All characters are 18 or older
In the bustling city of Delhi, at the peak of the Mughal Empire’s grandeur, a story of love and destiny unfolded. The air was thick with the aroma of spices, and the vibrant tapestry of cultures woven together in the heart of the city was a testament to its rich history.
In the heart of the market district, nestled between the labyrinthine alleys, stood a modest cloth store owned by Kabir, a young and dashing Muslim merchant. His shop was renowned not only for its exquisite fabrics but also for his unassuming demeanor and kind heart.
One sun-kissed morning, as the bustling market came to life, the melodious sounds of the city echoed through the streets. Amidst the vibrant tapestry of colors and cultures, a figure stood out. It was Divya, a graceful Brahmin young woman with a radiant smile that seemed to light up even the brightest corner of the market.
Divya had heard about Kabir’s shop from a friend, and her curiosity led her to its doorstep. As she entered the store, her eyes were met with a kaleidoscope of colors, fabrics draped like dreams around the room. Kabir stood behind the counter, a hint of awe in his eyes as he beheld Divya’s ethereal beauty. Her presence seemed to infuse a new magic into the air.
Their gazes met, and time seemed to stand still. Kabir was taken aback by Divya’s elegance, her deep eyes that held the wisdom of ages, and the grace with which she moved. Divya, on the other hand, was captivated by Kabir’s striking features, his warm smile, and the humility that radiated from him.
As Divya explored the fabrics, Kabir’s eyes followed her every move, his heart pounding like the rhythms of a love song. He approached her with a respectful bow and offered his assistance. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, as if they were old friends catching up on tales of the past.
Their gazes met, and time seemed to stand still. Kabir was taken aback by Divya’s elegance, her deep eyes that held the wisdom of ages, and the grace with which she moved. Divya, on the other hand, was captivated by Kabir’s striking features, his warm smile, and the humility that radiated from him.
“Welcome, honored guest,” Kabir said with a graceful bow. “It’s a pleasure to have you in my humble store.”
Divya smiled in response, her eyes wandering over the exquisite fabrics displayed around her. “Your reputation precedes you,” she replied. “I’ve heard wonderful things about your shop.”
Kabir’s face lit up with pride, and he began to display different fabrics, each more beautiful than the last. “Please, allow me to show you our finest pieces,” he said, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.
As Divya touched each fabric, Kabir shared stories of their origins, their craftsmanship, and the inspiration behind their creation. He effortlessly wove tales that made each piece come alive. Time seemed to lose its meaning as Kabir’s passion for his craft and his genuine desire to serve his customers captivated Divya’s heart.
She admired his attention to detail and the care he took in understanding her preferences. However, Divya was known for her discerning taste, and she carefully examined each fabric, occasionally expressing her reservations.
Undeterred, Kabir continued to present cloth after cloth, his salesmanship a dance of persuasion and grace. With every roll of fabric, he unrolled it with grace and ballet like moves right before her, he shared stories that resonated with Divya’s sensibilities. He showed patience beyond measure, his dedication to satisfying her needs evident in the way he listened and adjusted his offerings.
As the sun began to set and the market gradually quieted, Divya finally found herself surrounded by a stunning array of fabrics that met her exacting standards. But she struggled making a selection. She looked at Kabir with a mix of admiration and gratitude. “You’ve been incredibly patient with me,” she said.
Kabir smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting his sincerity. “It’s been an honor to serve you, Miss. Your satisfaction is my utmost priority.”
“How do you know I am a Miss?” she asked, putting him on the spot. “It could be the missing ring or just your innocence that gives it away Madam.” So now I am a Madam, what makes you say that?” “Your eyes, your lips.” And he laughed and she followed suit.
Kabir, the dashing Muslim merchant, had found his heart captivated by Divya’s beauty and grace. Each encounter in his cloth store felt like a fleeting dream. Kabir’s curiosity was fueled by his growing affection, and he couldn’t shake the desire to learn more about the enchanting Brahmin woman. He asked discreet questions, navigated conversations delicately, and pieced together tidbits of information until he discovered Divya’s identity – she was the daughter of the high Brahman priest.
Days passed and with this newfound knowledge, Kabir felt a mixture of elation and trepidation. He knew the barriers their different backgrounds presented, but his heart urged him to persevere. Determined to express his feelings, Kabir penned his thoughts in a heartfelt letter, a silent confession of his admiration and love.
Days passed, and Divya received the letter. As she read Kabir’s words, her heart swelled with a mixture of emotions. His sincerity and earnestness touched her deeply, but she knew the complexities that lay ahead. In her response, she poured her heart onto the paper, expressing her own feelings for Kabir but also acknowledging the societal expectations and the challenges their love would face.
She wrote about her role as the daughter of the high Brahman priest, the traditions that bound her, and the skepticism that surrounded relationships between people of different faiths. She confessed her fears that their love might be thwarted by circumstances beyond their control. She ended her letter with a heavy sigh, the weight of their situation palpable in her words.
Kabir received Divya’s letter with a mix of hope and despair. He understood the gravity of their circumstances, the chasm that divided their worlds. But Kabir was not one to be easily discouraged. His love for Divya had grown stronger with each passing day, and he was determined to fight for their love.
With the letter in his pocket and unwavering resolve in his heart, Kabir embarked on a mission to see Divya. Armed with only the knowledge of her general whereabouts, he navigated the narrow streets of Delhi until he found himself on a rooftop overlooking a bustling intersection.
Hidden from view, Kabir watched as Divya and her friends moved gracefully through the crowd. He admired the way she carried herself, her radiant smile, and the effortless elegance that seemed to be a part of her very essence. His heart swelled with a mixture of longing and determination.
As the days turned into weeks, Kabir’s clandestine rooftop visits continued. He observed Divya’s routine, her interactions with others, and the moments when her eyes would gaze wistfully at the sky. He felt a profound connection with her, a silent understanding that transcended words.
Through rain and shine, Kabir remained steadfast in his vigil, each stolen glimpse of Divya a reminder of the love that bound their hearts. He longed to bridge the gap between their worlds, to prove that love was strong enough to overcome the barriers that society had erected.
One fateful evening, as the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, Kabir found himself lost in his thoughts while perched on the rooftop. Unbeknownst to him, his presence had not gone unnoticed. A group of bystanders had caught wind of his secret visits and, fueled by gossip and prejudice, began to assemble below.
As the murmurs grew louder and more accusatory, Kabir’s heart raced. He realized that he was trapped, caught between the love he held for Divya and the harsh reality of a world that often resisted such unions. The crowd below was growing in numbers and anger, their intentions becoming clear.
Divya, however, was not oblivious to the commotion. Word had reached her about the unfolding scene, and her heart clenched in fear for Kabir’s safety. Without hesitation, she rushed to the scene, her heart pounding with a mixture of determination and anxiety.
Pushing through the gathering crowd, Divya’s presence commanded attention. Her grace and poise were juxtaposed with the fierceness in her eyes, as she demanded to know what was transpiring. The onlookers hesitated, their surprise evident, as Divya’s words held authority.
“What is the meaning of this?” Divya’s voice rang out, carrying a command that brooked no argument.
A voice from the crowd, tinged with anger and judgment, responded, “We’ve caught this Muslim man spying on you, Divya. He’s been invading your privacy, and we won’t stand for it!”
Divya’s gaze shifted to Kabir, who stood on the rooftop, looking down with a mixture of guilt and desperation. The truth weighed heavily upon her heart – her secret admirer was Kabir, the man who had captured her heart.
Her resolve solidified as she stepped forward, her voice unwavering. “This man is no stranger to me. He is Kabir, a merchant of integrity and a person of kindness. He means no harm, and I am not averse to his presence.”
The crowd’s anger didn’t dissipate easily. Accusations and angry voices persisted, fueled by deep-seated prejudices and societal norms. Divya, however, held her ground, her conviction unwavering.
“He’s a Muslim!” someone shouted, “pull his Dhoti down and see if he is circumcised?” Divya ran infant of him, and with her back towards Kabir, she said, “I am the one who you say has been wronged, isn’t it?” They all nodded in unison. “Then let me be the one who checks if he is circumcised or not.” The crowd started to applaud. “Then she put out her hand to his, and said, “well we can’t embarrass you in front of everybody, come and show me behind that wall.” And she pointed to a secluded area. After a few minutes she returned with him, sorry to disappoint you, but he isn’t circumcised.” The crowd let out a dismay. “I am the daughter of the high priest; you do believe me don’t you.” They reluctantly nodded. “Then go home” and with that they disbanded.
Divya’s gaze remained steady as she addressed the crowd. “Love and respect for one another know no boundaries of religion or caste. It is our actions and intentions that define us. Circumcised or “not.”
Her words resonated in the air, casting a quiet spell over the gathering. Divya’s sincerity, combined with the depth of her feelings, had a profound impact on the crowd. The realization that their high priest’s daughter was advocating possibly for a Muslim man was painful but it defused the hostility.
Slowly, the voices softened, replaced by contemplative silence. Divya’s bravery had managed to challenge the crowd’s prejudices and make them question their own assumptions.
The scene that had been on the brink of turning into a violent mob was diffused by Divya’s courage and conviction. She extended her hand towards Kabir, their eyes met and the love and respect that Kabir had for Divya was reflected without words, and a shared understanding passed between them.
It was challenging for Kabir to meet up with Divya so he used a friend of his to take and receive messages between them.
One crisp morning, Divya came to his store. He put a large cloth on the entrance to show they were closed and asked a neighbor to keep an eye. With a smile playing on his lips as he extended his hand toward her. “Shall we, Divya?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.
Divya’s heart raced as she placed her hand in his, a sense of excitement mingled with a flutter of nervousness. Kabir’s confidence and warmth were infectious, and she felt a sense of adventure brewing in the air.
Their tour of Delhi began with a visit to the iconic Red Fort, a magnificent structure that stood as a testament to the glory of the Mughal dynasty. As they walked through its intricate archways and expansive courtyards, Kabir shared stories of the emperors and their reigns, his words painting vivid pictures of the past. Divya listened intently, captivated not just by the history but also by the way Kabir’s eyes lit up with passion.
Their playful banter turned the tour into a delightful flirtation. Kabir would exaggerate stories for dramatic effect, and Divya would respond with playful skepticism, her laughter echoing through the historical halls. Amidst the awe-inspiring architecture, they found moments of connection that transcended time.
After their tour of the Red Fort, Kabir led Divya through the bustling streets of Delhi, stopping at street food stalls that promised a sensory explosion of flavors. As they indulged in local delicacies, Divya’s eyes widened in delight with each bite. The mingling aromas of spices and the vibrant colors of the food seemed to mirror the array of emotions swirling in her heart.
Kabir watched with a mixture of pride and satisfaction as Divya savored the street food. Her enthusiasm and appreciation for the simple pleasures of life resonated with him, reminding him of the kind-hearted woman he had fallen in love with.
Amidst bites of chaat and sips of sweet lassi, their conversations took a more personal turn. They spoke of their dreams, their fears, and the moments that had defined their lives. With every shared story, their connection deepened, and the invisible thread that bound them together grew stronger.
As the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow over the city, Kabir and Divya found themselves on a rooftop terrace with a panoramic view of Delhi’s bustling streets. The city’s heartbeat echoed in the distance, a reflection of the rhythm that had come to define their relationship.
With the city as their backdrop, Kabir turned to Divya, his eyes earnest. “This city holds a thousand stories, but the one I cherish the most is ours, Divya. Our journey, our trials, and the moments we’ve shared today – they’ve etched themselves into my heart.”
Divya’s heart swelled with emotion as she looked into Kabir’s eyes. “Kabir, you’ve shown me a world beyond the confines of tradition and prejudice. Our love, though unconventional, feels like the most natural thing in the world.”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kabir reached for Divya’s hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. The city lights began to twinkle like stars, casting a romantic glow over their rooftop haven. He escorted her to the outskirts of her neighborhood and left.
On a sunlit morning, a gentle breeze wafted through the market district as Kabir prepared to open his shop. The familiar melodies of the bustling city greeted him as he arranged fabrics with practiced precision. As he arranged a collection of stunning wedding clothes, a sense of anticipation hummed in the air.
Moments later, a group of women entered the store – Divya, her mother, and her sister. Kabir’s heart skipped a beat, his eyes drawn to Divya’s somewhat muted smile. He greeted them warmly, his composure hiding the unexpected flutter of nerves.
Divya’s mother and sister began to browse through the fabrics, discussing colors and designs with Kabir. Divya’s presence, however, was a magnetic force that commanded his attention. As he approached her, he couldn’t help but notice the blush that graced her cheeks, a hint of sadness and her lack of eye contact.
“May I help you find something specific, young ladies?” Kabir inquired, his voice soft and genuine.
Divya met his gaze, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of emotions. Her mother spoke up “We’re looking for wedding clothe.,”
Kabir’s surprise was masked by a professional smile. His “heart began to beat faster. Wedding clothes? Who is the lucky bride, if I may ask?” he managed to say, his curiosity piqued.
With a hint of sadness in her eyes, Divya responded, “My wedding. I’m getting married.”
Kabir’s heart stuttered for a moment, his surprise momentarily breaking through his carefully composed facade. He took a deep breath, masking his emotions with practiced ease. “Congratulations. It’s an honor to be a part of your wedding preparations.” But inside he was burning. He thought Divya and him he had a future. But this, so sudden!
As he began to display different fabrics for Divya’s consideration, his fingers brushed against the fabrics with a gentleness that betrayed the racing of his heart. Each piece he presented carried a whisper of his love, a silent promise that he held within.
Amidst the array of choices, Divya’s mother and sister offered their opinions, their excitement building as they imagined Divya as a bride. Kabir listened attentively, guiding them through the intricate details of each design.
As Divya held a particularly exquisite piece, her eyes met Kabir’s once more, and she whispered softly, “Kabir, I’ve imagined what I might look like as a bride, but this moment feels so surreal.”
Kabir tried to smile, but his eyes couldn’t make the depth of his emotions. “You will be the most beautiful bride Delhi has ever seen. Your radiance will shine like a thousand stars, and your happiness will light up the hearts of everyone around you.”
Divya’s heart swelled with a mixture of emotions about her upcoming marriage, the anticipation of a new chapter, and the sadness of it not being with Kabir.
As they continued to discuss wedding attire, Kabir couldn’t help but feel a bittersweet mixture of happiness and longing. His love for Divya had evolved from stolen glances to shared moments, from quiet whispers to a declaration of admiration. And now, as he stood before her, helping her choose her wedding clothes, he realized that he helping her chart her future, but not with him.
In Kabir’s cloth store, amidst the rolls of exquisite fabrics and the hum of the bustling city, the foundation of a love and grief built on patience, courage, and unwavering affection was being woven, thread by thread. His mind was racing how to figure a way out.
As Kabir and Divya stood amidst the array of exquisite wedding clothes, a gentle shift in the atmosphere seemed to bridge the gap between their unspoken feelings. The sunlight filtered through the store’s windows, casting a warm glow over the scene.
Divya, her mother and sister had made their final selections.
“We need a tailor; can you recommend someone who will do justice to these fabrics?” She asked. “I will take it upon myself. All I ask is if you allow me to measure her.” She nodded.
“Miss,” Kabir began, his voice carrying a blend of earnestness and professionalism, “if you would allow me, I will take your measurements to ensure a perfect fit for your most beautiful wedding attire.”
Divya met his gaze, her eyes holding a mixture of trust and a hint of playfulness. She nodded as if to say “Please, go ahead.”
Kabir’s heart raced as he stepped closer, his fingers lightly brushing the soft fabric of the measuring tape. His hands trembled slightly with the weight of his emotions, the moment carrying a significance that words couldn’t fully express.
With gentle precision, Kabir began to measure Divya’s frame, his touch careful and respectful. He draped the measuring tape around her shoulders, his fingers grazing her skin as he recorded the numbers. Becoming comfortable with Kabir, Divya’s mother and sister went next door to browse at some jewelry.
The proximity between Kabir and Divya was electric, charged with the unspoken feelings that had woven itself into their connection.
Divya’s breath caught as Kabir’s fingers traced a path down her back, his touch igniting a cascade of sensations that fluttered through her veins. She held her composure, a mixture of excitement and an unfamiliar yearning fluttering within her.
Kabir’s touch was sensual yet professional, a dance of emotions and practicality. His eyes remained focused on his task, his fingers mapping out the contours of her figure. With each measurement, a tapestry of longing and unspoken promises seemed to weave itself around them.
As Kabir’s fingers reached her waist, he allowed his touch to linger for a fleeting moment longer than necessary. His heart pounded in his chest; his own emotions mirrored in the tension that seemed to hum between them. His eyes were looking at her naval and then he looked up, and there was the underside of her breasts.
And then, there was just a final measurement, Kabir stepped back, allowing a respectful distance to settle between them once more. He met Divya’s gaze, his eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions – admiration, longing, and a yearning that had grown from the depths of his heart. He had to measure her blossom and he saved it for the last.
He motioned her to raise her arms, and she complied and with that he pulled the tape behind her back across her breasts. Kabir’s heart skipped a beat, he was so close yet he felt she moved so far away. His hands gently brushed her breasts, she looked at him scrutinizing him, and he smiled, as if to say “all professional.” The tape ended at her right nipple and with-it Kabir’s dream of having her forever.
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Kabir said softly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. “With these measurements, I promise that your wedding attire will be tailored to perfection, a reflection of the beauty that resides within you.”
Divya’s lips curved into a soft smile, a mixture of gratitude and something more profound. “Thank you.” And with that she left and joined her mother and sister. He followed her to the jewelry store. “Don’t be late” she chided, “we need to have the clothes three days before the wedding,” she paused “if you’re late, I will hunt you down, strip you naked and drag you in the streets of Delhi.”
“Don’t worry Ma’am, that will never happen, God is my witness.”
His heart thudding with a mixture of hope and trepidation. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he began, his voice steady but earnest, “To save you a journey, I would like to personally deliver Madam’s wedding dress. May I know when and where the wedding will take place?”
Divya’s mother regarded him with curiosity, her gaze thoughtful. “The wedding is in two weeks at our ancestral home, and we reside just beyond the outskirts of the city,” she replied. “It’s kind of you to offer.”
With the location and date in mind, Kabir’s heart raced with anticipation. The thought of being part of Divya’s wedding in this intimate way brought a mixture of a little joy but mainly sadness.
Two weeks later, as Kabir arrived at Divya’s ancestral home, he was met with a flurry of activity. The air was filled with the hum of preparations, the scent of flowers, and the sounds of laughter and music. The energy of the occasion was palpable, tinged with the bittersweet realization that Divya was soon to be wed to another.
As he handed over the exquisitely tailored wedding dress to Divya’s mother, his gaze searched for Divya. He found her amidst the festivities, her presence a vision of grace and beauty. Their eyes met, a shared moment of connection that spoke volumes without the need for words.
Later, as the celebrations continued, Kabir managed to steal a moment alone with Divya. They stood on a terrace overlooking the gardens, the moonlight casting a soft glow around them.
“Divya,” Kabir began, his voice gentle but determined, “do you know who you are getting married to?”
Divya’s expression was a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. “No,” she replied softly, “I trust my father’s choice and the guidance of the matchmaker. I believe they have chosen a suitable match.” “You have no idea?” He asked a second time. “They are a good Brahmin family.”
Kabir’s heart ached as he looked into Divya’s eyes. His voice was earnest as he spoke, his words carrying a weight of emotion. “Divya, I can’t bear the thought of you marrying someone you don’t even know. Please, consider a different path. Run away with me. I promise to make you the happiest woman ever.”
Divya’s gaze held a mixture of surprise and sorrow. “Kabir, you know as well as I do that’s impossible. We come from different worlds – you’re a Muslim, and I’m a Hindu and a Brahmin. The societal norms and expectations are too deeply ingrained.”
Kabir’s fingers brushed against Divya’s hand, his touch a plea for understanding. “Love knows no boundaries, Divya. It defies caste and religion. We’ve faced a few challenges before, and we can face this one too. Let’s build a life together, one where our love is the guiding force.”
Tears glistened in Divya’s eyes as she shook her head, her voice quivering. “Kabir, I wish things were different. But the world we live in – it’s not that simple. We’re bound by more than just our feelings.”
As the moonlight bathed them in its soft glow, Kabir and Divya stood at the crossroads of their love story. Their connection was undeniable, their emotions deep and unwavering. Yet, the weight of tradition, societal norms, and the intricacies of their individual worlds loomed over them.
One afternoon, with the sun hanging low in the sky, Kabir found himself walking the familiar path to the fields on the outskirts of the city. There, amidst the tranquility of nature, he had arranged to meet Divya. As she arrived, the rustling of leaves seemed to greet her steps, a gentle symphony to accompany their conversation.
“Divya,” Kabir began softly, his eyes searching hers, “I hope you’ve found a moment of peace away from the whirlwind of wedding preparations.”
Divya nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. “It’s calming to be here, away from the bustle of the city.”
As they strolled through the fields, the wind carrying whispers of their unspoken emotions, Kabir’s voice carried a mixture of curiosity and sincerity. “Divya, have you ever questioned the rituals you follow, the beliefs you hold? Have you ever wondered about the logic behind worshipping multiple gods and idols?”
Divya’s gaze met his, her eyes reflecting a mixture of contemplation and uncertainty. “I believe strongly in my faith, but to answer your question yes, I’ve had moments when I questioned the practices. I’ve asked my father about it, but the answers were never quite satisfying, but there again who can answer all our questions, can you?” She looked at him pointedly.
Kabir’s voice held empathy as he spoke, his words chosen with care. “There is beauty and goodness in every faith, Divya. But the fundamental difference between Islam and the faith you follow is the belief in one God – Allah – and the rejection of idols and multiple gods.” “Do you every question your faith?” She asked.
“Aha I like how you turned that question around. Like you, I believe firmly in my faith, and yes there are times when I question the origin question?” “Meaning?” she asked. Well as a Muslim I believe that God, that’s Allah created all creation, that is humans, the earth, the universe. But then on occasion there is always that question Astaghfirullah, may God forgive me, of where does God originate.” “And the answer is…” she prompted him along. “The answer is in the Quran, Say, ‘He is Allah, (who is) One, Allah, the Eternal Refuge. He neither begets nor is born, Nor is there to Him any equivalent.’ “But what does that mean to you?” She asked deeply curious. “To me when I look at the ever-expanding universe, I realize God has to break greater, and then when I look at the smallest of things say a mosquito, I realize that we as humans cannot even create that. So there has to be a singular God in whose harmonious creation we all live.” Divya was deeply impressed by his logic.
Divya’s brows furrowed, her expression a blend of curiosity and surprise. “I don’t know much about Islam, Kabir. I’ve never really been exposed to it.”
Kabir’s voice carried a gentle assurance as he continued, “Muslims believe in the unity of God, and we follow the teachings of the prophets. The last of these prophets is Muhammad, who brought the final message of guidance for humanity.” He is the same God of all humanity, the Christians, the Jews, everyone.
Divya’s eyes widened as she absorbed Kabir’s words. Her faith had been a constant bedrock in her life, but the concepts he spoke of were unfamiliar to her. She felt a mix of curiosity and a desire to understand more.
“Kabir, I never knew about these beliefs,” Divya admitted, her voice carrying a blend of surprise and intrigue.
Kabir’s gaze was steady as he met her eyes, his heart laid bare in his words. “Divya, our love has brought us together across boundaries of faith and tradition. While there are differences, there are also shared values that form the foundation of both our beliefs. Love, compassion, and kindness – these are universal principles that transcend religion.”
Divya’s heart raced as she considered Kabir’s words. The world she had known seemed to expand, revealing new horizons of understanding and acceptance. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, she realized that love had a way of breaking down barriers and opening the doors to unfamiliar truths.
As the evening sun painted the sky with hues of orange and gold, Kabir and Divya stood in a secluded spot, the air heavy with anticipation. Kabir’s eyes held a mixture of hope and vulnerability as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of his feelings.
“Divya, you’re on the verge of making the biggest decision of your life – a decision that will define your path. I ask you, please, give us a chance. Come to the city with me, and let’s explore the possibilities together.”
Divya’s heart trembled with conflicting emotions. The pull of love and the allure of a different future seemed to be in direct contrast to the expectations and traditions that had been woven into her life.
“I can’t, Kabir,” she replied softly, her voice tinged with sorrow. “The complexities of our situation, the expectations of my family – they’re too great to overcome.”
Kabir’s gaze was unwavering, his determination unyielding. “Then let me offer you a way, Divya. Sneak away with me this evening. We’ll return to Delhi, just for a short while. Let me show you a perspective you may not have considered.”
With that she returned home and made an excuse about having a headache and asking not to be disturbed. Then out of the window she snuck out.
With Kabir’s reassurance, Divya’s resolve wavered. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape, they embarked on a journey that held the promise of transformation.
In Delhi, they arrived at the grand Jama Masjid, a testament to the artistic prowess of the Mughal era. Kabir guided Divya through the intricacies of the mosque, and they stood before the ablution area.
“Divya, have you ever been inside a mosque?” Kabir asked, his voice gentle.
Divya shook her head, her curiosity piqued. He took his shoes off and so did she. He covered his head and so did she.
Kabir showed her how to perform ablution, using water to cleanse oneself before prayer. Divya followed his lead, her movements guided by a mixture of curiosity and a touch of nervousness.
With their ablutions complete, Kabir led Divya inside the mosque. It was the time of the night Isha prayer and the loyal worshippers stood in neat lines behind the Imam as he chanted Arabic verses of the Quran, standing then bowing and prostrating towards Mecca. He guided her to the women’s quarter. As he knelt down to pray, Divya watched with a sense of reverence. The rhythmic motions, the whispered prayers, and the devotion in Kabir’s actions were a testament to the faith that had guided him.
She felt a serenity inside the mosque which she had never felt before, not even at the temple.
When the moment came for her to join in the prayer, Divya felt a gentle hush settle over her. She raised her hands to her ears, mirroring the motions of those beside her. As the Arabic words flowed from her lips, she could feel the weight of each syllable. Although the meaning of the words was foreign to her, she sensed a universal connection in the act of submission.
With each bow and prostration, a sense of tranquility enveloped Divya. The stillness of the mosque seemed to cocoon her in a bubble of serenity. The rhythmic cadence of the prayer washed away the outside world, leaving her fully present in this sacred moment.
As she closed her eyes in reflection, Divya felt a profound connection to something greater than herself. It was as if the act of prayer had woven a thread of peace through her heart, grounding her in the embrace of the divine. In that moment, surrounded by the devoted and immersed in the gentle rhythm of worship, Divya experienced a tranquility that seemed to transcend time and place.
As Kabir concluded his prayer, he looked behind towards the women’s quarter and found Divya. His surprise was evident as he met her eyes.
“You prayed?” Kabir asked, a mixture of astonishment and wonder in his voice.
Divya’s smile was both tender and sincere. “When I prostrated, I felt a peace of mind I’ve never experienced before. A tranquility that’s difficult to put into words.”
Kabir’s eyes held a softness that mirrored his emotions. “Divya, that is the light of Islam – the serenity that comes from connecting with Allah.”
With newfound determination, Divya asked how one becomes a Muslim. “It is just a simple declaration of faith, to say without compulsion, that you believe in One God and that Muhammad is prophet.” ‘That’s it? she asked” He nodded in the affirmative.
They approached the mosque’s imam, her heart resolute. She expressed her desire to learn more about Islam and to embrace the faith.
The imam listened with compassion, and Kabir’s gaze never left Divya. In a moment that felt both profound and transformative, Divya made her declaration of faith, a testament to the journey she had undertaken – a journey that had led her to the path of Islam.
As Divya’s voice rang out in the mosque, the words of her declaration echoed through the centuries-old walls. Kabir’s heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and joy, as he realized that their love story had evolved into a shared spiritual journey.
Divya’s heart raced as she reached her home, her steps carrying the weight of the decision she had made. She scaled the walls and slipped back into her room with a mixture of relief and anxiety. However, what awaited her inside was a storm of emotions she hadn’t anticipated.
Her parents had discovered her absence, and the room that was once her sanctuary now felt like a prison. Locked within the confines of her own thoughts and the four walls around her, Divya’s heart ached for the freedom she had tasted earlier that evening.
In the midst of her solitude, Kabir’s face and his words played like a vivid tapestry in her mind. The journey to the mosque, the tranquility she had felt, and the declaration she had made – they were all fragments of a reality that had shifted beneath her feet.
The hours stretched on, each tick of the clock echoing the passage of time as Divya grappled with her emotions and the uncertainty of her situation. Her parents’ anger and disappointment were tangible even from behind the locked door, a reminder of the chasm that now seemed to separate her from the world she had known.
As dawn broke, casting a gentle light into her room, Divya’s heart remained heavy. The world outside continued its rhythm, unaware of the turmoil within her. The love that had illuminated her path was now juxtaposed with the weight of tradition, family, and societal expectations.
In the midst of her solitude, Divya’s heart remained torn between the love she held for Kabir and the deep respect she felt for her parents. The choices that lay before her seemed to form a crossroads – a choice between her own desires and the bonds that had shaped her identity.
In the heart of Divya’s ancestral home, where the air was laden with the anticipation of a sacred union, the tapestry of love and tradition was about to be woven in a way no one had expected.
Amidst the intricate preparations for the Vivaha Homa, the sacred fire ritual that symbolized a traditional Hindu wedding, Divya was adorned in her wedding attire, a veil concealing her from the curious eyes of the guests. The atmosphere was charged with excitement as the ceremony was about to begin, the rhythmic chanting of the priests intertwining with the hum of conversations.
Amid the soft whispers of blessings and the fragrant scent of incense, Divya stood by her future husband’s side, their hands gently intertwined. The crackling flames of the sacred fire danced before them, casting a warm and flickering glow on their faces. As the priest’s chants grew louder, Divya felt a sense of anticipation welling within her. With her husband leading the way, they began to walk in a graceful circle around the fire, their steps synchronized, and their spirits united. The rhythmic beat of the ceremony seemed to echo the rhythm of their shared journey; a journey now marked by the sacred bond of matrimony. With each encircling step, Divya felt a connection deepening, a promise taking shape in the presence of the fire’s radiant witness. They had to complete seven encircling, known as a “pheras”, they finished the first, second and when they got to the third something strange happened.
Like a force of destiny, Kabir arrived with an elderly religious gentleman by his side. He stood at the threshold, his voice commanding the attention of the gathering. “Stop!” he exclaimed; his determination unwavering. “This marriage cannot take place.”
A hushed silence descended over the crowd; their curiosity piqued by Kabir’s interruption. Divya’s heart raced as she recognized the significance of his presence.
Kabir turned to face the guests, his voice carrying a blend of urgency and conviction. “Divya is a Muslim, and our love story has brought us to this moment. This marriage cannot proceed as planned.”
The shock rippled through the crowd, a wave of whispers and murmurs swirling around. Confusion and disbelief painted the faces of those present.
Anger flared in the eyes of her father and guests, and Kabir’s words were met with hostility. The crowd seemed ready to lash out, to dismiss his words as an affront to their tradition.
But then, Divya stepped forward, her veil trailing behind her like a cascade of hope. She moved toward Kabir, her presence a testament to her determination. Her voice was steady as she spoke, addressing her father and the assembly.
“Father, I know you have given me your best, and I will always hold you and mother close to my heart, but it is true, I have become a Muslim.” There was large gasp from all the guests. “I love Kabir,” Divya declared, her words hanging in the air. “I love him with all my heart, and I cannot deny the bond we share. But please understand, this doesn’t have to be a rejection of our traditions. We can still have a wedding, just in a way that reflects who we are.”
Her father’s face contorted with anger; his voice laced with indignation. “Are you trying to humiliate us? After all we have done for you? To leave the religion of your forefathers and to join these foreign invaders? To disgrace our family in front of all these guests?”
Divya’s gaze remained unwavering; her voice soft but resolute. “No, Father. I’m not trying to humiliate anyone. I’m just asking for the chance to follow my heart. To find happiness with Kabir.”
The tension was palpable, the atmosphere electric with conflicting emotions. And then, Divya’s mother stepped forward, her presence a beacon of wisdom and compassion.
She addressed the crowd with a voice that carried both authority and understanding. “My dear friends, let us not forget the kindness that Muslims have shown us – to me an orphaned girl, to a family in need. They’ve been there for me in times of sorrow and joy. Shouldn’t we, as a family, reciprocate that kindness?”
As her words hung in the air, the crowd seemed to soften. Whispers of agreement and understanding rippled through the assembly.
And so, in a moment that transcended the boundaries of faith and tradition, Divya’s mother’s wisdom became the catalyst for a new path.
The elderly gentleman by Kabir’s side stepped forward, his presence that of an imam – a bearer of sacred traditions. With a voice that held the weight of experience and belief, he began to perform the nikah ceremony, the ritual that marked the union in Islamic tradition.
Reluctantly, but with a shared understanding of the bond that had brought them to this juncture, the guests accepted the outcome.
As Divya and Kabir stood before the imam, their hands intertwined, their hearts beat in unison. The ceremony, the recitation of vows, and the exchange of rings were all a testament to the evolution of their love – a love that had endured adversity and emerged stronger, a love that had defied the odds and triumphed in its own unique way.
In the heart of the ancestral home, amidst the melding of faith and the tapestry of tradition, Kabir and Divya found themselves united by a bond that was not just an expression of their love, but also a testament to the power of compassion, understanding, and the unwavering courage to forge their own path.
In a room adorned with the soft glow of candlelight and the fragrant allure of rose petals, Kabir and Divya’s wedding night was a canvas painted with intimacy and anticipation. The air was thick with a sense of enchantment, as the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only their shared moments to dwell upon.
As Divya stepped into the room, her veil shrouding her face, her heart fluttered with a mixture of excitement and shyness. The atmosphere was charged with an intimacy that transcended words, as Kabir’s eyes met hers, his gaze carrying a blend of admiration and affection.
The room, awash with candlelight and the soft fragrance of roses, held an air of romance that seemed to envelop them in its embrace. The flickering candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating an ambiance that felt both intimate and surreal.
Kabir joined in her mirth, their laughter mingling with the soft melodies of their love story. His fingers brushed against hers, his touch a silent affirmation of his affection. Their eyes met, and in that shared gaze, a world of emotions unfolded.
And then, as the intimacy of the moment deepened, Kabir’s fingers gently lifted Divya’s veil, revealing her radiant smile and the spark of anticipation in her eyes. With a tenderness that spoke of his love, he leaned in, his lips finding hers in a gentle kiss.
Their kiss was a promise – a promise of shared dreams, of a love that had braved obstacles and stood unwavering in the face of adversity. The softness of their lips meeting, the mingling of breaths, all spoke of a connection that transcended the confines of the room.
Divya’s fingers found their way to Kabir’s cheek, her touch an echo of her own emotions. As they pulled away, a lingering intimacy lingered in the air, a connection that was both a reflection of their shared journey and a glimpse into the future they were forging together.
In the quiet moments that followed, their conversation carried a flirtatious undertone, the lightness of their laughter interwoven with whispered promises and shared dreams. The room seemed to shrink, leaving only their shared moments to fill the space between them.
They started to kiss and he helped her take her jewelry off, one item at a time, starting with the earrings then the necklace. He left her to take the nose-ring off, as he didn’t want to fail at that. With a gentle smile, Kabir approached Divya, his fingers gently finding the edge of her saree. The room seemed to hold its breath as he began to unravel the delicate fabric, his touch a delicate blend of reverence and anticipation. He tried to pull her towards him and she teasingly turned away, round and round she spun until the outer garment of the saree fell to the floor. He pulled her back to the bed by grabbing her hand. Now her tight matching red blouse made its appearance with her breasts pointing right up at him. One by one he undid the fasteners of the blouse working his way down her cleavage.
He gently pushed her back on the rose petal covered bed, and took a petal and caressed her nose and lips with it. Then he kissed her on her inviting lips.
The blouse was off, and there were her bare majestic breasts and brown nipples. He circled the nipples and areola with his fingers and then alternated kissing each breast and then back to kissing her lips. This was the upper triangle of heavenly delights and the lower triangle of the breasts and her vagina lay in wait. She got up again and spun around in playful delight, her last veil swirling around her like a whispered promise before he entered her and consummated the marriage.
As the night unfolded, the flickering candlelight continued to cast its gentle glow, and the fragrance of roses seemed to linger like a whispered secret. In the room laden with the echoes of their laughter, Kabir and Divya’s Suhaag Raat became a memory etched in the tapestry of their love story – a memory of intimacy, tenderness, and the promise of a future illuminated by the light of their shared journey.
The Veiled Garden 