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On August 1, Aarav vanished from public life, a move that stunned Bihar. No press conferences, no site visits to the Muzaffarpur airport or GangaGrid's rising eco-homes. The opposition, led by Vinod Rai, seized the moment, with Jan Vichar speculating, "Has Pathak fled under pressure?" On X, #WhereIsAarav trended, but Aarav, in Samastipur, was unperturbed, living as a groom-to-be. "Let them talk," he told Kajal over a call, his voice light. "This month is ours." Kajal, in Muzaffarpur with her parents, laughed, her heart racing. "You're dodging politics for me? That's a first." Their secret engagement, known only to their families, allowed them to focus on the wedding, planned for August 20 in Kamla's courtyard, a haven of simplicity.
Aarav stayed at Kamla's home, helping relatives prepare. The courtyard, shaded by a mango tree, was swept clean, a small pandal erected with marigold garlands and banana leaves. Kamla, though bedridden, oversaw details from her charpoy, her voice weak but commanding. "No fancy nonsense," she told Aarav's uncle, Ravi, who was stringing lights. "This is a Bihari shaadi—litti, love, and rituals." Aarav, carrying clay diyas, grinned. "Dadi, you're tougher than RAKSHAK." Kamla's laugh, frail but warm, filled his heart, though her coughing fits reminded him of her fragility. He knelt beside her, clutching her locket—the twin of his. "You'll see me marry, Dadi," he whispered, his eyes stinging. Kamla patted his cheek. "I've waited for this, beta. Your parents are smiling from above."
Kajal, in Muzaffarpur, prepared with her mother, Meena, and sister, Priya. Her lehenga, a deep red with gold embroidery, was chosen for its simplicity, reflecting her roots. Meena, stirring a pot of kheer, nodded. "You're marrying a CM, but this is our Kajal's day." Priya teased, "Didi, you're blushing like a schoolgirl!" Kajal's heart fluttered, memories of IIT nights with Aarav—debating, laughing, dreaming—flooding back. "He's always been my home," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.
The Rituals Begin
On August 18, the wedding rituals commenced, a family affair steeped in Bihari tradition. The Tilak ceremony took place at Kamla's home, with Kajal's father, Shyam, leading a small group from Muzaffarpur. Under the mango tree, Shyam applied a tilak of sandalwood and vermilion on Aarav's forehead, symbolizing the families' union. "You're not just our son-in-law," Shyam said, his voice steady but warm, "you're Bihar's son. Take care of her." Aarav, in a cream kurta, bowed, his locket glinting. "I promise, Uncle." Kamla, watching from a chair, her frail hands folded, whispered to Kajal's mother, "They're made for each other." Meena wiped a tear, nodding. Kajal, in Patna, felt a pang of absence, texting Aarav, "How's my groom holding up?" He replied, "Missing you. Dadi's stealing the show." Her smile was bittersweet, tradition keeping them apart until the wedding.
The Haldi followed on August 19, split between Samastipur and Muzaffarpur. In Samastipur, Aarav sat on a wooden stool in the courtyard, relatives smearing turmeric paste on his face and arms. His cousin, Anil, smeared extra on his nose, laughing, "CM sir, you're glowing!" Aarav chuckled, the paste cool against his skin, but his thoughts drifted to his parents. "Ma would've loved this," he told Ravi, his voice low. Ravi squeezed his shoulder. "They're here, beta." Kamla, brought outside on a cushioned chair, applied haldi with trembling hands. "You're my pride, Aarav," she said, her eyes glistening. "This haldi's for your happiness." Aarav hugged her gently, her frail frame a reminder of time's cruelty.
In Muzaffarpur, Kajal's haldi was a joyful chaos. Meena and Priya coated her in turmeric, singing Bhojpuri folk songs about love and harvest. "You're too serious, Didi!" Priya teased, splashing haldi water. Kajal laughed, her heart full, but her thoughts were with Aarav. "He's probably hating the mess," she told Meena, who smiled knowingly. "He's loving it because it's for you." Kajal's eyes welled up, her love for Aarav—a quiet flame since IIT—burning brighter. She texted him a selfie, her face yellow with haldi. "Your turn, CM!" Aarav's reply, a photo of his turmeric-smeared grin, made her heart skip. "Ready for you, Kajal."
The Wedding Day
August 20 dawned with a soft monsoon drizzle, the air thick with anticipation. Kajal's courtyard was transformed: a small mandap draped in marigolds, a havan kund at its center, and 50 chairs for family. No media, no politicians—just Aarav and Kajal's loved ones. Aarav, in a gold sherwani, felt his nerves jangle, his locket warm against his chest. He'd spent the month as a son, nephew, and groom, not a CM, savoring the simplicity. "This is what Ma and Papa wanted," he thought, their absence a dull ache. Kamla, dressed in a red-green saree, was carried to the mandap, her smile radiant despite her weakness. "My boy is a groom," she whispered to Ravi, who nodded, tears in his eyes.
Kajal and her family and a few cousins— waited for Baraat.Kajal's red lehenga shimmering, her eyes fixed on Aarav. As she stepped into the courtyard, their gazes locked, a decade of friendship and unspoken love culminating in this moment. "You look… perfect," Aarav whispered as she reached the mandap. Kajal's cheeks flushed under her veil. "You clean up well, CM," she teased, her voice trembling with joy.
The Jaimala began, with Aarav and Kajal exchanging garlands amidst family cheers. Anil lifted Aarav, Priya hoisted Kajal, making them laugh as they stretched to garland each other. Kamla clapped weakly, her eyes shining. "Like Vishnu-Laxmi," she murmured to Meena, who squeezed her hand. The Kanyadaan followed, Shyam placing Kajal's hand in Aarav's, his voice breaking. "She's yours now, Aarav. Love her always." Aarav nodded, his throat tight. "I will, Uncle. Forever."
The priest chanted mantras, the havan fire crackling as Aarav and Kajal performed the Saptapadi, seven steps around the fire, each vow binding their souls. "I'll stand by you, through every storm," Aarav whispered during the third step. Kajal's eyes glistened. "And I'll lift you, through every dream," she replied. The Sindoor ceremony was the most poignant: Aarav, his hand trembling, applied vermilion to Kajal's forehead, marking her as his wife. She closed her eyes, a tear slipping, her heart full. Kamla, watching, whispered, "My children," her voice barely audible, her locket clutched tight.
The Farewell and Return
After the wedding, the Vidaai was intimate, Kajal hugging her parents in the courtyard. Meena sobbed, "You're our pride, beta." Kajal, tears streaming, clung to Priya. "Visit me, okay?" she whispered. As she left with Aarav, the family showered rice, their blessings mingling with the rain. Kamla, carried back to her room, held Aarav's hand. "You've given me everything," she said, her voice frail. "Live happily, beta." Aarav, choking back tears, kissed her forehead. "This is for you, Dadi." Kajal knelt beside her, now Kajal Pathak. "We'll make you proud, Dadi," she said, her voice thick. Kamla smiled, her eyes closing. "You already have."
For a week, Aarav and Kajal stayed in Samastipur, living as newlyweds. They walked fields, shared litti-chokha, and laughed over old IIT memories. Aarav's mind and heart was a whirlwind of joy and loss: "She's my home, my strength. Ma, Papa, you'd love her. Dadi, you made this possible." Kajal's was equally raw: "He's my partner, my love. I left US, but found my heart here." Their nights were quiet, hands entwined, the locket a symbol of their shared past and future.
On August 31, Aarav returned to Patna, ready to face Bihar. At a press conference, he stood with Kajal, now Kajal Pathak, their hands clasped. "I took a month to live as a man, not a CM," he said, his voice steady. "Kajal and I are married—a simple Bihari wedding, no media, just family. She's my partner in life and Bihar's progress." Kajal, in a saree, smiled. "I'm here for Bihar, as always." The crowd roared, #AaravKajal trending on X. Vinod Rai's opposition faltered, their smear campaigns drowned by public joy. In his office, Aarav touched his locket, Kajal beside him. "We're just beginning," he said. She nodded, her eyes bright. "Together."
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Author's Note: - 1000+ Words
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