Chapter-8

Chapter-8

The late afternoon sun bathed the mansion in warm hues as the village jeweler, Hari Kaka, carefully arranged Ananya’s wedding jewelry in front of Leela. The staff gathered around, their eyes gleaming with admiration as each piece was displayed—gold necklaces, bangles, and earrings embedded with precious stones, all polished to perfection.

Leela examined the jewelry with a practiced eye, ensuring everything was in order. Satisfied, she nodded, and the jeweler began to pack up, his work done.

As he stepped outside the mansion, preparing to leave, a soft voice called out to him.

"Hari Kaka."

He turned to find Krishna standing there, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against her earlobe. The moment he saw her expression, his heart sank. He already knew why she had stopped him.

Krishna hesitated before slowly removing the small, delicate gold earrings she wore—the last piece of her mother’s jewelry, the final nishani she had of Deepa.

Hari Kaka’s expression was clouded with sorrow. “Krishna bitiya… are you sure?” His voice carried the weight of old memories. He had watched this girl grow up, seeing her sell every piece of her mother’s jewelry bit by bit to survive. Now, these earrings were all she had left.

Krishna swallowed hard but kept her gaze steady. “I have no choice, Kaka. I need money for Mohan’s school fees.”

Hari Kaka sighed deeply, looking at the earrings in his palm. He weighed them thoughtfully, then shook his head. “These are worth more, but I can give you fifteen thousand now.”

Krishna nodded. “That’s fine.”

As the money was placed into her hands, a single tear, unknown to her, fell onto the notes.

Hari Kaka hesitated. “Bitiya… think about this one more time.”

Krishna forced a small smile. “I have thought about it, Kaka.”

With a final, sorrowful look, Hari Kaka walked away. Krishna remained standing there, unmoving, when the realization struck her. She had lost it—the last piece of her mother. Her legs felt weak, and a sharp, aching weight settled in her chest.

Her lips quivered as she whispered, “Sorry, Ma…” The words barely left her mouth, but they echoed in her ears.

“Krishna?” Leela, who was passing by, called out softly.

Krishna didn’t respond. She stood there, trembling slightly, her lips still moving as she muttered, “Sorry, Ma… I’m so sorry…”

“Krishna beta?” Leela shook Krishna’s shoulder, but there was no reaction. Still no response. Without another thought, Leela pulled Krishna into a tight hug.

Krishna stiffened for a moment. Then, against her will, against everything she had trained herself to believe, she let herself lean into the warmth. It had been so long since someone had held her like this. Since her mother.

Leela cupped Krishna’s face, scanning her eyes. “Come with me.”

********

Inside Leela's room, Krishna was made to sit on the bed. No questions were asked, and no unnecessary words were spoken. Leela simply knew what was needed.

She ran a hand over Krishna's head, her voice firm yet gentle. "You haven't slept, have you?"

Krishna smiled weakly. "Ma'am, I’m fine, really. There’s work to be done."

Leela scoffed. "No work right now. You need sleep."

"But—"

Leela didn’t let her finish. With gentle yet firm hands, she pulled Krishna onto her lap.

Krishna stiffened, her breath catching. "Leela Ma'am—"

"Shhh," Leela murmured, stroking Krishna’s hair. "I don't know what happened, and I won't ask. In return, just close your eyes for a bit."

Krishna swallowed hard. She hadn’t rested her head on anyone’s lap in years; she hadn’t allowed herself to be that vulnerable.

But now, as Leela's fingers moved through her hair and a soft humming filled the air, Krishna felt something deep inside her shatter. For the first time in a long time, she let herself rest.

Like a child, she melted into the warmth of Leela’s lap. Within moments, she was asleep.

*****

Ketan, Aryaman's secretary, finally arrived in Dwaraka.

"Ketan! My brother's first love!" Ansh exclaimed as he warmly hugged Ketan, who hesitated and returned in an awkward half‑hug. Aryaman approached from behind, his lips curved, board‑meeting polite, only slightly reaching his eyes. He offered a small greeting, ignoring his brother, "Is everything well?"

Ananya rolled her eyes during a phone call, clearly annoyed with Ansh. Ansh, ever the dramatic one, continued, "Bro! What kind of sad welcome is that for your true love? He’s the one who managed the embers in Delhi after YOU put out the fires. You should be a little warmer towards him, or else Sid might try to steal him away."

Sid, accustomed to the antics of the younger Mehta, just smiled and replied sarcastically, "Aryaman wouldn’t even let me come within six meters of his right-hand man. Forget about stealing something from him... Aryaman is busy conquering things that weren’t meant for him."

Aryaman let out a saccharine, pointed laugh. "Sour grapes, Sid?"

Both men smiled at each other, their expressions dripping with sarcasm. Ketan shot Ansh an accusing look that clearly said, "You started this." Ansh merely chuckled and shrugged.

Ketan was familiar with the verbal sparring between Siddharth Sethi and Aryaman Mehta, though he never particularly enjoyed it. Before Sid could further the polite yet poisonous debate, Ketan cleared his throat.

"Sir, Leela Ma'am has asked me to bring the traditional Mehta Odhni for the bride, which means Ananya Ma'am," Ketan announced.

He presented the odhni to Aryaman, carefully wrapped in a pooja plate adorned with sandalwood, rose petals, and vermilion. This served as a blessing meant for his soon-to-be wife, Ananya. Aryaman's mother wanted to offer it to the temple, wishing for her bahu (daughter-in-law) to wear it on the wedding day.

"A little gaudy, don't you think?" Ananya remarked, peeking over Aryaman's shoulder.

"Fortunately for me, YOU are the one who’s going to wear it," Aryaman teased back.

"Actually, nope... Bro, my sources say that she has refused to wear it," Ansh chimed in with the air of a news reporter. Aryaman and Sid both raised their eyebrows, questioning Pia (the obvious source) and then turning to Ananya.

"Ahh! Why is your mom so old-fashioned?" Ananya groaned. "A red odhni at a wedding is so cliché! I just can’t do injustice to my bridal look."

Aryaman exhaled, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. He could already see his mom and Ananya clashing over every little thing. Just recently, they had differing opinions about the lehenga for the sangeet night. He decided that he would never interfere; that was going to be his strategy for the rest of his life.

"Good luck, future me," He mentally eye-rolled.

He ignored Ananaya's remarks and went towards his mother's room with Ketan behind him. They discussed the Delhi workers' union deal as they walked.

After Aryaman entered his mother’s room, he noticed his mother was not alone. Someone was with her.

His grip on the odhni slackened.

His breath caught.

Krishna… asleep.

On his mother’s lap.

Leela, too, had drifted off, her hand still resting in Krishna’s hair, as if frozen mid-pat. The golden light filtering through the curtains wrapped them in quiet warmth.

An unknown sensation twisted deep within Aryaman, coiling like a serpent and tightening its grip on his chest.

Everything else—the wedding, his responsibilities, his work—faded.

Only her in focus.

She looked… different. Serene. Vulnerable. Beautiful in a way that unsettled him.

He just kept moving forward, pulled towards her.

Pain shot up his foot.

A sharp curse nearly escaped as his toe slammed into the wooden table.

The pooja plate slipped from his grasp.

The odhni floated into the air and landed softly over Krishna.

A sharp clang echoed as the plate hit the ground, waking up both women.

Krishna’s eyes widened as she quickly sat up, confused.

Her heart pounded when she saw Aryaman standing there, looking strangely out of breath, his expression unreadable.

She panicked.

Had she been caught sleeping on duty? Had he been waiting for her to wake up? Was he angry?

She hurriedly stood up, bowing slightly in apology. “I-I’m so sorry, Aryaman-sir! I shouldn’t have slept during work hours. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Aryaman blinked. Two things hit him at once. First, His toe still hurt like hell and second, Krishna was still draped in the odhni, but looked as if she hadn’t even noticed. She probably must have thought it was just a shawl Leela had placed over her.

Leela, had noticed. Her gaze was fixed on the odhni around Krishna’s head, the moment she opened her eyes. A thought flickered in her mind.

Aryaman finally cleared his throat and nodded. What was he supposed to say? He let his breath out through his mouth, regaining his composure.

Krishna sighed in relief. “Thank you, sir.”

Without looking at the odhni again, she hurriedly removed it, folded it neatly, and placed it on the table.

"This shawl..." Krishna started as she noticed the intricate patterns. Suf embroidery. The silk wool mixed fabric. It didn't feel like a regular shawl.

Leela shook her head to clear herself from the trance and smiled.

"It is not a shawl ... beta. It is the bridal Odhni worn by every Mehta bahu. I think it is over 100 years old?"

"But it..."

"Yep, Mashru Silk with a wool base. Must have been really costly during that time... After all, it was so rare...The embroidery looks too meticulous.. right?"

Krishna nodded her head. She looked again at the odhni, golden threads forming parrots and mangoes, elephants. Yes, it looked too brilliant. Leela continued.

"It is said that the great-grandmother who first wore this was saved from a fire in the mandap. And that is why it was considered too pious and lucky. All Mehta brides have to drape it on their wedding. It is now a tradition and a heritage."

Aryaman and Ketan quietly slipped out, Leela’s voice fading into more old stories behind them. For a few seconds, Aryaman's mind hovered on the image, Krishna with the odhni, but Ketan asked him about the changes in the guest list, and the guest list clawed its way back to the front of his mind, crushing the image before it could linger.