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Because I needed to have Manto Singh tracked down. Immediately.
CHAPTER 17
DIYA
Igrowled under my breath as he made his escape with a quick wink at me.
And instead of chasing him down and making it quite clear that he was not accompanying me on my work trips, I had to stay put so that the henna artists could get started with my stick-on tattoos.
“Do they have any stickers with the letters of the alphabet? They can cut those up to spell Dheer’s name and hide them in the main design,” suggested Isha, as she came to sit with me.
“Why would I want that?”
“It’s a game couples play on their wedding night. Unless you have spicier games planned for him,” she teased.
My face flamed at the thought of our wedding night. Ohmigod! This was really happening! I was getting married tomorrow morning! And then I was going to move into Dheer’s bedroom., and live in Trikhera Palace for the near future I began to hyperventilate at the thought of my life changing so drastically within a few days. This was not what I had in mind when I set out to visit Ayush’s family.
“Isha, the Goels have been suspiciously silent for the past couple of days,” I whispered.
“Eww! Why are you thinking about them when I’m talking about your wedding night?”
“You don’t worry about my wedding night. Just tell me if you’ve heard something about the Goels,” I scolded.
She sighed heavily and picked some dried mehendi off her hands.
“They might have backed down after they heard about the wedding.”
“Hmm,” I replied thoughtfully.
“I don’t trust the look on your face. Diya, please promise me you will let the matter rest if they agree to leave you alone,” she begged.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said blandly, and she shook her head in disgust.
“Babe, I’ve known you since we were babies. I’ve helped you break out of our boarding school to go watch movies. I was right there with you when you snuck boys into our common room at school after our first co-ed dance. I used to help you sneak out to meet Dheer in the garden when you were a teenager. So I recognise that look on your face. You’re up to something. And I don’t like it because this time you won’t just get in trouble with the nuns at school. You might die or get us all killed.”
“I will do nothing of the sort, I promise. Now hush before my mother hears us.”
She shook her head and went off to check if her mother needed her help, while my Baba sat with me for a bit. He wanted to know if I was really happy with this marriage. I hastened to reassure him that I was but he didn’t look too convinced.
“Don’t believe for one minute that I can’t protect you, beta. I wish you hadn’t allowed these people to hustle you into such a quick wedding. But if it is what you want, then go ahead with my blessings. And remember that you’re always welcome to come back home if you need to. I’m still not sure about Dheer’s intentions because I can’t forgive him for how he treated you the last time. I’m not convinced he deserves my little princess,” he grumbled, as he gave me a tight hug.
I spent a restless night, plagued by the memory of the woman who had been killed so brutally. I kept seeing her fall off the terrace, but in my dreams, she held my eyes and called my name as she fell, as if she was telling me to do something.
I woke up heavy-eyed the next morning, but I had no time to brood because my mother hustled me into the bathroom for a long hot shower before I had to sit for hair and makeup. Dheer’s great-grandmother’s saree looked beautiful on me, and my mother was misty-eyed as she placed a kaala-teeka behind my ear to ward off the evil eye.
When Baba and Veer led me to the small wedding mandap, Dheer was already waiting for me, looking every inch the Maharaja in his bandhgala that matched the dark rose of my saree. We stared into each other’s eyes, our garlands in hand as the priest recited some shlokas. I used to dream about this moment before he broke my heart. And afterwards, this scene used to feature in my nightmares where that woman would turn up on our wedding day and claim to be his wife just as he was about to put the varmala around my neck. I wanted to be happy today, but all I was was conflicted.
When the priest asked us to put the varmalas on each other, Dheer smiled at me.
“I know we aren’t doing the traditional pheras, Diya, but I promise to do my best to keep you happy for the rest of my life,” he whispered, as our families cheered around us.
“I wish I could believe that,” I whispered back.
According to tradition, the bridegroom had to pull away and make it really difficult for the bride to garland him to show that he wasn’t going to bend to his wife’s demands and turn into a joru ka ghulam, but Dheer bent his head very respectfully and allowed me to garland him.
There were tears in my eyes as I put the varmala on him, and I wasn’t sure if they were tears of joy or sorrow. Maybe they were a mix of both because this was definitely a bittersweet moment.
The varmala was a short ceremony, but the rest of the rituals ate up most of the day. First, I had to accept my responsibilities as the new Maharani of Trikhera before the traditional grihapravesh at the palace. Isha and Padmini Aunty led me to Dheer’s room, the magnificent Maharaja Suite, where the butler was waiting for us.
