touched both their feet and took the blessings and then parlour lady took me to the small temple room and asked me to take blessings from gods as well.

The ceremony had ended, but the scent of sandalwood and jasmine lingered in the air like a memory that refused to fade..

Manoj and Sindhu walked on either side of me as we entered the quiet, lamp-lit room. A simple mattress had been laid out with care—fresh sheets, pillows fluffed, petals scattered like whispered blessings. A single oil lamp flickered in the corner, casting golden shadows that danced across the walls.

I stood for a moment in the doorway, unsure of what to do.