Gone were the winds that sang the memorandum of cessation. Gone were the nights that wrote poetries of woe. The foundation which once supported the haunted obliteration of broken dreams started putting new bricks of hope. From the blossoming red rose in the well-mowed garden to the waving flag on highest minaret, everything seems as if born again.

From the bed chambers of her Palace, Vasundhara basked in ecstasy. The fragrance of night-blooming jasmine filled each corner with freshness. Joining her hands, she prayed to a rising sun to bring prosperity to her household. Before now, she scarcely smiled, mostly stretched her lips to please others, but after last evening, she has the reason to be at peace for once. Her son was going to get married again. Twirling gracefully on her feet, humming a familiar tune, she floats towards her bedridden husband, who was already looking at her from the corner of his eyes. Bending low, she kisses his forehead and using a sponge and warm water, cleans him.

"Good morning, my love. I hope you slept well. The sky is clear. Sun is bright. I should take you for a stroll in the backyard. I still couldn't believe that our son is getting married after all that's happened. I confess that I have forced him, but you tell me, how can one live their life alone. You always need a partner to share your feelings, someone you can lean on worst days. Gauri is a beautiful girl, both inside and out. Although she comes from a poor family, her heart is rich. I know you wouldn't approve of such relation, of bringing a girl from a lower class, but she is the one. I have this strong feeling."

A tear slipped from the corner of Raghuveer's eye. He has seen her cry on various occasions, complaining about fate and their son, but this morning as she spoke, a hope glimmered behind those lids. She wasn't speaking to soothe her heart. The confidence he only saw years ago oozed from her body. She was sure and he wished whatever had brought her this stability remains till the time lasts. He has given up long ago, the dreams of leaving this bed before death were broken. All he begged, for now, was the safety of his family from the sins that sucked the life out of this fort.

His mistakes have led to this misfortune.

His greed has brought him to this.

As she dressed him, his love for her increased more. Everybody left, she could've done the same but those stupid vows kept her here. Her belief in God kept her here. Years ago, when his father chose her to be his bride, he wasn't pleased. He wasn't ready to give up his player ways and settle down. He was the notorious prince of Rajwada, most handsome and clever. Princesses of various kingdoms drooled over his looks and carnality. He hated his father initially for binding him with this middle-class girl but with time understood her worth. Not only did she accept his flaws but held his hand in the worst time. He didn't deserve her.

Settling him in a sitting position, Vasundhara slowly fed him soup when the door to their chambers was knocked.

"Your highness, the king is here to see you."

"Let him in."

To say she was nervous would be an understatement. The fear of him fleeing from the wedding or calling it off escalated. She started to sweat and breathed uncontrollably. Raghuveer noted this. His heart clenched at the helplessness of being unable to console her.

The door opened and the majesty of royal household stepped inside.

Raghuveer's heart flooded with immense compassion watching his reflection gazing back at him, handsomely. Tall and prideful, just like him in his younger days.

"Good morning, mother, father."

The King greeted, his face refusing to break into a smile or possibly show any emotion.

"Good morning, son. Come here. Sit with us."

Vasundhara gestured towards a cushioned chair near the bed. Obliging, he immediately took the seat and squeezed his father's limp hand, only to feel a faint movement. His heart soared.

"I am here to address an issue. This morning I saw tickets for Switzerland. What's going on?"

Vasundhara sighed as she puts the bowl on a nearby table and wipes Raghuveer's lips with a tissue.

"I was thinking it would be good if you and Gauri spend some time together, get to know each other."

"That's out of the question."

Vasundhara's jaw clenched at the coldness he projected towards her. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself.

"I would like to know whatever wrong I've done to deserve this hatred from you. All I wish is your happiness so I could die in peace. We want you to move on from Kirti. She is gone now and believe me or not, but she would want you to be happy. Marrying a new girl only for the sake of traditions is unfair. It is not a child's play to get forgotten the next day. You will have some responsibilities. She deserves your respect."

"When have I ever disrespected a woman before."

"And I expect no less. Yagya, I am not asking you to jump into marriage bliss or sing songs of love. The girl is going to become your better half and she deserves to be addressed as such. With time, she will understand her position in the Kingdom and stand beside you, representing the house of Royals."

A moment of silence passed and the king rubs his forehead. The weight on his shoulders increased some more and he cracked his fingers.

"Let's make a deal. I will go through all rituals and help her settle in the palace if you drop your obsession with Switzerland. We are going to visit the family's deity in the middle of nowhere, isn't that enough?"

"Yaga..."

"Please, mother. Do not make this hard for me."

"Yagya, it is happening again."

Raghuveer stopped breathing. His throat constricted and eyeballs moved to a particular corner of the room. The one which must remain empty but is always occupied. Goosebumps erupted in his flesh as sudden coldness engulfed his frame. He heaved and gasped catching the attention of two.

"Father, what's wrong?" Yagya asked, sensing the rapid heartbeat. Rubbing his chest, he helps him lay back on the bed.

"Should I call the doctor?" Vasundhara feared the worst. She will surely break if God steals her husband now.

"I think he is troubled. It's okay, mother. He will be fine. You were saying something?"

Vasundhara wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead and gathered her thoughts.

"Yes, since we are moving forward with life, this time I don't want to keep anything from you. Do you remember how Kirti got locked in her room right after the henna ceremony and we weren't able to get her out for a long time? The same happened yesterday with Gauri. She still has chills. The door didn't budge and the mirror was cracked in the same fashion. It can't be a coincidence."

His fists tightened. Seriousness descended his brows. He stared at the woman, who suddenly looked older than usual. Exhausted. Fearful. Troubled. He wanted to hug her and assure how it was a mere concurrency, even after knowing it wasn't. The women in his life always got affected by his curse.

"Mother, I am sure it was nothing. Please have your breakfast and ask the manager to double the security around perimeter. I must take my leave now; a foreign clientele awaits me."

Vasundhara shook her head in disappointment. He was again planning on missing the other ceremony. But she could only ask so much from a reluctant groom.

"Alright, just don't leave the premises until the wedding. It is a bad omen."

Nodding, he left.

With exquisite chandeliers and fragrant blossoms gracing the mighty palace of royals, the glee on the faces of ladies smearing the would-be bride with customary scented turmeric paste was a sight to behold.

Amid giggling chaos, Gauri's heart was pondering about events that transpired yesterday. The night of henna ceremony danced in front of her eyes. The experience still sent nervous shudders down her spine. What was it that touched her? The stabbing pain in the gut was a dreadful remainder. Opening of brown eyes on the crimson smeared cracked mirror was a sight she would never forget. How can one imagine such things with a sound mind? She was so scared to use the loo this morning. As embarrassing it was, her mother stood right outside the slightly ajar door and kept talking gibberish to keep her distracted. She was scarred for life. The terror of silent bathrooms!

The trance broke when a concerned Rukmani squeezed her shoulder. Standing in front of the bride, the mother commenced her part of rite with graceful movements but her wrinkled forehead gave away her worries. She glanced towards her mother-in-law and a reassuring nod was enough to calm the storm brewing inside her. Dipping the unrooted grass in the bowl of turmeric paste, she rubs it against Gauri's cheeks, arms and legs before making the way for the next woman to repeat as such.

However, as the ceremony proceeded towards the end, the elderly ladies blessed the bride selflessly.

Vasundhara Devi blessed her daughter-in-law unreservedly with a drenched heart while maintaining the stoic mask. She wouldn't risk breaking in front of all these strangers today.

After that Gauri was brought inside 'Anter Mahal' that is the inner chamber for a milk bath as per traditions of a princess's wedding. She was seated in the middle of a spherical golden tub and then seven ladies of handsome fortune started pouring milk over Gauri, soaking every inch of her turmeric hued skin, which glistened like thousands of stars as the rays of setting sun illuminated the virgin during 'Gaudhuli bela' of sweetest faith. The 'Sapt Kanyas' (seven girls) bathing Gauri were chanting mantras and recipiency of 'Shudhikaran', eradicating unscrupulous stares.

Remembering the pious 'Panch Kanyas', one of the elderly women came forward to recite the importance of ritual.

"Ahilya Draupadi SitaTara Mandodari,

Panch knayah samara nityam mahapataknashini"

"Before marriage, during bathing the bride, Kunti's name is not included in Panch Kanya Smaran. Repression of her keeping quiet at the disgrace of a woman initially. Remember, dear child, generosity, and piety pay off only when your soul is guilt-free and hold justice in the highest regard. In happiness and disdain, may Goddess Durga conserve your virtue and your birth remain sans foes."

"Evmastu!" (So be it)

The color of henna which was so light yesterday was now in full vigor. Dark, lustrous. It stood out on her fair skin beautifully. Whoever came to see her took a double-take, speechless. Rukmani felt a little peace. It wasn't the wedding she imagined for her daughter, but it was more than enough. At least the entire family was here to witness this otherworldly union. The ceremony was kept private and short as per the king's request.

Letting the stylists take charge, Rukmani watched the entire transformation happening from the sidelines. How they moistened her face and tied her hair, how they draped her in most beautiful garments and tied precious accessories completing the look. She shined in gold. A vision beyond dreams. If Rukmani felt intimidated, she didn't show it.

Gauri on the other hand was lost in the predicament of upcoming events. When the women worked on make-up, she so wanted to snatch that brush and stab them in the eye. Thankfully they didn't lather her with numerous layers and kept it simple, gushing how beautiful she was. Her sweaty hands fidgeted on her lap all the time. When her mother came forward to help with the long drape, she held her hand tight before kissing it. A silent plea from a nervous heart. Rukmani smiled in assurance, gulping the tears of uncertainty. She has seen the king once, a remarkable persona of high born.

He was having a morning tea when she gathered the courage to approach him. Sensing her presence, he greeted her with respect and offered her tea. She didn't wait for him to start and cleared with bated breath what to expect of her daughter. She made him aware of the areas where Gauri lacked and had a strong grip on.

How her daughter never went for higher studies because of economic crisis but otherwise, was good in the kitchen, communicating and have knowledge of holy scriptures. He has listened patiently and, in the end, offered her a tissue. She didn't even know she has started to shed tears.

"I won't say that this will be easy on her. She will struggle initially to settle as any other girl. My mother already adores Gauri. If it's a consolation, I promise to protect her from any harm which comes her way and be with her at the lowest points. Your daughter will be cared for and loved."

The words were a miracle. He was a kind man- she gathered. Gauri will be happy with him. Naïve Rukmani smiled and thanked him.

Once the stylists left, Rukmani settled beside Gauri and caressed her face.

"I met your future husband this morning."

This caught Gauri's attention. She looked at her mother expectantly. Since her family was a strict believer in old traditions, she wasn't offered a chance to meet her groom or look at his picture. But her mother's words left her stunned. She was truly a lioness for caring less about traditions and more about her daughter's safety.

"He is a gentleman and talks less. Tall, tanned, and young. Only 24. You'll be happy, Gauri."

Gauri finally smiled and hugs the woman. At least she wasn't marrying a ghastly oldie who'd lust after her. So, her religious Mondays finally bore desired fruit.

A clearing of the throat caught their attention. The two broke the hug and found Sumitra entering the room with a cameraman. He was here to take a few shots of the bride but was left frozen on the threshold at the sight of new Queen. Approaching the duo, Sumitra pulled out her rosemary, the one she has been using to chant god's name for the past forty years, and made Gauri wear it. Astonished and touched by the gesture, the bride examines the rosemary.

"Grandma, why?"

"Clad in jewels, you ooze the aura of another royal about to lead a new life. So, I wanted you to have this to remind you of a firecracker you've been throughout. This is my most treasured jewel, dear. It is my blessing. My devotion to God. Keep it close. Always."

She nodded, happy to own something her grandmother held near. A knock on the door startled everyone. A brooding Ambika, dressed in white silk gazed at the bride.

"It is time."

For the love of...

Gauri screamed internally and stands rigid. One of her cousins breaks inside and hooted merrily. She helped Gauri with the dress and leads her towards the hallway where a small crowd awaited her. The wedding was held in the temple of Lord Mahadeva and Parvati, at the east corner of fort.

Rukmani lowered the heavy red drape to cover Gauri's face from curious eyes. In a palanquin, decorated with indigenous flowers, she was carried to the temple.

Raghuveer was sitting in the wheelchair and Vasundhara held his hand. Their attention was solely focused on their son who was performing rituals under the guidance of Priest Damodaran. He was wearing a white sherwani, something Vasundhara chose. She didn't want him to see any smallest thing which might remind him of the past. The colors were all different. Even Gauri was dressed in traditional red as compared to Kirti's designer pink and green. Gauri's wedding couture and jewelry belonged to Yagya's grandmother. Raghuveer immediately understood the importance of this girl after watching her entering the holy premises adorned in his mother's attire.

Yagya, who was silently following Damodaran's instructions stiffened when the familiar scent reached him. His jaw ticked and his body tensed. Fighting the intention to flee, he stayed put and with a hammering hand conducted the required. It will be over soon. Chanting the mantra, he sat straight when his bride arrived and gracefully took her place beside him. The red she wore called for his attention. From the corner of his eyes, he caught her henna-colored hands and then gawked at the fire. She wasn't sitting empty-handed. A sheathed dagger rested in them. His lips twitched in amusement. He didn't know brides also sat with swords or daggers like Kings or princes.

Sumitra smirked at a bewildered Vasundhara who was also staring at the weapon with hanging jaw.

"Why should boys have all the fun?"

The elderly woman barked in the audience causing the venue to erupt in laughter.

What they didn't know was that the pointy end, Gauri held for show was a defense against the evil obscured in darkness, away from unconscious eyes. Sumitra would be damned if somebody dared to destroy this beautiful day with their malevolent schemes. The iron which her granddaughter clutched belonged to Sumitra's grandfather- the great priest.

As the ceremony began, a shadow, unknow to open eyes, joyfully came into premises, the fear of God nowhere in sight. She danced around the holy settings where a groom will be tied to the bride. Outside, the clouds thundered, rumbling the ground beneath. Gauri jumped out of her skin at the first noise and felt chills seeping down her spine. When the priest asked them to hold hands for the next ritual, his rough palm engulfed her small one, sending bouts of warmth. She breathed through her mouth with a dried throat.

The ghostly spirit was ready to strike and jumped towards Gauri, fully intending of taking control of their lives. But God had different plans. He wouldn't let the history repeat, let alone someone hurt his true devotee. The dagger Gauri held shined under the glow of holy fire in mandap. The rosemary she wore acted like the shield of a thousand chants, an old widow snag in hopes of uniting with divine power someday. When the lightning struck in the night sky, the spirit was also jostled from its ire.

Gauri takes rounds around fire, her hand in her husband's, not in the spirits that glowered from the sidelines. Not this time. When Yagya filled vermillion on Gauri's forehead, Vasundhara smiled.