Nisha slipped into the saree the old woman had given her, its soft fabric and simple design making her feel at home. As she adjusted the pleats, she glanced at the door where Nakul waited outside. When she was ready, Nakul stepped in to change, and she moved out into the quiet village night. The air was cool, the sounds of distant crickets the only disturbance in the otherwise tranquil setting. Nisha took a deep breath, savoring the peace that seemed to wrap around her.

Moments later, Nakul emerged from the room, dressed in simple village attire-a dhoti and a cotton towel draped over his shoulder. He gave her a gentle smile and motioned for her to join him inside. As he shut the door behind them, both cast an uneasy glance at the single wooden bed in the corner. Nisha sighed, about to suggest something, when Nakul spoke first, "Nisha, tum upar chopai par sojao. Main niche aram se sojaunga." ("Nisha, you take the bed. I'll sleep comfortably on the floor.")

Nisha chuckled, catching the trace of nervousness in his attempt to sound convincing. "Nahi nahi, Kumar. Aap so jaiye chopai par, main neeche so lungi. Aur waise bhi, dasiyon ke kamre mein toh main neeche hi soti thi." ("No, no, Kumar. You should take the bed, I'll sleep on the floor. Anyway, I always slept on the floor in the maidservants' quarters.")

Nakul's expression softened as he replied, "Agar aisi baat hai, priye, toh main bhi jab ashram mein tha, tab neeche hi sota tha. Main so lunga neeche. Tum sojao, jao." ("If that's the case, my dear, then I'll sleep on the floor as I did at the ashram. Go on, take the bed.")

Nisha blinked, giving him a puzzledlook before settling on the bed without another word. Nakul spread a mat on the floor, lying down with his gaze drifting towards her, a faint smile on his lips as sleep overtook them both.

Hours later, a faint sound stirred Nisha from her sleep. She heard low murmurs, a hint of commotion outside. Sitting up, she glanced around and noticed Nakul's mat, neatly folded, but he was nowhere in sight. Quickly tidying her bed, she stepped outside to investigate. In the courtyard, two tall, sturdily-built women were in a low but intense argument, one pulling at the other's braid. As soon as they saw Nisha, they straightened up and greeted her with folded hands, "Namaste, Devi."



Nisha returned their greeting with a nod. One of the women, her voice filled with a touch of awe, introduced herself, "Pranaam, Devi. Main Gopadevi hoon aur yeh Baldevi. Hum Panchal ke raste ja rahe the, par yahan aye toh pata chala ki Shiv-Parvati ke vivah ka pooja ho raha hai. Aur humein iss ghar mein rehne ko jagah milega, toh hum aa gaye. Kya aap iss ghar ki malkin hain?" ("Greetings, Devi. I am Gopadevi, and this is Baldevi. We were on our way to Panchal but heard there was a celebration here for Shiv-Parvati's wedding. We learned we could stay here, so we came. Are you the lady of this house?")

For a moment, Nisha looked at them in surprise. Something about them felt strangely familiar, though she couldn't imagine why-it was impossible; she didn't know anyone here.

Nisha shook her head and replied with a small smile, "Nahi, nahi. Main bhi yahan kal hi ayi hun-" ("No, no, I only arrived here yesterday-"). Before she could finish, the old lady appeared behind her, addressing the two tall women with a warm but curious look.

"Putriyon, tum ye dayeina wala kamra lelo. Wese tum log aye kahan se ho aur kab tak rahoge?" ("Daughters, take the room on the right. By the way, where have you come from, and how long will you stay?")

The woman introduced as Baldevi stepped forward and bowed her head in gratitude. "Dhanyawad, Dadi, humein sharan dene ke liye. Hum parso chale jayenge aur Vrindavan se arahe hain hum." ("Thank you, Dadi, for giving us shelter. We'll leave the day after tomorrow. We've come from Vrindavan.")

The old lady nodded approvingly and then turned to Nisha, giving her a gentle smile. "Beti, achhi neend ayi tumhe raat main ?" ("Did you sleep well last night, my dear?") Nisha nodded, and asked , "Dadi, wo mere pati kaha gaye-" ("Dadi, where has my husband gone-").

The old lady interrupted with a chuckle, "Achha, wo toh nadi ke paas gaye hain nahane. Shayad tum bhi nahake aao. Yeh ghar ke peeche ek snangrih hai, chota sa, wahan paani rakh diya hai. Tab tak main tumhare puja ke liye saree rakh deti hun." ("Oh, he's gone to bathe by the river. Perhaps you should wash up as well. There's a small bathing area behind the house where we've kept some water. I'll place a saree here for you for the puja.")

Nisha gave a grateful smile. "Dhanyawad, Dadi. Aapki madad hamesha yaad rakhungi." ("Thank you, Dadi. I will always remember your kindness.")

As Nisha prepared to make her way toward the bathing area, Gopadevi arrived, with Baldevi trailing close behind. Gopadevi grinned and asked with a friendly curiosity, "Achha, aap puja ke liye aayi hain? Konsi puja karwa rahi hain aap?" ("So, you've come for the puja? Which ceremony are you having?")

Caught off guard, Nisha glanced nervously at Dadi, unsure of how to answer. She decided to keep it simple. "Woh... main aur mere pati yahan... hum dono ki puja karne aye hain." ("We... my husband and I... have come to perform a ceremony for both of us.")

Dadi's eyes twinkled with excitement, and she clapped her hands together. "Oho, are wah, beta! Vyavahik jeevan ki sukh shanti keliye puja karne ke liye bade ache samay par aye ho! Kyunki yeh samay hi Shiv-Parvati ke vivah ka hai. Iss muhurat par Puja kar pana toh bhagya ki baat hai." ("Oh, my! You've come at the perfect time to do a Puja for making your marriage a successful one, as this is the season of Shiv-Parvati's union. It's a blessing to perform Puja at such a muhurat!")

Before Nisha could clarify, everyone became animated, chatting and bustling around in preparation. Gopadevi gave Nisha a playful nudge. "Jao, jaldi se nahake aao, Devi. Puja ke liye tayaar hona bhi zaroori hai" ("Go on, bathe quickly, Devi. You also have to get ready for the puja!")

Perplexed and slightly overwhelmed, Nisha was ushered toward the bathing area, wondering how she would explain this new development to Nakul.

As Nisha returned from her bath, draped in the modest saree provided by the old lady, she was surprised to see the elder waiting patiently in her room. Nisha entered, closing the door softly behind her, and reached for the beautiful red saree that the old woman had laid out. The saree was exquisite, embroidered with delicate patterns and woven with care-a piece that spoke of tradition and grace.

As Nisha began to put it on, the old lady stepped forward, insisting on helping her. Despite Nisha's initial resistance, the elder's insistence won out. With skilled hands, the old lady carefully adjusted each fold and drape, tucking in the pleats just right. She then brought out a set of traditional jewelry, placing a delicate necklace around Nisha's neck and slipping crimson glass bangles onto her wrists.

Before Nisha could even express her gratitude, Gopadevi and Baldevi entered the room, ready to join in the preparations with cheerful determination, as if this was a task they had come specifically for. Gopadevi took charge of braiding Nisha's hair, her fingers working swiftly and deftly, while Baldevi applied a small tika on Nisha's forehead and added a touch of kajal to her eyes.

As they worked, Nisha's mind drifted to Krishna, wondering if Rati had reached him, carrying her silent plea for strength and guidance. She felt a strange calm settle over her, as though her heart was tethered to an invisible thread leading back to Krishna, giving her reassurance in this unfamiliar situation.

Gopadevi caught Nisha's distant gaze and smiled knowingly, as if she understood every thought flitting through her mind. Finally, they stepped back, admiring their handiwork. The women exchanged approving glances, clearly proud of the transformation they had achieved.

Nisha looked into the small mirror they handed her and was struck by the reflection staring back. She hardly recognized herself-she looked graceful and elegant, embodying a beauty she had rarely noticed before in her warrior attire. Overwhelmed by their warmth and care, Nisha embraced each of them in turn, feeling a surge of gratitude for these women who had made her look, for a fleeting moment, like a bride.

The women returned her embrace warmly, as though sealing a quiet bond, pleased to have made her look truly radiant for the ceremony ahead.

As Nisha stepped out of the room, her gaze met Nakul's at the entrance, and he froze in place, eyes widening at the sight of her. She noticed the way he looked at her, almost spellbound, and felt a quiet thrill rise within her. After a brief moment, he moved toward her, each step deliberate, his expression a mix of awe and admiration. In his hand, he held a garland of fragrant white flowers meant for her hair. His gaze traveled from her face to the delicate drape of the red saree and back, as he murmured, "Tumhe mere pran lene ka yahi tarika mila, priye?" ("Is this the way you've chosen to steal my breath, my dear?")

Nisha chuckled, enjoying his reaction, and replied, "Aur ye apki prasnsa karne ka tarika hai, Kumar?" ("And this is your way of complimenting me, my prince?")

Nakul's smile widened as he gently rested his hands on her shoulders, guiding her to turn around. Carefully, he placed the gajra in her hair, adjusting it with reverence. Once done, he held his palms in front of her face in admiration, then drew his hand across his forehead as if taking her aarti, a silent gesture of respect and adoration.

Nisha's heart softened at his actions. Looking at him dressed in a simple white dhoti, she remarked with a shy smile, "Aap bhi bade sundar lag rahe hain" ("You, too, look very handsome"). Leaning closer to his ear, she added with a mischievous sparkle, "Aryavart ke sabse sundar Rajkumar" ("The most handsome prince of Aryavarta").

Nakul laughed softly, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. Her words clearly pleased him, filling him with a warmth that shone in his eyes. The intimacy of their exchange left them both momentarily speechless, each savoring the closeness and understanding between them.

Before they could say anything further, the old lady entered, carrying an aarti thali adorned with vermilion, sandalwood paste, and other offerings. Gopadevi and Baldevi followed closely, their faces alight with anticipation. Nisha introduced them to Nakul, and after a few cheerful exchanges, they all began walking toward the temple.

The festive air filled their steps with purpose, and a soft murmur of chants echoed in the distance. Together, Nisha and Nakul moved forward, surrounded by their newfound companions, their hearts both grounded and lifted by the devotion that infused the atmosphere.

Outside, the village was alive with excitement and a vibrant energy, as if it, too, sensed the presence of something divine. May be because of the presence of the devine himself.

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