The Dr Kaira Chapter. - Page 9

Originally posted by: Phir_Mohabbat

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

He is still the same as in current track.I will explore abhir soon

Originally posted by: AnjuRish

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

Thoda wait karo.I will give all the scenes dont worry

Originally posted by: A_Star39

its abhir Sharma

He is still the same as in current track.I will explore abhir soon

So how did he make that connection with everyone in family?

In chapter 1 i guess bageera recently got to know about muh boli bua muskan what about abhir

Originally posted by: A_Star39

Part 9:The opening

The inner sanctum of the Goenka Villa’s master dressing wing had been meticulously transformed, not into a dressing room, but into the hushed, high-stakes backstage of a private runway show. The air was thick with the faint, expensive scent of Oud Wood by Tom Ford and the gentle whir of professional diffusers. Stylists, makeup artists, and hair architects moved with silent, focused precision, tending to the family as if preparing royalty for a coronation.

Muskan Goenka, standing before a mirrored console, was the epitome of inherited grace fused with modern allure. Her skin possessed the flawless patina of carefully preserved wealth. She was draped in a hand-dyedSabyasachi sapphire silk saree, the pallu flowing with liquid elegance. Theblouse, a sleeveless, deep-cut whisper of matching silk, highlighted her toned physique. Around her throat, a vintage Cartier diamond riviere glittered with cool fire, declaring a status untouchable by mere currency.

Kairav (His voice a low, approving timbre): "Muskan,you are magnificent. Tom Ford designed this charcoal grey bandhgala on your request.Thanks love."

In the adjacent area, Kaira was receiving the final touches.Her demeanor was clinical, focused entirely on the outcome. Her attire was a deliberate contradiction: a Manish Malhotra emerald green lehenga,structured like architecture, the traditional embroidery pared down to sharp,geometric lines. Her hair was pulled into a severe, powerful chignon,emphasizing the Hermès diamond studs she wore. She was armed, formidable, and entirely focused on the battlefield ahead.

Ruhi, the strategic weapon flown in from Tokyo, moved with the unhurried confidence of a global executive. She chose a breathtaking Tarun Tahilliani fusion gown a deep cranberry shade that flowed in structured pleats,a perfect visual metaphor for the Goenka blend of heritage and global reach.Around her wrist, the subtle, floral brilliance of a Van Cleef bracelet was theonly softness allowed.

Even nine-year-old Daksh was part of the sartorial defense.He stood patiently, enduring a final adjustment from his dresser. He wore anexquisitely tailored, cute navy-blue suit by Ralph Lauren, complete with aperfectly tied bow tie and crisp white shirt. The suit managed to look bothformal and entirely charming, a perfect miniature of his adult family members'elegance.

Daksh (Muttering to Ruhi, fidgeting): "Mumma, this istaking long. I think this jacket is too stiff for a gamer."

Ruhi (Smiling, adjusting his bow tie): "Patience, my dakshu maharaj. Today, we are not just attending an opening; we are presenting a flawless front. Every detail is strategy."

With a final check in the mirrors, the Goenka family,polished, powerful, and perfectly poised in their couture armor, descended thestaircase. They were ready to deliver their subtle, calculated message at theprestigious Naira Goenka Cultural Centre.

The Poddar Mansion was a hive of frantic, competitive energy. The house, overflowing with inherited wealth, felt like a pressurecooker as the family prepared for the evening.

Kaveri Poddar was seated regally, enduring the adjustment of her heavy, traditional maroon silk patola saree and antique gold jewelry, a fortune in tradition designed to project unchallengeable authority.Vidya, in her bright, slightly loud rani pink georgette, stacked diamond bangles, her eyes darting constantly, looking for flaws in the others.

Vidya (To herself, adjusting her heavy jhumkas):"Ruhi won't come here, and Muskan ji thinks she’s a queen. We shall see whose wealth shines brighter tonight."

Manisha, shimmering in gold and orange silk, fretted openly about the social stakes to her husband, Manoj, who simply adjusted his conservative suit and maintained a thoughtful silence.

Armaan, stiff and resentful in his sharp black suit, was shepherding his daughter, Maira. Maira (Pookie), dressed in a lace-trimmed gown that was perhaps too formal for her age, observed the high tension with a child's curious solemnity.

Abhira was dressing with strained focus, the deep red of her saree reflecting her internal "anger ka fever" over the insult of armaan, momentarily distracted by the family feud.

Aaryan Poddar looked immaculate in his charcoal grey suit,but his internal state was a storm of nerves. He was the only one in the room harboring the explosive secret, and the weight of the impending betrayal showed in the tightness of his shoulders. He kept his phone tucked low, sending a final, coded message to Kaira about his arrival time.

Aaryan (Muttering to himself): "Just a few more hours,and the die is cast. No one here suspects a thing..."

His sister, Kiara, dressed in an elegant silver lehenga,stood nearby,thinking about Abhir

Tanya Raizada Bansal, Krish’s wife, provided a bizarre,high-energy contrast to the surrounding gloom. She was bubbling with genuineexcitement to see her cousins, completely oblivious to the war footing.

Tanya (Bouncing slightly, adjusting her dramatic, modern dress): "This is going to be so much fun! I need to know all the Tokyo gossip from Ruhi, and Kaira hasn't seen my new diamond earrings! I just hope Krish doesn't sulk the entire time."

Krish Bansal, Tanya's husband and Kajal's son, was thepicture of resigned boredom. He stood by the main staircase, phone in hand,looking utterly disinterested in the entire affair. He was impeccably dressed,but his mind was clearly miles away from the social climbing.

Krish (To himself, scrolling his phone): "Another Poddar family event where the highlight is watching my mother and Vidya mami fight over who looks richer. Kill me now."

Kajal Poddar Bansal, Krish's mother, watched the scene witha practical eye. She was dressed elegantly but focused her energy on protectingher daughter-in-law from Vidya’s inevitable barbs.

Kajal (Guiding Tanya slightly away from Vidya): "Tanya,dear, let's wait by the door. And Krish, try to look marginally less annoyedfor your grandmother's sake. The Goenkas will be judging our entire clantonight."

The Poddars finally gathered in the foyer a dazzling displayof competitive wealth, strained smiles, and tightly held secrets ready todescend upon the Naira Goenka Cultural Centre, completely unaware that one oftheir own was about to detonate a strategic bomb.

The grand entrance to the Naira Goenka Cultural Centre wasawash in the blinding white light of a hundred camera flashes. A long, plushred carpet stretched from the imposing archway to the main doors, flanked byvelvet ropes and a buzzing throng of reporters, paparazzi, and eager onlookers.The air thrummed with the excitement of a high-profile event, graced bydignitaries, Rajasthan’s Chief Minister, prominent billionaires, leadingdoctors, influential artists, and even a smattering of movie stars.

The Poddar convoy pulled up first, their luxury sedans atestament to their wealth. Kaveri Poddar, in her formidable maroon silk, led the charge, followed by a glittering Vidya and a flustered Manisha. Armaan,Abhira, and the rest of the family trailed behind, ready to make their grandsocial statement.

As they stepped out, poised to stride onto the red carpet, aline of uniformed security guards—all under the Goenka payroll stepped forward.

Guard (Politely, but with unyielding authority):"Poddar family, if you please, could you hold back for a moment? The hosts are just arriving. We need to clear the carpet."

The instruction, delivered in front of the hungry press, wasa calculated public slight. Kaveri’s jaw tightened. Vidya’s smile froze.Armaan’s face flushed crimson. They were being made to wait—publicly—for theGoenkas.

Just then, a fleet of sleek, black Mercedes Maybachs glidedto a stop. A hushed silence fell over the crowd as the Goenka family begantheir entrance.

First to emerge were Kairav and Muskan Goenka. Kairav, inhis Tom Ford bandhgala, offered a regal nod to the cameras. But it wasMuskan who stole the show. Draped in her Sabyasachi sapphire saree, thesleeveless blouse accentuating her flawless form, she looked breathtakinglysexy and utterly untouchable. She moved with the poise of a queen, her Cartierdiamonds catching every flash, eliciting gasps and a flurry of frenzied clicks.They weren't just parents; they were icons of power and grace.

With one arm linked through Kairav's, she turned slightly,her profile breathtaking. Her eyes, however, subtly drifted past the cameras,past the cheering crowd, and landed directly on the clustered Poddar family,still held back by security.

A snobby, dismissive expression almost imperceptible to the cameras, but glaringly obvious to the Poddars flashed across her perfect features. It was a look that communicated utter disdain, a cold, silent reminder of their inferior status, held captive behind the velvet ropes. It lasted only a fraction of a second, her smile instantly snapping back into place for the cameras, but the message was delivered with brutal clarity. The gesture was so perfectly executed that only the Poddars, specifically Kaveri and Vidya, felt the full, icy force of it.

From behind the ropes, Kaveri’s eyes narrowed into slits ofpure, unadulterated fury. Vidya visibly flinched, her own pride momentarily shattered. Muskan had not just ignored them; she had actively, gracefully, and publicly put them in their place.

Next came Ruhi and Daksh. Ruhi, in her cranberry gown,radiated sophisticated cool, a true global elite. Beside her, nine-year-oldDaksh, utterly adorable in his custom suit, waved shyly at the cameras, meltinghearts instantly.

From behind the velvet ropes, Kaveri, Vidya, and ManishaPoddar watched, their jaws slack. The sight of Daksh, Rohit's son, lookingevery inch a Goenka prince, hit them with a wave of mixed awe and deep-seatedannoyance. Vidya’s face was a mask of furious, grudging admiration. EvenKaveri's formidable gaze held a flicker of surprise at their sheer, undeniablepresence.

Finally, the last car door opened, and Dr. Kaira Goenka madeher entrance. Dressed in the exquisite Manish Malhotra emerald green lehenga,her hair sculpted, her diamonds gleaming, she stepped onto the carpet with aneffortless aura of dazzling beauty and absolute confidence. Every head turned.The cameras went into overdrive. She wasn't just beautiful; she was a force ofnature, a vision of polished, intellectual allure.

Hidden within the Poddar group, Aaryan Poddar watched Kaira.His composure, usually so carefully maintained, slipped. A small, almostimperceptible smile touched his lips, a mixture of pride, awe, and a hint ofalmost giddiness. He saw her, not just as his fiancée, but as the dazzlingfuture he had meticulously planned. His cute reaction was a stark contrast tothe boiling resentment around him.

The grand auditorium of the Naira Goenka Cultural Centre wasless a hall and more a hushed, cavernous sanctuary, dedicated to the worship ofhigh art and high status.

The ceiling soared to an immense height, a vast dome ofpolished mahogany inlaid with shimmering, intricate bronze filigree. Suspendedfrom the very apex of this dome was a breathtaking custom-designed centerpiece:a monumental crystal and bronze chandelier, sculpted into the form of anabstract, inverted lotus. It cascaded thousands of facets of light onto thehall below, demanding all attention and symbolizing the purity of the art itwas built to house.

Below, the space was structured for maximum impact: Tiered seating swept dramatically toward the stage, while two colossal, cantilevered balconies jutted out gracefully, allowing guests a panoramic view of the entire scene.

The seating across all levels was upholstered in a custom-dyed, deep sapphire velvet that absorbed the light, giving the room a jewel-box quality. The walls were paneled entirely in exotic, oiled South Indian teak, painstakingly sculpted to optimize the sound.

Every detail from the weight of the imported Portuguese marble underfoot to the soft, golden light filtering through discrete alcoves declared the unparalleled wealth of the Goenkas.

Hundreds of dignitaries, draped in couture and diamonds,took their seats under the sweeping curves of the high ceiling. The lightingwas subtly theatrical, focusing attention entirely on the central stage.

The Poddars and Bansals were ushered to their reserved,prominent row. The moment the spotlight dimmed, the internal shock resurfaced.Kaveri Poddar sat ramrod straight, her expression carved from stone, unwillingto show her fury at the public slight. Vidya, next to her, vibrated withcontained resentment.

Abhira, catching her breath, felt the cold air pressingagainst her. It was a stark contrast to the stifling, often emotionally heatedenvironment of the Poddar house. The coolness here was the very essence ofGoenka power: untouchable, flawless, and utterly unforgiving. The internalshock from the red carpet was amplified by the realization that they were nowsitting in a Goenka temple, where the rules of engagement were entirelynon-Poddar.

The atmosphere turned reverent as the program commenced.Kairav and Muskan Goenka gracefully ascended the stage. Kairav lookedcommanding in his bandhgala, while Muskan’s sapphire silk caught thestage lights, embodying the quiet, absolute authority of the hosts.

Kairav's Opening Address

Kairav began his address, his voice warm and resonant,shifting seamlessly from corporate authority to deep personal emotion.

Kairav Goenka: "Friends, esteemed guests, welcome to the Naira Goenka Cultural Centre. This evening, we are not just opening abuilding. We are fulfilling a dream the dream of a little girl who grew up tobe a phenomenal woman, my mother, Naira Singhania Goenka."

His voice softened, drawing the audience in.

Kairav: " Maa was a dancer, an artist, a life force. She taught us that legacy is not measured in balance sheets, but in thebeauty you leave behind. This Centre, from its grand Naira Auditorium to thevery last practice room, is built to ensure that beauty and art flourish in Udaipur, in her memory."

He paused, a flicker of pride in his eyes.

Kairav: "This project, built in collaboration with thepeople of Rajasthan, is our family's promise to foster the arts, just as myfather Mr Kartik Goenka envisioned. Thank you for celebrating this deeplypersonal moment with us."

The applause was thunderous and heartfelt.

As Kairav and Muskan stepped aside, the Emcee returned, hisvoice booming with importance.

Emcee: "And now, to honor the Goenka family’s enduringcommitment to service and legacy, we invite the key pillars of this projectonto the stage. Please welcome the Hon’ble Chief Minister of Rajasthan, Smt.Meenakshi Rathore!"

The CM, a woman of sharp political elegance, took her place.

Emcee: "Joining her, we invite Ruhi Birla,Abhira Sharmaand Abhir Sharma! And representing the dedication of the next generation, weinvite Dr Kaira Goenka!"

The names echoed through the hall. Ruhi, Abhir, and Abhirawalked onto the stage, their presence a powerful declaration of the family’sunity and influence.

In the Poddar row, Vidya inhaled sharply, her facecontorting in undisguised fury.

Vidya (Hissing to Kaveri): "Abhira is up there? Abhir?And Ruhi? But not Armaan? The son-in-law? The damaad of this family?They have deliberately insulted him! They are treating Armaan like a secondaryguest! This is unbearable arrogance!"

Kaveri simply closed her eyes briefly, the public slightfueling her growing resolve.

Emcee: "And finally, we have one more surprise guest."

He paused dramatically, the stage lights shifting, bathingthe empty spot beside the CM in anticipation.

Emcee: "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome..."

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

Vidya should just keep her mouth shut

Oh how I loved Kaira putting Vidya in her place. That comment about sleeveless was totally uncalled for, but also the kind of thing Vidya would say and think herself to be correct.

This chapter 11 is really a treat to me .

Yeah ruhi you did great Armaan should continue to suffer more humiliation that's what he deserve

Originally posted by: Phir_Mohabbat

So how did he make that connection with everyone in family?

In chapter 1 i guess bageera recently got to know about muh boli bua muskan what about abhir

I should have made it clear.

Insulting poddars well done……

But i do not agree on erasing Abhinav part……that part could be written without showing it is like insulting Abhinav….

Originally posted by: A_Star39

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.

Wow..... The details are really ethereal

Sorry for late post.... Busy for sometime😔 with much works....

The details of the every event, dressings & performance is so elegant 🤗

Wow the Naksh Singhania the evergreen legacy boy is honoured is so classic of you which even the so called Paneer lacks in his own show...... Weird but I missed the vampire Goenka's a bit🤦

Poddar's beizzati is so entertaining Kairav& muskan slapping Gabheera with her own hyppocracy is so magnificent..🫣

Ruhi dropping truthbombs on Armoron was so good 😊 & lastly asking him stay away from Dakshu is so surreal &Master stroke which is🤩🤩😍😍🥳🥳 too good of you.....

Waiting for the revelations of how AbhiR met Kairav-muskaan & Rubhir meeting Birla's part.... Please try to include Nishta & Shivu in that....

If possible please try tribute "Neel Birla" in some way.... Ardent request🤗🥹

Overall your writing is so 👌👌👌 & cvs should learn something from you along with sada hua badi paneer 🤦‍♀️