The Dr Kaira Chapter. - Page 8

Originally posted by: AnjuRish

Why is ru salty with dadi and v mata for not standing by when ar ab bullied her during surrogacy ?

Maybe this was her last gift coz rohit wanted it

What do muskan feels about abir current support and not giving reality check to abira .. letting her keep going back to ar without warning ( or did he and we will c soon why he kept quiet? )

Final person 😅 ally ? Hmm shivu birla ?

Even i am curious abt mukaan’s reaction on abhir

That last person what if that's charu 🤣🤣🤣

Harsh birla would be epic but I doubt that

I think ruhi after going to Japan understood none has supported her ever not even bagera. She's cordial to bageera cause she's nice during maida pregnancy that's all

Abhir i hope stay the hell away from kiara . Ruhi giving reality check to abhir would be nice too

Part 10:The Support System

The auditorium held its breath, and the Poddar familytensed, dreading who the Goenkas had chosen to place in the spotlight next.

Emcee: "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome... the biggest support system of Shrimati Naira Singhania Goenka, traveling all the way from NewZealand! Please join me in welcoming Shri. Naksh Singhania and Smt. KirtiSinghania!"

The collective gasp from the audience was one of genuinerespect and astonishment. These were family elders—the generation that hadwitnessed and built the empire alongside Kartik and Naira Goenka.

The two octogenarians, Naksh (81) and Kirti (82), appearedat the side of the stage. Naksh, Naira’s brother, looked dignified in a crisp,traditional bandhgala that hinted at his blended traditional yet modernoutlook. Kirti, Kartik’s formidable sister, carried herself with an air ofquiet, absolute authority, her traditional saree asserting her dual role asboth Kairav's Bua and Mami.

Kairav and Muskan immediately rushed back to the wings,moving with respectful speed to help the powerful couple up the steps. Theywere not just escorting relatives; they were honoring the family's deepestroots.

As Naksh and Kirti took their place beside the ChiefMinister, the stage felt suddenly heavier with historical significance. Ruhiand Abhir instantly moved forward, greeting their elder relatives with genuinewarmth and deep respect.

Abhira stood slightly puzzled at the sudden display of deepfamilial emotion. She knew these faces, but the sudden, strategic inclusion ofsuch distant, powerful relatives felt like an overt display of overwhelmingstrength.

Then, Kaira moved. Dressed in her dazzling emerald lehenga,she walked toward the elders and, in a perfectly choreographed, utterly sinceregesture, bent low and touched the feet of her Bade Mama and Bade Mami, seekingtheir blessings right in front of the CM and the hundreds of cameras.

In the Poddar row, the earlier fury of Kaveri and Vidya wasreplaced by confusion and grudging respect.

Kaveri (Muttering to Manoj): "Naksh and Kirti? Theyhave brought out their absolute oldest artillery. This is not a simple event;this is a political statement of depth."

The announcement was complete. The stage now held the CM,Kairav, Muskan, Ruhi, Abhir, Abhira, Kaira, Naksh, and Kirti—a formidablelineup of political power, generational wealth, and deep familial bonds.

The auditorium was still buzzing from the surpriseappearance of the Singhania elders. Naksh Singhania, steadying himself at thepodium with the help of Kairav, began to speak. His voice, though aged, waswarm, clear, and carried the gentle authority of a true patriarch.

Naksh Singhania: "Good evening. It is an immense honorto stand here tonight, in this magnificent place built by my nephew, Kairav,and his wife, Muskan. When I look out at this soaring dome, at this beautiful,meticulous design, I don’t just see marble and teak. I see a promisefulfilled."

His eyes softened, looking past the lights toward the frontrow, perhaps imagining his late sister.

Naksh: "My little sister, Naira. She was always ourfirefly. She was life, she was light, and above all, she was movement. Shecouldn't stand still, literally or figuratively. While our family was rooted intradition, Naira taught us that tradition must always move forward, finding newrhythms, new steps. She was the heart that connected the old world of theSinghanias with the new vision of the Goenkas."

He paused, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips.

Naksh: "She would have loved this. She would have lovedthe ambition, the scale, and the fact that we have built a beautiful, modernsanctuary right here in Udaipur to house the passion she lived for. This Centreis not just a tribute to a dancer; it is a permanent affirmation of her beliefthat art is essential to life, and that passion, when channeled, can build aninstitution."

He looked directly at the younger generation on thestage—Ruhi, Abhir, Abhira, and Kaira.

Naksh: "And to the children, the next generation ofthis legacy... your elders have given you this stage. Kairav and Muskan, youhave built the monument. Now, it is up to all of you—my Kaira, my Abhira, myAbhir, my Ruhi—to fill this space with meaning. Carry the spirit of Naira: bebold, be creative, and never let anyone extinguish your personal fire. May thisCentre be eternally blessed."

The applause was profound, a powerful mix of respect for theelder's personal sorrow and awe at the family's deep-rooted history, furthercementing the Goenkas' untouchable social stature in the eyes of the entirecity—a stature the Poddars simply could not rival.

The private green room backstage was a temporary haven ofsoft light and velvet, a world away from the chilling grandeur of theauditorium. Kaira stood before a mirror, her earlier clinical focus replaced bya visible tremor of anxiety.

Her dance costume was a magnificent tribute: a traditionalyet subtly modernized ivory and gold anarkali, richly embroidered with fine zariwork that mimicked the flowing patterns of Rajasthani folk art, shimmeringunder the soft vanity lights. The silk was heavy, demanding precision, designedto capture the elegance and movement of Naira Goenka's own dance style. She wasbeautiful, but burdened by the weight of the moment.

A soft, deferential knock came at the door. Kairav andMuskan entered, accompanied by Naksh and Kirti Singhania. Kaira immediatelymoved to seek their blessings.

Kairav held a long, beautifully crafted wooden box. NakshSinghania stepped forward, his eyes filled with a gentle, profound love. Hereached out and lovingly placed his palm against Kaira's cheek, steadying her.

Naksh (His voice quiet and sincere): "Gudiya. Forgetthe cameras, forget the crowd. Today, you are dancing for your Dadi,Naira."

He slowly opened the box. Inside, resting on a bed ofcrimson silk, lay a pair of antique, intricately crafted ghungroos (ankle bells). They were old,bearing the soft patina of time, yet polished to a gentle gleam.

Kirti Singhania (Her voice firm but warm): "These arethe ghungroos Naira wore every single time she stepped onto a stage. They carrythe music of her soul. We had them carefully restored for this night,Kaira."

Kaira stared at the bells, her eyes welling up instantly.She instinctively backed away, shaking her head. The sight and the knowledge oftheir history were overwhelming.

Kaira (Her voice choked with emotion): "No. I... Ican’t. Please. These have Dadi's mehak... her blessings, her artistry. I am notcapable of wearing them. They are too sacred."

The formidable posture of Kairav Goenka, the man who hadorchestrated this entire event with ruthless efficiency, softened entirely. Hemoved to his daughter, his own eyes reflecting the deep, protective love heheld for his mother's memory. He spoke softly, in Hindi, appealing directly toher heart and the core Goenka principle of legacy.

Kairav (Gently, in Hindi): "Nahin, meri bacchi. Agartum yeh pehnogi toh Maa ko tumhare zariye naachne ka mauka milega"

Muskan stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on Kaira'sshoulder, her own eyes shining with tears. "Let her dance, Kaira. For us.For her."

The scene became deeply emotional, a complete surrender tofamily and memory. Kaira finally knelt on the plush carpet. Naksh and Kairav,father and maternal uncle, knelt side-by-side. With slow, tender movements,they secured the ancestral Ghungroos onto Kaira’s ankles.

The sound of the bells, tinkling softly as they fastenedthem, was a profound, emotional declaration. In that moment, the politicalwarfare and the social games vanished. It was only about the enduring bonds ofthe Goenka family, the power of a mother's legacy, and the transmission of asacred duty to the next generation. Kaira rose, feeling the cool metal againsther skin, no longer anxious, but fortified by the immense love and historyresting on her shoulders.

The Goenka family, bolstered by the presence of theSinghania elders on stage, exited gracefully for the intermission. The sheerweight of the display—the CM, the revered Naksh and Kirti, and the successfulthird generation—left the Poddar and Bansal families reeling. Low, frustratedmurmurs rippled through their row.

Manisha (Whispering furiously to Manoj): "Did you seethat? Kirti ji was beaming at Kairav!We're being treated like second-class citizens at a dawat, not family! And thatlittle Daksh is wearing a suit that probably costs more than our kitchenrenovation!"

Abhira, still stunned by her brother's unscheduledperformance and the escalating family politics, leaned across her seat toconfront Armaan, who was brooding silently.

Abhira (Poking his arm pointedly, her voice a low hiss):"Listen, my silly boy! Why are you looking all grumpy and silent? Did youknow Abhir Bhai was going to pull a maha surprise musical attack on the stage?You’re a lawyer! You should know these things! Why didn't anyone tell us mybrother was going to perform a beautiful, classical raga? Your detective skillsare zero, shunya, nil!"

Armaan (Scoffing, annoyed by her touch and her language):"It's called a raga, Abhira, and no, I did not know. Because they areGoenkas, and they operate in closed circuits. And it doesn't matter what yourbrother does; it matters that I was publicly sidelined."

The house lights dimmed slightly, drawing the audience'sattention back to the stage. The Emcee returned, his voice smooth andauthoritative.

Emcee: "Ladies and gentlemen, we now transition to aperformance that honors the very spirit of the Naira Goenka Cultural Centre.Tonight, the grand legacy of Smt. Naira Goenka, whose love for dance inspiredthis institution, will be honored by her own granddaughter."

He paused for dramatic effect.

Emcee: "Please prepare to witness a Classical Dancetribute by the formidable, talented Dr. Kaira Goenka!"

The announcement hit the Poddar row with the force of anactual impact. Abhira gasped, her eyes wide with genuine shock. Kaira? Dancing?This was another layer of unexpected talent and high-profile involvement theyhadn't anticipated.

Vidya leaned forward, her contempt palpable, finally havinga target she could judge on merit.

Vidya (Hissing to Kaveri, her eyes narrowed): "Adancer? After all that international education, she is reduced to aperformance? This is exactly why these artsy families fail to maintaincommercial power. It’s frivolous."

Kaveri Poddar (Her gaze cold and critical): "Frivolous,perhaps, Vidya. But strategic. She’s using sentimentality as a weapon. Let'ssee how much classical shastriya discipline that foreign-trained postureactually holds. Watch her carefully. We will judge her worth now."

The auditorium lights began to fade completely, immersingthe hall in darkness, leaving only the anticipation of Kaira's performancehanging heavy in the chilled air.

The auditorium was plunged into a deep, reverent darkness.Backstage, poised to face the light, Kaira took her initial position. Despitethe ancestral ghungroos secured to her ankles, the polished armor of hercomposure was frayed by profound anxiety. Her fear was singular: that herperformance would fall short, that she would fail to honor the artistic soul ofher Dadi, Naira Goenka.

As the music began—a soft, soulful swell of live classicalmusicians—the curtains began their slow, majestic ascent. The first beam oflight hit Kaira, and in that instant, the crippling anxiety vanished. Aprofound, almost divine calm washed over her. It was as if the weight of the ghungrooshad connected her directly to the spirit of the woman who had worn them before.

Kaira launched into her performance, presenting a classicalpiece based on Kanha (from Binodinii). It was a dance of devotion and sublimeemotion. Her ivory and gold anarkali flowed with her precise yet expressivemovements. The intricate footwork, highlighted by the melodic ringing ofNaira's bronze bells, was flawless, telling a story of pure love and surrender.

The performance was not just technically brilliant; it wasdivine. Every tilt of her head, every extension of her arm, was imbued with anemotional maturity that held the massive auditorium captive.

The effect on the audience was instantaneous: spellbound.

In the Poddar row, the judging gazes of Vidya and Kaverifroze in mid-criticism. They were shell-shocked into silence, unable toreconcile the sophisticated corporate doctor they judged with this mesmerizingartist. Even Armaan stared, his resentment momentarily overridden by the sheer,undeniable beauty and power of the performance.

Abhira watched, her mouth slightly agape. She felt acomplicated mix of awe and a sharp, sudden pang of something akin todisplacement. Kaira's command over the stage, her flawless connection to theGoenka artistic heritage, forcefully and visually diminished Abhira's ownposition as the supposed "legacy girl."

Ruhi leaned forward, her usual cool facade melting into pureawe, while little Daksh sat wide-eyed, completely engrossed.

Aaryan Poddar, however, watched not just the dancer, but hisfuture partner. He was utterly mesmerized. His anxiety about the strategicannouncement vanished, replaced by an intense, consuming conviction. He saw thestrength, the passion, and the loyalty she was displaying to her family's namethe very qualities he sought to align himself with. His gaze was fixed, hisexpression soft, a slow, proud realization dawning in his eyes: This was thewoman worth breaking his own family for. Every graceful movement was a renewedpromise, every flawless expression a further commitment to their shared future.

As the music reached its emotional crescendo, the massivebackdrop displayed a subtle, beautiful projection of Naira Goenka in a classicdance pose. Kaira struck an identical final pose, her body perfectly aligningwith her Dadi’s image. The effect was breathtaking: she was the physical'chavvi' (reflection) of Naira.

Naksh Singhania watched his grandniece, tears silentlytracking down his face, seeing his little sister dance once more. Kairav andMuskan swelled with quiet, almost unbearable pride.

Kaira held the final pose as the music faded to silence.

For a moment a full, profound thirty seconds the massive,chilled auditorium remained utterly silent. The audience was suspended betweenawe and reality.

Then, the silence erupted. The applause was a thunderous,sustained roar, shaking the very foundations of the grand structure. The ChiefMinister and the majority of the dignitaries rose in a standing ovation,acknowledging the powerful, eternal revival of a legacy.

The backstage hallway was a flurry of fleeting shadows andechoing applause, but the moment Kaira slipped into the quiet solitude of hergreen room, the outside world ceased to exist. Exhaustion tried to pull at her,but the magic of the ghungroos still hummed in her veins.

She stopped, her breath catching.

Aaryan Poddar was there, standing under the soft light ofthe vanity. He wasn't the composed lawyer; he was simply a man utterly,irrevocably in love. The deep blue of his suit seemed to frame the single, velvetcrimson rose he held, its color a shocking contrast to the ivory of hercostume.

Kaira (A soft, tremulous whisper): "Aaryan... youshouldn't be here. Someone might see."

Aaryan (His voice low, a warm vibration that chased thechill from the room): "Let them. I only see you." He crossed thespace in two swift steps, his eyes tracing the lingering intensity in hers."Kaira, that wasn't a performance. That was your soul on fire. You were magnificent.You were the reason the stars shine."

He gently presented the rose.

Aaryan: "This rose is for the artist who took my breathaway. But I came here to remind you of the second thing, the thing moreimportant than any audience or any family feud."

He reached up, cupping her cheek with his free hand, histhumb stroking her skin. His gaze held hers, utterly earnest.

Aaryan: "After seeing you claim that legacy tonight, Iknow our path is written. We are stronger together than we ever were apart.Kaira, listen to me: I am ready to burn down the old world to build our newone. The plan, the Mumbai venture, the battle it's not just a strategy anymore.It is our destiny. I am your partner. And I will stand by you through everystorm."

Kaira leaned into his touch, her eyes glistening. She pressed the cool velvet of the rose against her cheek, inhaling its intoxicating scent, which smelled just like the promise in his words. The exhaustion, the anxiety, the political maneuvering it all dissolved into the absolute conviction of their shared future. This one private moment was their sacred vow, sealed with a rose and a fierce, unspoken resolution.

Part 10 is out!

Hope yall liked this.

Naksh and Kirti (I always spelt her name as Keerti) ❤️ It is good to see that the Goenkas have kept in touch (unlike the mess in the show).

Part 11: Aukat

The Grand Ballroom, a dazzling expanse of mirrored walls andcrystal light, became the setting for the inevitable family collision.

Kairav and Muskan Goenka stood side-by-side, perfectly composed. Muskan, in her sapphire Sabyasachi, looked truly ethereal—her poise and maintained elegance making her appear almost untouched by the passage oftime.

The Poddar women approached, their expressions a desperate battle between forced smiles and raw insecurity. Vidya and Manisha instantly felt their own expensive silks and heavy jewelry were being weighed and hilariously found wanting against Muskan's serene, cool perfection.

Manisha (Hissing to Vidya, barely stifling a gasp):"Did you see her? She looks like she bathes in filtered gold! And that diamond... it's a full carat larger than the one I bought last month. It’s impossible!"

Vidya (Clutching her own bangles, her voice tight):"They think this cold, snobby look is superior. Just wait. Let's get thisover with."

Abhira, taking a deep breath, stepped forward to perform theintroductions, determined to get through the formality despite the hostileatmosphere.

Abhira: "Mama, Mami Muskan, I'd like you to meet myfamily."

She began the procession, presenting the Poddar and Bansalmembers one by one:

Kaveri Poddar: "My Dadi Saas(grandmother-in-law), Kaveri Poddar."

Madhav and Vidya: "My Sasur(father-in-law), Madhav, and my Saas (mother-in-law), Vidya."

Manoj and Manisha: "My ChachaSasur (paternal uncle-in-law), Manoj, and my Chachi Saas (paternalaunt-in-law), Manisha."

Kajal and Sanjay: "My BuaSaas (paternal aunt-in-law), Kajal, and Fufa Sasur (uncle-in-law),Sanjay."

With each introduction, Muskan Goenka maintained a remote,glacially snobby demeanor. Her smile was minimal, her assessment of theirattire and status overtly critical, giving off the clear message that they wereminor guests, not equals. Kairav, standing next to his wife, watched the entireexchange with a subtle, dismissive smirk, his eyes conveying complete triumphover the visibly uncomfortable Poddars.

Just as the formal introductions concluded, a high-pitchedshriek sliced through the ambient ballroom music.

Tanya (Loudly, ignoring all protocol): "Kaira! Thereyou are, you brilliant thing!"

Tanya Raizada Bansal, Krish's wife, burst past the line ofPoddars. Oblivious to the intense political standoff she was interrupting, shelaunched herself at Kaira.

Tanya: "Oh my God! The dance! You were a full-ongoddess! And those ghungroos! Tell me everything about Tokyo, your outfit, andwhy you didn't tell me you were performing! This is the most maha surpriseever!"

Kaira's tight, polite expression immediately fractured intoone of sheer relief and unbridled affection. The cold, judging atmosphere ofthe receiving line had been suffocating. Kaira laughed, a genuine, delightedsound that cut through the silence. She stepped out of the formal line,immediately embracing her cousin tightly.

Kaira (Holding Tanya, her voice filled with genuine warmth):"Tanya, my favorite chaos! Thank you! It's so good to see you! You have noidea how much I needed a real hug right now."

Kairav and Muskan were initially startled by the loudinterruption. But as they watched Tanya's genuine, unrestrained affection forKaira, their snobby demeanor melted away. A flicker of warmtha rare commodityin their political stance appeared in their eyes.

The affectionate moment between Kaira and Tanya dissolvedinstantly as Vidya, her jealousy boiling over, stepped forward. She discardedthe pretense of "cold," opting for a direct, searing attack onMuskan's morality and attire.

Vidya (Her voice laced with venom, loud enough to drawattention, staring pointedly at Muskan's sleeveless blouse): "Bade ghar kibahu bankar aayi hain, Muskan ji. Itne middle age mein bhi, aapko lajja aursharam nahi aati? Ek sleeveless blouse pehenkar, aisi ghatiya harkat. Thoda tohsocho ki log kya kahenge!"

The attack was savage: aiming to shame Muskan not just forher look, but for lacking the modesty expected of an elder bahu(daughter-in-law).

Muskan merely raised a chilling eyebrow, but before shecould deliver a glacial retort, Kaira moved. Her beautiful emerald lehengaseemed to swirl with sudden, lethal energy as she stepped right up to Vidya,their faces inches apart. Kaira's voice was low, sharp, and cut through theballroom noise like a whip, ensuring the key words reached everyone, especiallyArmaan.

Kaira (Her smile gone, her eyes hard, ): "Ah, Vidya Aunty ! Kitne bade bade shabdon ka istmaal kiya aapne: lajja, sharam, sanskaar!Yeh sunkar toh lagta hai ki aap purity ki devi hain."

Kaira leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to adangerous whisper, yet still carrying to the nearby family members.

Kaira: "Lajja aur sharam ki baate woh karte hai jinhonekisike pati aur bacche ko churaya na ho!"

Kaira pulled back, her smile returning, cold and triumphant.

Kaira: "Aur sleeveless blouse? That's just a fashionchoice. At least hum jo pehente hain, woh humara hota hai. Chori ka nahi!"

The silence that followed was deafening. The crowd—thePoddars, the Bansals, and the Goenkas—were utterly shocked. Kaira had not justdefended Muskan; she had leveraged the darkest, most carefully guarded skeletonin the Poddar closet, implying Kaveri and Vidya’s complicity in thedisappearance of Madhav's first wife (Armaan’s birth mother).

Armaan Poddar felt the words pierce him like a physicalblow. His eyes widened in horrified realization, staring at Kaira, thenfrantically at his mother, Vidya. The air in the Grand Ballroom, alreadychilled, now felt like ice. The friendly engagement had just detonated intofull-blown emotional warfare.

The chilling accusation Kaira had leveled against Vidya,exposing the dark secret of Armaan's birth mother, left the receiving linefrozen in horrified silence. Vidya’s face was a mask of furious, terrifieddenial. Armaan stared at his mother, the reality of Kaira’s words beginning tosink in, his eyes wide with betrayal and shock.

Before the silence could fully break, Ruhi Birla glidedsmoothly into the tension-filled cluster. She was holding nine-year-old Daksh’shand, sensing the atmosphere immediately.

The Poddar family, masters of social damage control,performed an immediate, dizzying pivot. The raw shock and anger vanished,replaced by an oily, suffocating wave of flattery and adoration.

Vidya (Forcing a bright, utterly false smile, rushing towardDaksh): "Arre! Look, Daksh beta (son)! Come here,Dakshu! You are gettingso big! How are your studies? You look so handsome in that suit!"

Kaveri Poddar, seizing the distraction, softened herformidable gaze and reached out to gently touch Daksh’s hair, her voicedripping with artificial affection.

Kaveri: "Bless you, my child. You are the perfectreflection of your Papa.Come and stand with your Big Dadi."

Madhav, relieved to escape the conversation about his firstwife, offered Ruhi a deeply respectful nod. Armaan and Abhira quickly joinedthe facade, Armaan using the distraction to compose himself from the shock, andAbhira offering Ruhi a warm, familiar smile.

Ruhi, the strategic weapon, played her part flawlessly. Sheoffered the Poddar elders a performance of warmth that was utterly, completelyfake.

Ruhi (Her eyes sparkling with manufactured affection,squeezing Daksh’s hand): "Daksh is doing wonderfully, Dadi sa. And Ma, itis so good to see you! We just adore your rani pink; it brings such energy tothe room!" (She gave Vidya a significant, subtle look that confirmedKaira's savage defense had been noticed and approved).

Ruhi allowed Kaveri and Vidya to briefly fuss over Daksh,subtly using her son as a human shield to control the narrative. Her demeanor theperfect blend of international executive and loving family member was designedto disarm them. She was overtly loving, strategically engaging with them aboutfamily and business, ensuring that the brutal accusation Kaira had justdelivered would remain unspoken, buried under layers of forced politeness andsocial performance... for now.

Seizing the moment while the Poddar family was distracted byDaksh, Kairav offered Kaveri Poddar a deceptively polite smile. Without waitingfor a refusal, Kairav and Muskan gently escorted the rigid matriarch toward thevelvet-roped lounge where Naksh and Kirti Singhania were seated.

The three elders were introduced, and instead of a clash,something wonderfully unexpected happened.

Kirti Singhania (Her eyes lighting up like a child spottinga treat, admiring Kaveri’s heavy maroon Patola saree): "Oh, Kaveri ji, namaste.That Patola is simply divine! The colors are so traditional and rich. It’s likewearing a little piece of history! Tell me, where did you find a weaver withsuch shauq (passion)?"

Kaveri Poddar's severe expression melted entirely. Her eyes,usually so sharp, now held a soft, delighted twinkle. She quickly studiedKirti's delicate, yet expensive jewelry.

Kaveri (Leaning in, her voice hushed with shared love forquality): "It was inherited, Kirti ji. But my dear, your taste in jewelry!So delicate, so perfectly chosen. It whispers wealth; it doesn't shout. I justadore women who understand true class."

The two formidable matriarchs immediately forgot the ongoingfeud and settled into a bubbly, enthusiastic chatter about their favoritesilks, the best way to maintain antique gold, and the tragedy of modernsynthetic fabrics. They were like two schoolgirls who had discovered a sharedpassion for a secret hobby.

Naksh Singhania, seated awkwardly between the twochattering, animated women, looked utterly charmed and slightly put-upon. Headjusted his spectacles, shaking his head with a fond, weary smile.

Naksh (Muttering softly to Kairav, his voice full of gentleamusement): "Arre, look at them! I thought we were discussing the Centre'slegal framework. They've decided to discuss the future of the Indian textileindustry instead! Two Matriarchs giggling like besties over bangles. I feelabsolutely redundant, beta."

Meanwhile, Kaira, seeing the lighthearted moment and theelders happily distracted, seized the opportunity.

Kaira (Calling out softly but firmly): "Abhira! RuhiDi! Abhir Bhai! Hurry up! Bade Mama and Badi Mami are asking for all of us.Come and get some good blessings!"

Kaira pulled her cousins toward the lounge, using theshared, heartwarming distraction to quietly consolidate the family's youngalliance.

Having finished her delightful, detailed consultation onsilk purity with Kirti, Kaveri Poddar—her political resolve somewhat softenedby the camaraderie—offered a crisp farewell and departed the lounge to rejoinher family.

As Kaveri left, Kaira ushered the nervous but united youngergeneration—Ruhi, Abhir, and Abhira—into the elders' presence.

Kaira (Guiding them): "Bade Mama, Badi Mami, meet therest of the generation. My sister, Ruhi, and my cousins, Abhir andAbhira."

Naksh and Kirti greeted the young adults warmly. Their focusimmediately landed on Abhir.

Naksh (Smiling, leaning forward): "Abhir! Arre, comehere, come here! It is so good to finally catch you. We loved your performance!We listen to your newest album constantly, you know, even here in New Zealand!That rock energy is fantastic."

Kirti (Her eyes twinkling, offering a mock scowl): "Buthonestly, Abhir, what was that about? You become a famous rockstar, you releaseyour album globally, and yet you don't have ten minutes to visit your Badi Mamiand Bade Mama in New Zealand? Shame on you!"

She reached out and gave his ear a gentle, loving pull aclassic family gesture of affection and mild scolding.

Abhir (Rubbing his ear, grinning widely): "I am sosorry, Badi Mami! Agli baar, I promise, I'll fly straight to you. It's truly ablessing you liked the raga—it was spur of the moment!"

Naksh (Laughing gently, resting a hand on Abhir’s shoulder):"Spur of the moment, perhaps, but pure talent, beta. You have thatbeautiful voice, that perfect sur (pitch)... that came straight from yourmother, Akshara. She was always a gifted singer. You carry her quality forward,We are immensely proud."

The acknowledgement was profound: Abhir, the celebrated rockstar, was instantly grounded and tied back to the classical, familial legacy,receiving a dual blessing from the elders for his talent and his devotion tohis mother's memory.

After Abhir received his fond scolding and powerfulvalidation, Kaira moved immediately, slipping seamlessly between Naksh andKirti on the small sofa. She settled comfortably, resting her headaffectionately on Naksh's shoulder while holding Kirti's hand. Both eldersbeamed, visibly adoring her natural mix of deference and confidence.

The focus then shifted to Ruhi.

Naksh (Smiling warmly at Ruhi): "Ruhi beta, you alsomust come and visit us. We see all your work. Your newest collection for GoenkaDiamonds, Kirti was just telling me, is absolutely exquisite. That fusion oftraditional craftsmanship with modern design—it shows true vision. You havetaken the Goenka name higher in the luxury market."

Kirti (Squeezing Kaira's hand, then looking at Ruhi withclear admiration): "And your commitment to your Nani, Sirat Shekhawat's legacy! The Sirat Shekhawat Boxing Academy project—it’s not just philanthropy,it’s empowerment. We are so proud to see you honoring the strength and fighting spirit of your family in such a meaningful way."

Naksh nodded slowly, his expression shifting from familial pride to sincere esteem.

Naksh: "Indeed, Ruhi. To balance the global demands of business with such a strong commitment to a social cause, and to ensure your Nani's name stands for strength and support... I truly respect that, beta. You manage the complexity of this family's history with such grace."

Ruhi, usually cool and composed, flushed slightly at the genuine praise and respect from the family's patriarchs. The elders' blessings affirmed that the modern, successful Goenka generation was carrying forward all facets of the family’s complex, powerful legacy—not just art, but business and strength.

As Kaira, Ruhi, and Abhir excused themselves, Abhira startedto follow, but Naksh gently extended a hand, stopping her.

Naksh: "Abhira, wait for a moment, beta. We havesomething very important to discuss with you alone."

Abhira sat down nervously. Naksh and Kirti, despite theirserious expressions, were overtly adoring towards her, making the cominginterrogation harder to bear.

Kirti (Reaching out, fondly stroking Abhira’s cheek):"You are strong, my child. The strength of your mother, Akshara. And thatis precisely why we must ask you, frankly: Why did you remarry Armaan?"

Abhira flinched, the question hitting the core of hersuppressed doubts.

Naksh (His voice quiet but steady, listing the offenses):"We saw the pain he put you through. We saw him abandon Ruhi at the mandap after swinging between you two. We saw him silence you for three months after your wedding because his mother was displeased. We saw him try to force you to quit your law career by slapping a resignation letter on your table,deciding your fate."

Kirti leaned forward, her eyes conveying a depth of hard-wonwisdom.

Kirti: "Your Mama is right. We know he hid the truth about your stillborn baby, not letting you see your child for the last time because he couldn't handle your grief. That is selfishness, not love. I know what it means to be stuck with a man whose weakness controls your life. I was once married to a man who controlled me, who was unkind. I chose myself-respect and I left him. You never have to stay because you feel you should."

Naksh drove the final, most recent nails into the coffin of Armaan's character.

Naksh: "And then, in the final act of betrayal: The trial. When you needed justice for your paralysed brother, Abhir, whose caree rArmaan's mother ruined—Armaan chose to abandon his ethics, blame Abhir, an doffer compensation. And later he destroyed your career? He threw a vase at a mirror out of frustration,insulting you, calling you incapable because you didn't give birth to your daughter Maira, and then kidnapped Maira for seven years under a false identity!"

He looked directly into Abhira’s eyes, the love in his gaze making the critique devastating.

Naksh: "Abhira, love is not supposed to come with a ledger of betrayal and emotional control. It is not supposed to require you to abandon your moral compass. You are a lawyer, and you deserve a partner who respects your fight, not one who adds to your trauma."

Abhira sat frozen. The combined weight of every pastcruelty, now validated and cataloged by her most respected family elders,struck her with horrifying clarity. The seed of doubt planted was now takingroot—a cold, terrifying realization of the truth about the man she had chosento remarry.

Abhira’s mind was reeling, but years of internalizedrationalization immediately kicked in. She pushed the terrifying catalog ofmemories away, defending the man she had chosen to love.

Abhira (Her voice trembling slightly, but firming with conviction): "No, Bade Mama. You are seeing the past. Yes, he made terrible mistakes huge ones and he hurt me. But Armaan... he has changed. He knows his mistakes now. He is reforming. He is committed to us. and he chose me over his entire family! He's not that man anymore. He truly loves me."

She clung to the belief desperately, her eyes pleading for their understanding.

Naksh and Kirti exchanged a single, eloquent look overAbhira’s head. It was a look of profound sympathy and deep, quiet sorrow—thelook of two people who understood perfectly the mechanism of denial and thedepth of the trap Abhira was in. They knew that their words had been toostrong, too fast, and that Abhira was reacting to protect her own sanity.

They offered no further argument. The seed of doubt had been planted; now it needed time to germinate in silence.

Kirti (Softly, gently patting Abhira's hand): "You are right, beta. You know him best. If you truly feel he has changed, then we trust your judgment."

Naksh (Giving a slow, final nod): "Yes, Abhira. We aresorry if we worried you. We only want your happiness and safety. We trust that you will always protect your strong heart."

They offered her a comforting smile, which held a subtle undercurrent of pity, and let the conversation rest. Abhira, relieved by their apparent agreement, stood up, unaware that the elders had just strategically validated her current choice while ensuring she would never again forget the catalog of evidence against him.

The buzz in the Grand Ballroom intensified as Muskan Goenka and Kirti Singhania ascended a small, elevated platform. Flanked by Kairav and Naksh, they prepared to unveil the core structure of the Naira Goenka Cultural Centre (NGCC).

The Poddar family watched from their table, their anger now hardened into pure, burning envy.

Kirti Singhania began, setting the stage with powerful words about female legacy. Muskan then took the microphone, a picture of flawless poise.

Muskan: "The Naira Goenka Cultural Centre is comprised of three vital institutions, each named after a woman whose passion defined her life and defined us. We are proud to announce the core pillars of the NGCC:"

She gestured toward the screen, where three elegant architectural renderings were revealed, named in bold lettering:

1. The Akshara Goenka School of Music

2. The Dr. Aarohi Goenka Museum of Fine Arts

3. The Naira Singhania Goenka Auditorium

The applause from the Goenka family and the loyal audience was immediate and profound.

On the edge of the crowd, Abhir swelled with pride. To see the Akshara Goenka School of Music named for his mother was a deeply emotional moment of validation.

However, Abhira stood absolutely still, her initial pride for her mother’s recognition quickly turning into a cold, profound shock.

Akshara Goenka.

Abhira knew that while her mother, Akshara, was born a Goenka, she had carried the surname Sharma her husband Abhinav’s name, Abhira’s father’s name until her last breath. By naming the institution the Akshara Goenka School of Music, the family was consciously erasing the legacy of the man Akshara had loved and the surname she had chosen.

Abhira (Internal Thought): "They kept her. They kept her legacy, her voice... but they deliberately erased Papa's name from her life! Akshara Sharma that's who she was. The Goenkas are not just building a monument; they are rewriting history to suit their name and their empire!"

It was a subtle, yet brutal declaration of power: the Goenkas would honor their own, and excise any non-Goenka affiliations, regardless of personal choice or emotional truth. The Poddars, recognizing the sheer scale and expense of the endowments, watched in silent, frustrated envy, oblivious to the emotional bomb that had just detonated within Abhira.

The grand announcement concluded, and the ballroom dissolved into polite chaos. Media gathered around the dignitaries, and the Poddars began their strategic exit. Abhira, however, was unable to move. The slight—the erasure of her father’s name from her mother’s legacy—had rooted her to the spot.

She spotted Kairav Goenka nearby, speaking briefly to an event manager. Ignoring the political risk, Abhira walked straight up to her Mama and confronted him, her voice tight with controlled anger.

Abhira (Her voice low and shaking): "Mama, I need to ask you something. Why? The Akshara Goenka School of Music? Mama, you know Maa was Akshara Sharma till her last breath. That was the surname she chose. Why did you erase the Sharma name from her legacy?"

Kairav Goenka looked at her, his expression utterly cool and nonchalant. He dismissed the event manager with a flick of his wrist, giving Abhira his full, chilling attention.

Kairav (Shrugging slightly, his tone completely uncaring): "And so what, Abhira? It is a cultural centre, not a municipal office. Akshara was a Goenka first, born and raised. She was my sister. The Goenka name represents the history of this entire institution. Why should we dilute our primary brand name with an external surname?"

He took a slow, deliberate sip of water, his eyes piercing her. He then delivered his cutting counter-argument, leveraging her own identity against her.

Kairav: "And tell me, Abhira why are you, a married woman, still asking these questions? You are Mrs. Abhira Armaan Poddar now, yet you insist on being known as Abhira Sharma in your law firm and everywhere else. If you, the living one, can’t carry your husband’s surname fully, why should my late sister, Akshara, carry the burden of her late husband’s surname on a permanent cultural institution?"

The argument was brutal and hypocritical, slamming her with her own choices and exposing the Goenka family’s ruthless priority: legacy over emotional truth. Abhira stared, stunned into silence by the cold, undeniable logic of his corporate pride. The debate about the Sharma surname had been deflected, replaced by a direct challenge to her personal identity.

Muskan glided over, her sapphire saree shimmering, placing a dismissive hand on Kairav's arm. She fixed Abhira with a cool, pitying gaze, ready to reinforce Kairav's logic. Her voice, usually so smooth, held a razor's edge of calculated cruelty, especially poignant given her relationship with Abhinav.

Muskan (Her voice dropping slightly, feigning sympathy before delivering the blow): "Kairav is right, Abhira. I know how much your father, Abhinav, meant to all of us. Especially to me." (She paused, letting the implication of her muh boli behen status hang in the air.) "But we must be practical. This is a cultural institution for the Goenka legacy. You see, the Goenka name holds the most capital and the most prestige."

She stared directly into Abhira’s eyes, betraying her own sworn brother's memory for the sake of the family brand.

Muskan: "Frankly, Sharma has no relevance to our status or this institution. It's a sweet, sentimental name a beautiful memory for you and me but it doesn't hold the necessary prestige for a monument of this scale. In business and in society, you lead with the strongest name. And as Kairav pointed out: you yourself, the daughter of Akshara and Abhinav, prioritize your father’s name over your husband’s, even after being married into the Poddar family. If you lack the conviction to fully adopt a new name, how can we be expected to immortalize a name that the rest of the world has already forgotten?"

Abhira felt the hypocrisy like a physical slap, but the sting was twofold. It wasn't just Kairav's cold corporate logic or Muskan's calculated betrayal of Abhinav's memory. The deepest cut was the undeniable truth of their accusation about her own name.

She had fought tooth and nail to retain Abhira Sharma in her law career, refusing to be known as Abhira Poddar. She had done it out of fierce loyalty to her father's memory and a desire to forge her own independent identity, separate from Armaan's family. But in this moment, Kairav and Muskan had weaponized that very loyalty, exposing her as a hypocrite.

Abhira, the fierce defender of her father's legacy, was herself unwilling to fully embrace her husband's name.

The realization was a bitter pill. She was demanding that the Goenkas honor her late father's name, while she herself was selective about honoring her living husband's. The Goenkas had not just erased Abhinav; they had also, through their cruel logic, forced Abhira to confront the inconsistencies in her own fiercely held principles, leaving her stunned and exposed.

Armaan Poddar approached Ruhi, starting his practiced "age old cassette" of obligation and sacrifice regarding his late brother, Rohit.

Armaan (Sighing heavily, his voice low and sincere):"Ruhi... tum kaisi ho? I know these events are always difficult. Seeingall this legacy... it just makes me miss Rohit so much more. He should be here,standing next to you. I remember the promise I made to him, to always protectyou and Daksh..."

Ruhi didn't wait. She turned on him, her cool exterior replaced by raw contempt, specifically recalling the painful, controlling period when she was carrying Maira, after Rohit had died tragically in the Gangaur blast during her first trimester.

Ruhi (Clapping back, her voice dangerously low): "Bas,Armaan! Stop running that casette of bhai-bhai love and promises! You talk about protection? Let's talk about how you protected me when I was carrying your daughter and had just lost my husband."

Ruhi: "You were obsessed and controlling, dragging methrough emotional torture! Remember when you snatched that bright yellow kurtaright out of my hands, saying the color was 'too distracting' for Maira, andforced me to wear those faded, dull dresses? You dictated every single detail,even the fabric I wore, because your own need for control was more importantthan my grief or my comfort as a surrogate!"

Her voice shook slightly as she delivered the final, mostpainful memory.

Ruhi: "And the babymoon! You and Abhira were romancing,making sure I was dragged along as the miserable third wheel the widowed surrogate while you made plans for your baby! That is how you protected me,Armaan? By humiliating me and making me feel like a walking incubator for nine months?"

She ended with a single, devastating question, her lips curling in disgust.

Ruhi: "Rohit taught us honor, Armaan. Do you reallythink he would want you to protect me with hands that are stained with kidnapping and deceit? Keep your promises to yourself, and keep your hands off my life. And one more thing. You talk about fulfilling Rohit's promise? Let me define your role clearly: You will never be a father figure in Daksh's life. You will maintain the distance and respect his father's memory deserves. You are nothing more, and nothing less, than Daksh's Tauji . Got it"

Ruhi: "Now, take your promises, take your guilt, and take your pathetic self-pity. Armaan, just F off."

Armaan visibly flinched, reeling from the sudden, decisive use of the vulgar term. Ruhi didn't wait for his reaction; she simply turned her back, leaving him standing there—shattered, exposed, and utterly dismissed amidst the glittering chaos of the Grand Ballroom.

Part 11 is out!

Good ab hypocrisy about her surname came out

I am slightly disappointed that ru called only ar out and not ab

But yes it was mostly him who troubled her and ab kept quiet

Even maira ..it seems ab is more interested in ar than her kid ..she does neglect the kid and left thenkid to study

Ruhi very good. Go for the throat lol. Each words are true

I think in so many ways bageera don't want poddar surname is because of her mother. For her abhinav is like a story. She didn't know him and by default don't know muskan too.

So abhir was raised by goenkas in this story. Good. The description of cultural program kairas performance was great.

Vidya is so low class lol what's that stupid taunt about sleevless blouse lol such a slum language that was

And if kaira aryan truth has come out it would be more drama lol