Aadya pov
I hurried down the stairs, the saree swishing slightly around my ankles. I entered the kitchen and saw my mother-in-law and several other women waiting.
The sight of them all, their eyes on me, made my stomach clench. I felt a blush creep up my neck. "I'm so sorry," I stammered, breathless. "I'm late."
Aunt Maya, never one to miss an opportunity, pounced. "My, my," she drawled, her voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm. "Look who finally graced us with her presence. We were starting to think the pehli rasoi was going to cook itself."
A few of the other women tittered, and I felt my cheeks burn.
My mother-in-law, thankfully, stepped in. She gave Aunt Maya a pointed look before turning to me with a warm smile. "Nonsense, Maya," she said firmly, but her voice was gentle.
"Aadya, you're here now, and that's what matters. These things happen. Come, come, let's get started. Everyone's eager to see what culinary magic you're going to create for your pehli rasoi."
She placed a reassuring hand on my arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. Her touch, her smile, was like a balm. I took a deep breath, the knot of anxiety in my stomach loosening slightly. I was grateful for her support. It made facing Aunt Maya, and the daunting task ahead, a little less terrifying.
Pehli rasoi. My first culinary test in this new family. The pressure was on. I glanced around the kitchen, taking in the array of ingredients laid out on the counter. After a moment of thought, I made a decision. I wanted to start this new chapter on a sweet note.
"I… I think I'll make sheera," I announced, my voice a little steadier now. "It's simple, but it's sweet, and I think it's a good way to begin." A warm smile touched my lips. Sheera, a classic Indian dessert, seemed like the perfect choice. It was familiar, comforting, and most importantly, it symbolized sweetness and new beginnings. It felt right.
My mother-in-law beamed at me. "That's a wonderful idea, Aadya," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Sheera is a perfect choice. And listen," she continued, gesturing around the spacious kitchen, "this kitchen is yours now. Do whatever you like. Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything at all. I'm here to help, along with everyone else."
She gave me an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "I can't wait to taste your creation," she added, her voice filled with genuine anticipation. Her words were incredibly reassuring. It was clear she wanted me to feel comfortable and at ease. It made the whole pehli rasoi ordeal feel a little less daunting.
"And one more thing, Aadya," my mother-in-law added, her voice softening. She took my hand in hers, her touch warm and comforting.
"About how you address me… please, call me Maa, or Mumma, or whatever you feel most comfortable with. There's no need for formality. I'm your mother now, and I want you to feel like this is your home."
Her words were so genuine, so full of warmth, that they brought a lump to my throat. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to me. It solidified the feeling that I was truly part of this family, not just a new bride, but a daughter.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I turned to my task. I gathered the ingredients, the familiar scents of cardamom, ghee, and sugar filling the air. I began to prepare the sheera, carefully following the recipe my own mother had taught me.
She had always said that the key to a perfect sheera was patience and love, and I poured both into my creation. I stirred the simmering semolina, watching as it transformed into a golden, fragrant mixture. The rhythmic clinking of the utensils, the gentle sizzle of the ghee, the sweet aroma… it was all so comforting, so familiar.
As I worked, my thoughts drifted to my own mother, and I hoped, more than anything, that I could make her proud. I also couldn't help but wonder what everyone would think of my first attempt.
Would they like it? Would it be sweet enough? Too thick? Too thin? A million little doubts flitted through my mind. But I pushed them aside, focusing on the task at hand, hoping that the love and care I put into the sheera would shine through.
The sheera was finally ready. A rich, golden brown, it shimmered invitingly in the serving dish, the aroma of cardamom and roasted nuts wafting through the air. Taking a deep breath, I carefully carried the dish towards the dining table.
My heart pounded with anticipation. As I approached, I saw everyone was already seated, waiting for me. My father-in-law smiled warmly, and then I saw Reyansh.
He was sitting near the head of the table, and as our eyes met, he gave me a small, reassuring nod. It was a simple gesture, but it calmed my nerves instantly. It was as if he was saying, "You've got this." His support meant the world to me. I placed the sheera on the table, a nervous smile playing on my lips. The moment of truth had arrived.
I served the sheera to everyone, my hands slightly trembling. I watched their faces as they took their first bites, my heart pounding in my chest. The silence that followed felt like an eternity.
Then, my father-in-law, Dad, as I was starting to think of him, smiled warmly.
"Wah, Aadya," he said, his eyes twinkling. "This is delicious! Just like my mother used to make. You've truly captured the essence of a perfect sheera."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, beautifully wrapped box. "This is for you," he said, handing it to me. "A small token for your pehli rasoi." I was touched by his gesture.
My mother-in-law, Mumma, echoed his sentiments. "It's wonderful, Aadya," she said, her voice filled with genuine praise. "You have magic in your hands. This sheera is simply divine." She, too, presented me with a gift, a delicate silver bracelet.
"Welcome to the family, beta," she said, her eyes shining with affection.
Aunt Maya, ever the pragmatist, simply said, "It's… okay." Her lukewarm response, while not exactly enthusiastic, was better than outright criticism, I supposed.
I offered a polite smile, just happy that the overall reception was positive. The gifts, the kind words, the smiles… it was all so much more than I had hoped for. My pehli rasoi, despite the initial jitters, had been a success.
As the compliments and gifts were being showered upon me, Aahana, my ever-observant sister-in-law, turned to Reyansh with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"So, Bhai," she teased, her voice laced with playful sarcasm, "how's the sheera? Up to your discerning standards, I hope?" She paused, then added with a sly smile, "And more importantly, what grand gift have you chosen for our talented Bhabhi on her pehli rasoi?" Her question hung in the air, drawing everyone's attention to Reyansh.
Reyansh, caught slightly off guard by Aahana's teasing, shifted a little in his seat. He looked at me, a warm smile gracing his lips. "The sheera is… excellent," he said, his voice a touch softer than usual.
He paused, his gaze lingering on mine for a moment, before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small velvet box and, with a slightly shy smile, handed it to me. "A small token," he murmured, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.
I opened the box to reveal a beautiful ring, its delicate design catching the light. It was simple yet elegant, and it took my breath away. I looked up at him, my heart swelling with warmth.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. It was more than just a gift; it was a symbol of his acceptance, his appreciation, and his love.
The ring ceremony, a playful post-wedding ritual, was next on the agenda. A large bowl filled with milk and rose petals was placed on the table. "Alright, lovebirds," Aahana announced, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Let the games begin!"
Reyansh and I dipped our hands into the fragrant water, our fingers searching for the elusive rings. The playful competition began, each of us trying to outsmart the other. "I think I've got it!" I exclaimed, my fingers closing around a smooth, round object.
But just as I was about to pull it out, Reyansh's hand darted in, intercepting mine. "Not so fast," he said with a playful grin. "I think this one belongs to me." We tugged and pulled, our laughter echoing through the room.
The playful banter continued, filled with teasing and laughter, until finally, Reyansh emerged victorious, holding up the ring with a triumphant grin. "I win!" he declared, his eyes twinkling.
"Prepare to be amazed by my skills, my dear wife," he added with a playful bow. I couldn't help but laugh.
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