Part 17C
Hui Mein Parineeta
Saturday 6 September
Desert Luxury Resort, Jaisalmer
5.00pm
Ishita woke up with a start. She must have fallen asleep during the spa treatment she realised, as she sat up, still dressed in a snowy white dressing gown. She felt refreshed and pampered, her skin soft and glowing, her nails gleaming, her hair falling in soft curls around her face
"Mere pati kahan hai?" She asked the attendants, who were busy with some garments in a corner. "mere pati" It was the first time she had addressed Raman as her husband, she realised, and the words gave her a thrill.
"Woh toh tayaar ho kar bahar chale gaye memsaab. Aap bhi ab tayaar ho jaiye." {He got dressed and went out ma'am. You should get dressed too}
"Theek hai" Ishita said. "Mein tayaar ho jaongi. Aap ka bahut Dhanyawad." {Fine, I'll get dressed. Thank you for your help}
"Hum aap ko tayaar kara denge memsaab" {We will help you get ready ma'am }
"Nahi, theek hai. Mein khud sari pehen loongi" {No that's fine. I can put on my sari}
"Sari nahi memsaab. Aap ke pati ne yeh Rajasthani joda kharida hai. Shaadi wala. Yeh dekhiye"
{not a sari ma'am, your husband bought you a Rajasthani set. A bridal one. Here, look at this}
Ishita looked on in wonder as the women brought some heavy red and gold garments and laid them on the bed.
The outfit consisted of a voluminous ghagra and a small choli, with a matching dupatta. Both the ghagra and dupatta were blood red, with hundreds, nay, thousands, of tiny pieces of glass stuck on in swirling patterns, embroidered in gold. The choli was a sleeveless wisp of gold fabric with one just button at the back to hold it all together.
The outfit was beautiful, and it was bridal. Ishita had loved the white and red sari that she had worn for her wedding, but this ... this was something out of this world, the sort of bridal outfit that little girls dreams were made of. And big girls too. She coloured deeply as she thought of his ordering this for her - what had been going on in his mind, she wondered? So he wanted her to dress as a bride for him? She would never have known her Raavan Kumar to be so sentimental, and she blushed as she remembered her first impressions off him. They had come a long way indeed - from hatred, to indifference, to friendship to desire, to love. And tonight, tonight was going to be the culmination of that love and that desire.
Ishita sat unresisting as the women first did her make up then helped her into the ghagra and then the choli. She could not wear anything under the choli and blushed at the way it revealed her contours.
The women smiled knowingly, then helped her to put on a heavy ornate gold necklace, which covered her neck and cleavage and allowed her a sigh of relief. The necklace was followed by matching jhumkas, a nose ring and an ornate maang tikka. Her Chooda covered her arms and her hands had been adorned with matching haath phool. A beautiful gold kamarbandh was slipped around her waist, and then payals and toe rings were placed on her feet, followed by bejewelled slippers. The whole outfit was topped off with the heavy ghunghaat, which covered her head and extended past her waist, blending in with her ghagra.
One of the women had been humming an old Rajasthani folk song and she sang it in full voice now, as she brought a mirror to Ishita. Ishita looked at her reflection and gasped.
Saj dhaj ke mein darpan dekhoon
Khud ki najar utaru re
Chath par bhaithi sajna
Tera pal pal rah niharu re
She looked every inch a bride, a radiant bride. Her make up had been done subtly, but her blushing cheeks and kohl rimmed eyes gave her a look of radiant expectation. The jewels that glittered on her face and body, the tiny mirrors that shimmered in the soft glow of the approaching dusk, the blood red colours that surrounded, covered and swirled about her.
She blushed and covered her face with her hands, as the woman sang on:
Ho meri galee mein, ho meri galee mein
Meri galee mein yeh sor macha re
Ke piya ghar aaya re
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Raman stood in the entrance way, watching his bride as she watched herself.
He saw the change of expressions on her face, the surprise, the wonderment, then the dawning shyness as she smiled at her reflection, throwing her hands over her face as she sat, her ghagra swirling around her like a Ruby flower against a cloudy sky.
He walked into the room, motioning to the two Rajasthani women to leave. They smiled and obliged and he was left alone, with his blushing bride.
He walked slowly towards the bed, as the sudden silence alerted Ishita to his presence. She tensed, and then slowly took her hands away from her face. Her eyes were closed and he marvelled at the perfection of her long lashes caressing her cheeks, as she slowly opened her eyes.
Their eyes met and held each other's as he approached closer and closer.
He was dressed simply in a white chikaan Kurta and loose Rajasthani trousers. His short hair lay close on his head and his freshly shaven face looked young and stress free. His dark eyes blazed with passion and infused his entire face with an intense longing.
Her smile faded and her lips parted as she saw the intensity on his face, but suddenly she was afraid no longer. She got up from the bed and stood before him, extending a hand to him.
He stopped just inches away from her, his eyes blazing fire as they hungrily drank in the sight of his bride. She felt as if she would melt, disappear in the heat in those eyes, and her own closed, her face flushed and her lips parted as she stood, her hand extended.
He took her hand gently in his, bringing it up to his face and sinking his lips on her palm. His eyes still on her face, he saw her bite her lips, her chest heaving as she struggled to control her breathing. He felt her hand tremble in his, her fingers tightening around his.
"Chalein?" he asked huskily. {Shall we go?}
Her eyes flew open.
"Kahan?" She whispered.{Where?}
"Come" he kissed her hand again and walked her to the entranceway, pride in every step at the beauty by his side.
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Ishita stood at the entrance looking out into the desert dusk, entranced. Raman stood beside her, his arm proprietarily around her waist, his fingers tightly entwined with hers.
The vista before them had been transformed into a desert fantasy - a seat made of cushions and bolsters on a carpet of dhurries lay empty, awaiting them, facing a tableau of some twenty Rajasthani dancers, who stood in formation, waiting for the signal to begin. Their garments were a riot of colour, a virtual kaleidoscope against the stark white sands of the desert.
Musicians sat around a small fire, also awaiting their cue.
Ishita dragged her eyes away from the sight before her, looking at the even more beloved sight of her husband.
"Raman" she whispered. "You did all this, for me?"
"I want to give you the world Ishita" he said simply, and tears welled in her eyes at the love in his voice.
"Shh, no crying, you'll spoil your make up" he ushered her towards their seat. "I asked them to send a photographer. Tumhari is rup ki nishaani chahiye mujhe" { I want a momento of this look of yours} his voice changed from playful to husky, sensual, and again Ishita could feel the rapid beat of her heart.
He led her to the cushions and helped her to sit, arranging her ghagra around her, taking his place beside her, his arm and hands always on her, protective, proprietorial . She was vaguely aware of a smiling young man with a camera taking photos, but she would not, could not look up at him or at anything else. Her eyes stayed on her husbands face, drinking him in, conscious only of him, and the touch of his hand in hers, the feel of his body pressing against her, as they sat close together in that rapidly cooling desert night.
Torches were lit around them and she snuggled close to her husband. She heard the music start, a plaintive ballad about love and longing, sung in a voice laden with pathos.
She had loved and she had lost, as had he. But then they had found each other, and she knew know why the others had to go from their lives - this was the truth, the soulmate that had been anointed for her, the one who would complete her journey.
The music changed, a more upbeat song about a lover returning home, about a woman dressing up for her beloved. The words of the ballad seemed to reflect her own heart as she watched the dancers twirl, their skirts billowing and swirling.
She glanced down at her hands, the glittering rings, the haath phool, and his hand in hers. She looked up at him and blushed. The was no mistaking what she saw in his face - he could not wait to make her his and she knew, without a doubt, that this was what she wanted too.
Sawaan ki rhimjhim ye bole
Milan ki rut ab aayi re
Saam dhale kholega ghunghta
Soch ke mein sarmayee re
Ho chanda ja ke tu
Ho chanda ja ke kahin pe tu chup ja re
Ke piya ghar aaya re
He caressed her face with gentle hands, and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. "Come" he whispered.
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They walked together into the tent, hand in hand as behind them the singers and dancers dispersed, leaving them alone in their little oasis.
There were a few soft lights on in the tent, lanterns which threw a gentle glow onto the jewel toned furnishings.
He led her inside the tent and then stood watching her, finally releasing her hand as they faced each other, their heartbeats the only sound that interrupted the silence between them.
He reached out and touched her nose ring, his hand moving on to her maang teeka, and then to her ghunghaat.
"May I" he asked softly
"Yes" she whispered, not knowing what she was assenting to.
The next moment she knew, as his hands unfastened the ghunghaat from the clips that held it to her hair, slipping it past her shoulders until it fell into a shimmering pool at her feet.
Her hair now twirled unburdened onto her back, caressing her face as it cascaded past her shoulders. He reached out his hand and twirled a lock in his fingers, gently placing it behind her ears.
"Jalan hoti hai" his voice was as soft as silk. {I feel jealous}
"Kis se?" She asked {of what?}
"Is se" he replied, pushing another strand behind her ears. "Kyunki yeh tumhari galoon ko chumti hai" {Of this. Because it kisses your cheeks}
"Aur is se" he gently removed her nose ring. "Kyunki yeh tumhari hoothon ko chuti hai" {And of this. Because it touches your lips}
Ishita shivered as his fingers traced a path around her lips, her hands moving without her conscious thought, clutching at his shoulders.
"Aur yeh" his long fingers played with her maang tikka, unattaching it, then sliding it down her face, gently teasing as he touched it to her lips. "Yeh mera raasta rokti hai" {And this. This stops me from reaching you}
"Raman" she whispered, melting into his arms.
Suhaag raat hai
Ghunghat utha raha hoon mein
Simat rahi hai tu sharma ke apni bahoon mein
He smiled in triumph and picked her up, her hands moving to encircle his neck, his holding her firmly to his chest. The silk of her brief choli rustled against his kurta as he carried her the few steps to their bed, laying her down reverentially amongst the rainbow of bolsters.
He stood and stared at her for a few seconds, drinking in her beauty.
She stared back at him mesmerised, as he pulled open the buttons on his kurta, shedding the garment before kneeling on the bed before her. She extended a hand to him, her lips parted, desperate to feel him, to taste his lips.
He took her hand, kissing each finger in turn as he removed her haath phool, pressing soft kisses on her palms as the jewels slid off.
She clutched at him with her now bare hands, digging her fingers into his hair as she pulled his head toward her.
"Kiss me" she whispered and he groaned and sunk his lips onto hers, teasing and cajoling, then pulling away as she pulled him closer.
"Raman, kya" she gasped, wanting more of him, a hunger she did not know was possible rising up within her.
He pulled her up with him until she knelt before him, with him, her head nestled in the nook of his neck, the silk of her choli rubbing against his bare chest. The friction sent waves of pleasure through her and she moaned softly, lifting her face to him, trying to pull him back down to her.
"Itni jaldi kya hai" he whispered. "Abhi toh mera kaam baaki hai" {What's the hurry. I have much left to do}
His hands moved to her back, snapping the sole button on her choli. She gasped as he slid the flimsy fabric off her, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he stared at the beauty he had uncovered.
"Ramann" she moaned, as he touched her tenderness for the first time, his hands gently exploring. Her arms were around his neck, her head thrown back, her hair streaming down. He followed his hands with his lips, kissing her softness as she writhed in his arms, before pulling her to him, her softness colliding with his hard chest. He captured her lips then, ravaging them with his mouth and tongue, his hands making short work of the rest of their clothes.
Her face was flushed, her hair in disarray and her kohl smudged eyes closed as he finally released her lips. She parted her bruised and aching lips as he looked at her and knew that she had never looked more beautiful than in this moment.
He gently caressed her face and then rained soft gentle kisses on her. "Are you okay, baby?"he whispered. "Yes" she whispered back.
"Then look at me please"
She opened her eyes then and saw the love in his.
"I love you" he told her, over and over as he pushed her back onto the pillows.
She lay back, defenceless, trusting, her arms around him, her heart in her eyes. She knew nothing but that she loved him. Felt nothing but the intensity of pleasure that his touch gave her. His eyes never left hers, as he took her mouth with his again, alternating between soft touches and demanding caresses. She kissed him back without inhibition, matching his ardor, straining closer and closer to him, until they had merged into each other, as one.
Hoonth tere meh ke pyaale
Kajra re naina tere
Maathe par sindoori subha
Zulfon mein raina basse
Sansein yeh teri hai
Dhadkan bhi teri hai
Jiwan yeh tera hua
Tere hi choone se
Tan man saja mera
Hui mein Parineeta
Part 17D Pyar hi Pyar Kiya
Edited by Veeann - 10 years ago
Jhanak
Shiv Shakti
11