Their Wedding at The Leela Palace, Udaipur
Some love stories arrive with thunder, loud, dramatic, impossible to ignore.
Ours didn’t.
Ours walked in quietly, softly, like a warm breeze you don’t notice until it becomes the only weather you want to live in.
When I met Pratham, I didn’t know I was meeting the person who would rewrite my every understanding of love. There was no lightning bolt moment, no cinematic background score, just a gentle certainty in the way he listened, the way he understood, the way he saw me. He was warmth wrapped in patience, a steady calm in a world constantly rushing forward. And somewhere between stolen glances, unspoken reassurances, and dreams we were still too shy to share, something about him felt like home long before we dared to call it love.
But homes aren’t always handed to you; sometimes, you build them plank by plank.
Our journey wasn’t straight or smooth. It was carved through long-distance calls where we counted time zones instead of hours, through differences big enough to question us, through expectations louder than our own voices, through misunderstandings that made the world feel heavier than it ever should in your twenties. There were days when love felt fragile, when “us” seemed blurred at the edges, and when holding on felt like carrying too much alone.
Yet, every time something tried to pull us apart, we found a way back.
Stronger. Softer. More certain.
Pratham would often tell me, “Tu meri Laxmi hai… your name should always come first.”
A simple sentence, yes, but within it lived an entire universe of how he loved me. With respect. With pride. With a tenderness that elevated, never diminished. And I felt it with every heartbeat, that this man wasn’t just a chapter in my life; he was the story.
We learned to dream together, imperfectly but honestly. His dreams became mine; mine became his. Our love was never balanced, but beautifully imbalanced, tipping always toward giving more, choosing more, loving more. That was the magic of us: we were two people who refused to stop choosing each other, again and again, even when it would’ve been easier not to.
And then came our wedding day.
Set against the shimmering blue waters of Lake Pichola and the golden glow of the Aravalli hills, The Leela Palace, Udaipur, became the place where our story found its forever. The palace stood like something from a dream, marble corridors carrying whispers of centuries-old love stories, lotus pools reflecting soft afternoon light, the entire space wrapped in royal quietude. It felt like love itself had taken the shape of a venue.
Walking toward Pratham in my KALKI bridal saree, a masterpiece that blended elegance, emotion, and heritage, I felt every moment of our eight-year journey settle gently into my chest. I carried our struggles like strength, our memories like blessings, our love like armor.
And then came the moment I will never forget.
As I began my vows, my voice trembling with emotion, I watched him freeze, utterly still, eyes flooded not with tears, but with something deeper. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cry; it was that he felt everything so intensely that even his tears refused to fall. In that stillness lived eight years of growing, fighting, choosing, losing ourselves, finding each other again, and loving each other through it all.
When I looked into his eyes, I saw our entire story playing like a silent film:
The late-night calls.
The almost-breakdowns.
The reunions at airports.
The whispered apologies.
The laughter that stitched us back together.
The courage it took to keep choosing “us.”
That moment, quiet, unspoken, soul-deep, became my favourite part of our wedding. It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t dramatic. It was simply real, and that made it perfect.
Today, when I look back, I don’t see our struggles as shadows. I see them as stepping stones, each one leading us toward a love that wasn’t handed to us, but built by us. We weren’t a fairy tale.
We were a fight-for-it love story.
A hold-on-tight love story.
A love story that didn’t rely on fate alone, but on two people brave enough to meet it halfway.
And as a KALKI bride standing beside the man who had always been my certainty, wrapped in a drape that felt like poetry, I felt everything inside me align. The girl who once prayed for clarity had finally arrived at her answer.
If our journey has taught me anything, it is this:
Love always finds a way, but only if you do, too.
