This year special moments are going to be even more special.
We will be presenting them in a special way. That is right.
We are presenting the special moments in the form of illustrated stories which were part of "A Picture Speaks A Thousand Words" Contest
ENTRY 1
Special Moment: Tere Meri Dance sequence
Team Members: Pixiepixel11 (W) and PriyaArshiSarun (G)
“The Space Between Us”
The storm outside matched the one brewing inside. Rain lashed the glass panes of Shantivan’s sprawling hall, but the weather wasn’t what had brought the family gathering to an abrupt hush.
It was him.
Arnav Singh Raizada had returned.
After three weeks of unexplained absence — no calls, no messages — Arnav had walked through the main door without a word, eyes scanning for one face. Hers.
Khushi stood frozen near the staircase, hands trembling as she clutched the tray she’d been carrying. The clink of glass against steel betrayed her silence.
Their eyes met.
So many unsaid words hung in the air, but the distance between them felt too vast to bridge. They hadn’t spoken since the day she had seen him at the temple, alone, on what would’ve been their wedding anniversary.
He had left that evening. No explanations.
And now, he was back. At Anjali’s insistence, the family had planned a small celebration for Lakshmi Narayan Jayanti. Music played softly, lights shimmered low, and a handful of guests mingled — unaware of the thick tension coiling around the former lovers.
Khushi turned away.
“Dance performance hai na, Khushi ji?” Payal whispered, nudging her. “Go change. Everyone’s waiting.”
She gave a small nod and disappeared into the room, unsure whether she was escaping or giving herself time to breathe.
In the green saree, Khushi felt like a stranger to herself.
It was the same shade he had once said made her look like a walking paheli — a riddle he couldn’t solve. She had laughed then. Today, the mirror reflected a woman with a cracked heart and a brave face.
Outside, the music had shifted.
She recognized the tune before the first beat fell. Teri Meri… Prem Kahani.
She stiffened. Who had chosen this song?
A message buzzed on her phone.
“You promised to finish what we started. Let’s not break another promise tonight. — ASR”
Her heart thudded. She clutched the phone, her breath catching.
He remembered.
When she stepped out into the darkened hall, the spotlight hit her first — then the hush, and then the tremble in her hands returned. Arnav stood at the far end of the floor, dressed in black, every bit the man she had once hated and fallen for, all at once.
He moved first.
One step toward her, then another. His walk was slow, deliberate, cautious — like he was afraid she might vanish again.
The music swelled.
Teri meri… meri teri… prem kahani hai mushkil…
Their bodies found the rhythm, muscle memory guiding them when emotion threatened to drown logic. His hand found her waist, warm and familiar. She shivered, but didn’t step back.
Their eyes locked, breath mingled. The world narrowed to the space between them.
He twirled her once, twice — she moved like she had that night at the sangeet, but this time, her soul wasn’t dancing.
Tujhko jo paaya… toh jeena aaya…
The lyrics mirrored the ache in their hearts.
“What do you want from me?” she whispered as he pulled her close.
“Everything,” he said. “But I’ll settle for forgiveness.”
Khushi stilled.
The crowd watched silently, mesmerized, but all she saw was the man who had walked away when she needed him most — who had come back with nothing but sorrow in his eyes.
“Why did you leave?” she breathed.
His grip on her waist tightened briefly. He guided her into another spin before pulling her back into his arms, close enough to feel the thud of his heartbeat.
“I was afraid I’d destroy what was left of us.”
Her eyes glistened. “And running away was your answer?”
“I thought… maybe if I stayed away, you’d hurt less.”
“Coward,” she said under her breath, not without affection. “You broke me more by leaving.”
“I know,” he said, voice thick. “And I hated myself every day for it.”
They were still dancing — bodies swaying, footsteps echoing — but the dance had become something more. A fragile truce. A confession. A rediscovery.
He leaned in.
“I saw you at the temple. You were praying… and crying.”
“I thought you’d already left Delhi,” she replied, blinking back tears.
“I couldn’t go. I wanted to see you one last time. But when I saw your pain…” He paused. “I knew I didn’t deserve to be the one to take it away.”
Khushi’s fingers curled against his chest. “But you’re still here.”
“I came back because I realized — maybe I don’t deserve you, Khushi. But I want to try. I want to fight for us. If you’ll let me.”
Tere bina jee na paayein…
The music quieted, the final note lingering in the air like an unspoken promise.
He looked at her then — really looked. Not like ASR, not with arrogance or ownership, but with silent vulnerability.
“You danced with me that night,” he said softly. “Before our world fell apart.”
“I remember.”
“Can we begin again from here?”
The lights came up. The crowd burst into applause. The family cheered. But in that moment, Khushi and Arnav stood alone in a bubble of quiet reconciliation.
She reached up, brushing her fingers lightly against his jaw.
“This isn’t forgiveness,” she whispered. “Not yet.”
He nodded.
“But it’s a start,” she added.
And then, for the first time in weeks, she smiled.
Not the bright, bubbly smile she gave to the world — but a small, tentative one meant only for him.
Arnav breathed again.
The storm outside began to quiet. And maybe, just maybe, the one inside had too.
As the family rushed in with compliments and teasing, Khushi stepped back slightly, the space between them widening — but it no longer felt like a chasm. More like a pause.
Arnav reached for her hand, not with urgency, but a silent request.
This time, she didn’t pull away.
In the chaos, their fingers found each other again.
Not holding on.
Just not letting go.
And somewhere between forgiveness and hope, a new chapter began — not free of pain, but full of promise and togetherness.
ENTRY 2
Special Moment: Khushi leaving Shantivan after her 6 month marriage contract with Arnav ends.
Team members: heavenlybliss (W) and x.titli.x (G)
"Iss ehsaas ko kya naam doon?"
This morning, the air inside Shantivan felt heavier than usual—for it was Khushi’s last day in the house she had lived in for the past six months. The very house where, on that fateful day, Arnav Singh Raizada had forced her into an unwanted contract marriage, all to protect his sister and seek justice.
He had believed she was the reason for Anjali’s crumbling marriage. But later, the truth had unraveled—Khushi had been innocent all along. She had tried to help. She had spoken the truth. Yet, Arnav’s ego had never allowed him to admit his mistake.
And so, here she was, packing to return to Buaji’s house. The six-month contract was over.
Sunlight filtered through the windows and fell softly on her face, but it couldn't reach her heart.
This had been her house for half a year, but she could never call it home.
Neatly, she folded her last dupatta and placed it into the suitcase, as though burying the last piece of her heart. No one had asked her to stay.
Not even him.
“Jhoothe mooh hi sahi, rok lete mujhe,” she thought to herself, wiping away a lone tear with the back of her hand.
She glanced at the door and whispered,
“Aap kuch keh kyun nahi rahe, Arnav ji? Kya itna asaan hai aapke liye mujhe door jaate hue dekhna... aur chup rehna?”
She began dragging her suitcase down the stairs, one step at a time. Her throat burned. Her chest ached.
And then she heard it.
His voice.
Low. Rough. Shaken.
“Khushi!”
She froze.
Turning slowly, she saw him standing at the top of the stairs. His breath was uneven. Panic danced in his eyes.
“Please... mat jao, Khushi,” he said, voice cracking.
Khushi stared at him, wide-eyed. “Yeh aap kya keh rahe hain?”
He descended the stairs with quick, trembling steps. There was no trace of arrogance on his face. Only desperation.
“Maine bohot galtiyan ki hain, Khushi. Har din sirf dard diya tumhe.”
“Toh ab kyun rok rahe hain?” she asked softly. “Ab jab sab khatam ho gaya hai... ab kyun?”
He stopped, now just inches away from her.
“Kyunki agar tum chali gayi... main marr jaunga, Khushi.”
She blinked, stunned.
“Tumse shaadi karna ek impulsive decision tha. I regret the way I did it—every day. Lekin tum...” he hesitated, eyes lowering briefly, “...meri zindagi ki sabse haseen galti ho. Mujhe tumhari aadat ho gayi hai.”
Her lips trembled. “Aadat?”
He nodded.
“Tumhara bholapan, tumhari har baat, har musibat mein bhi khushi dhoondhna, merea khayal rakhna... sab kuch. Agar tum chali gayi, main kya karoonga, Khushi?”
Tears spilled from her eyes. “Chhe mahine majboori mein bitaye... phir bhi aaj lag raha hai jaise kuch toot raha hai?”
“Main farz nahi nibha raha tha...” he said quietly. “Bas samajh nahi paaya.”
A pause. Then, almost a whisper:
“Samajh nahi paaya ke mujhe tumhari zaroorat hai. Ruk jao. Please.”
She looked into his eyes.
He wasn’t asking her to forget. He wasn’t promising to fix everything or painting fantasies of a perfect future.
He wasn’t even reciting clichéd lines.
He was just standing there—raw, stripped of pride, of ASR.
Right now, he was simply Arnav Singh Raizada. A man who didn’t want to be left alone. A man who had finally realized he needed her, even if he couldn’t name why.
Her vision blurred with tears. She slowly loosened her grip on the suitcase handle.
“Mujhe kuch samajh nahi aa raha, Arnav ji.”
“Kuch samajhne ki zaroorat nahi,” he said softly. “Bas yeh jaan lo, ke main tumhare bina adhoora hoon. Tum meri sirf aadat nahi... zaroorat ban chuki ho. Meri zindagi ka ek bohot important hissa.”
Silence fell between them.
Then, without a word, she walked past him.
She didn’t take the suitcase.
She didn’t walk out the door.
She walked back into the bedroom. Their bedroom.
He turned around, watching her go.
No smile. No touch. No contact.
But something had shifted.
The door stayed open that day.
A new beginning had crept in—quietly, without declarations.
A faint breeze passed through the open windows as “Rabba Ve…” echoed softly in the air.
It was no longer the song of confusion or resistance.
It was something gentler now. Something tentative.
Ateet aur bhavishya ke beech ki khamoshi mein, ek naye ehsaas ne janm lena shuru kar diya tha.
Aur shayad ek din, iss ankahe ehsaas ka bhi ek naam hoga.
Edited by IPK_Organisers - 1 months ago
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