The morning sun bathed my face in its golden warmth as I opened my eyes, my heart already racing with excitement. Today wasn’t just any day—it was my wedding day. A day I had dreamed of, imagined a thousand times, but never quite like this. This was real, tangible, filled with the scent of fresh flowers and the sound of joyous laughter echoing around me.
My mother was the first to enter my room, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears and boundless love. She ran her fingers over my forehead, just like she did when I was a child, and whispered, “Today, you begin a new chapter, but you’ll always be my little girl.” I held her hand tightly, feeling the weight of her emotions mixing with my own.
As the place buzzed with the sounds of relatives, the clang of decorations, and the melodies of music playing in the background, I sat still while my mom and cousins draped me in a breathtaking red lehenga. The lehenga shimmered under the morning light, and the intricate embroidery told stories of tradition and heritage. The scent of sandalwood and roses from the floral decorations made me feel like a goddess from an ancient painting.
When the time came, my father held my hand as we walked towards the mandap, a sacred space adorned with garlands, flickering oil lamps, and fragrant incense. My groom stood there, his eyes soft and filled with love, dressed in an ivory sherwani, a deep maroon stole draped over his shoulders. Seeing him, my nervousness melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of belonging.
The rituals began, each one steeped in meaning, each mantra chanted by the priest resonating deep within my soul. The moment my groom tied the mangalsutra around my neck, I felt an indescribable warmth spread through me—an unspoken promise, a sacred bond forged in fire and faith. As we took the seven pheras around the sacred fire, I stole glances at him, memorizing the way he looked at me, his eyes brimming with unspoken vows.
Laughter and cheers erupted as my cousins playfully hid his shoes, demanding ransom in exchange. Even in the middle of all the sacredness, the atmosphere was light and joyous, filled with teasing, songs, and endless blessings.
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As I looked around, I saw my family, my childhood home, the people who had shaped me, and my heart swelled with gratitude. Yes, I was stepping into a new life, but I wasn’t leaving behind my past—I was carrying it with me, woven into my soul like the golden threads in my saree.
When the final ritual ended, and I turned to leave, my mother held me in a tight embrace, her tears finally falling. "Go with love," she whispered. I nodded, knowing that love was all around me—behind me, in front of me, within me.
This wasn’t just a wedding day. It was the beginning of forever.
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