Siddanth sat in his home office. He stared at two standard LCD monitors on his desk. The desk held printed schematics, three empty coffee mugs, and a digital drawing tablet. He was working on the drone designs for the military. It was a tedious process.
"Veda," Siddanth said. "Run the stress test on the drone rotor casing again."
"Running simulation, Boss," Veda replied through the desktop speakers. "The structural integrity fails at minus twenty degrees Celsius. The composite material becomes brittle at high altitudes."
"Stop the simulation," Siddanth said. He rubbed his temples. "We need to re-evaluate the alloy mixture. I cannot finish this today. Designing physical military hardware from scratch takes months of iterative testing. Save the current workspace."
"Workspace saved," Veda confirmed.
Siddanth pushed his chair back and stood up. He wore a simple grey t-shirt and black track pants. He wanted to meet Krithika today, but their parents had issued a strict ban. They cited tradition. No meeting before the engagement. Siddanth accepted it and tried to focus on his work, but the noise from the ground floor made it impossible.
The engagement venue was Falaknuma Palace. His parents handled the logistics. Today, the house was filling with relatives.
Siddanth walked out of his office and went down the stairs. The living room was chaotic. Suitcases lined the walls. People occupied the sofas, and extra plastic chairs filled the remaining space.
He looked at his extended family. His father's elder brother, his Peddananna, was sitting on the main sofa, gripping a Telugu newspaper tightly. He was loudly discussing the crisis with Siddanth's father and his mother's brother, his Menamama.
"Four hours!" Peddananna complained loudly, waving his hand in frustration. "The line outside the Andhra Bank branch stretched all the way to the main road. Old men, women, everyone fighting. And when I finally reached the counter, the manager said the hundred-rupee notes were finished. They handed me two of those new pink two-thousand-rupee notes! What am I supposed to do with that? If I buy milk for fifty rupees, who will give me nineteen hundred and fifty rupees in change?"
"It is a disaster for the farmers, Bava," Menamama agreed, looking at Siddanth's father. "How are we supposed to pay the daily laborers? They don't have bank accounts. We rely entirely on cash. The whole village economy has stopped."
"You only have to worry about laborers," his father's younger brother, his Babai, chimed in from a plastic chair. "Did you hear what happened in our colony in Hanumakonda? A man named Venkat sold his ancestral land last Monday. Five crores. The buyer gave him the entire amount in suitcases filled with thousand-rupee notes. Tuesday night, Modi made the announcement on TV. Wednesday morning, Venkat collapsed. A massive heart attack."
"Five crores of paper," Peddananna shook his head in disbelief. "Overnight, it became worthless. People are going mad."
As Siddanth reached the bottom step, Aryan spotted him.
"Babai!" Aryan yelled. The eight-year-old ran across the marble floor and hugged Siddanth's legs.
Siddanth picked him up. "When did you arrive, Aryan?"
"Just now, Babai," Aryan said.
"Mamayya!" Tarun dropped his board game and ran over. "Are we going to play? The house is boring."
Ramesh walked over and patted Siddanth's shoulder. "Look who left his cave. The groom. Why are you hiding in your room?"
"I was working, Ramesh anna," Siddanth said. He set Aryan down.
"Work, work," Peddananna boomed from the sofa. He pointed a finger at Siddanth. "You are getting engaged tomorrow. Stop working. Come here and sit."
Siddanth walked over and took a seat on a plastic chair. Immediately, the women of the house noticed him. His aunts surrounded his chair.
"Siddu, you look weak," his Peddamma said. She frowned. "Are they not giving you enough food at the cricket camps?"
"I eat exactly what I need to eat, Peddamma," Siddanth said. "It is just fitness."
"You need ghee," she declared. "I will tell your mother to add more ghee to your rice."
His Menamama leaned forward from his chair. "Where is the Bride's photo, Siddu? Your parents refused to show us the bride. They said we have to come to Hyderabad to see her. Show us your phone."
"I don't have a photo, Mamayya," Siddanth lied smoothly. He kept a straight face. "It is a surprise for me also."
His cousin Swathi rolled her eyes. "Stop acting like a hero in a Telugu movie. We know you chose her. What is her name?"
"Krithika," Siddanth answered.
"What does she do?" Swathi asked.
"She has an MBA," Siddanth said. "She works in a management company."
"Corporate sector," Peddananna nodded. "Good. Educated girl. Is her family respectable?"
Before Siddanth could answer, Tarun and Aryan grabbed his hands and pulled.
"Babai, Mamayya, you promised to play!" Tarun complained. "Everyone is just talking."
Siddanth looked at the dozen kids and teenagers in the room. They all looked bored.
"Who wants to play cricket?" Siddanth asked loudly.
A collective cheer erupted from the kids.
"Get your shoes," Siddanth told them. He looked at Ramesh and Karthik. "Are you coming?"
"Obviously," Ramesh said. He stretched his arms.
Siddanth led the large group out the back door. The farmhouse property was massive. He led them down a paved path toward the back of the estate.
The kids ran inside the turf. They dropped their bats and a tennis ball on the pitch.
"Babai, this is exactly like the ones in the city," Aryan said.
Siddanth placed the younger kids at the top of the batting order and the older cousins at the bottom. He decided to bowl first.
He bowled left-handed spin. He deliberately bowled slow, looping full tosses. Tarun swung hard and hit the ball into the side netting.
"Four runs!" Tarun shouted.
Siddanth clapped. "Good shot."
The game continued for an hour. The turf echoed with shouts, appeals, and laughter. The kids ran between the wickets, often getting confused and running to the same end. Siddanth acted as the umpire, turning down loud appeals from Ramesh to keep the kids batting.
Eventually, the kids got out, and Ramesh walked to the crease. He tapped his plastic bat on the artificial grass.
"Bowl properly now," Ramesh challenged. "Use your right hand."
Siddanth smiled. He switched the ball to his right hand. He walked back a few paces. He ran up and bowled a sharp, swinging delivery. He kept the pace slow enough not to cause injury, but the swing was international standard. The tennis ball curved sharply in the air, completely bypassed Ramesh's bat, and hit the middle plastic stump.
"Out," Siddanth said. He turned and walked back to his run-up mark.
"Cheating!" Ramesh argued. He pointed his bat at Siddanth. "You used swing. I am a software employee. That is unfair."
"You asked me to bowl properly," Siddanth laughed.
After two hours, the game ended. The kids sat on the artificial grass, breathing heavily. As they rested, Shruti pointed through the netting toward a large wooden structure near the edge of the property.
"Babai, what is that building?" she asked.
"Those are the stables," Siddanth said.
"Horses?" Tarun asked. He stood up quickly. "You have horses here? Can we see them?"
Siddanth nodded. "Come on."
He led the group out of the turf and walked toward the wooden fence. When Siddanth first bought the farmhouse, he had two horses. Now, the stables held ten. This included three small ponies.
They walked into the stable area. The smell of hay and oats filled the air. The stable hands were busy brushing down a tall Marwari horse.
The kids ran to the wooden stall doors, looking inside with wide eyes.
"Can we ride them, Babai?" Aryan asked.
"Only the ponies," Siddanth said. He signaled the head stable hand. "Saddle the three ponies. Keep them inside the walking ring."
The stable hands brought out the ponies. Siddanth lifted Aryan onto the first pony and handed the reins to a handler. For the next hour, Siddanth walked alongside the ponies as Aryan, Shruti, Tarun, and the other kids took turns riding in circles. The older cousins leaned against the fence, taking photos and talking.
By the time they returned to the main house, the sun was setting.
Dinner was a massive affair. The women laid large banana leaves on the dining table and across the living room floor. Siddanth sat on the floor cross-legged next to his uncles and older cousins. His mother and aunts served steaming white rice, dal, chicken curry, mutton fry, and thick curd.
The conversations were loud. The men debated cricket and politics, while the women discussed the arrangements for tomorrow. Siddanth ate quietly, answering questions when asked, but mostly listening to the noise.
By midnight, the house finally grew quiet. The guests settled into the guest bedrooms, and the remaining family members slept on mattresses spread across the living room floor.
Siddanth went to his bedroom. He locked the door and sat on his bed. He picked up his phone and initiated a video call.
Krithika answered on the first ring. She sat on her bed, leaning against the headboard. She wore a simple cotton nightdress. Her hair was tied up. She looked exhausted.
"Is your house completely overrun?" Siddanth asked.
"Worse," Krithika sighed. She rubbed her eyes. "My entire extended family is sleeping in my living room and hallways. I have cousins here that I haven't seen in ten years. They all want to know my life plans."
"Did they ask about the groom?" Siddanth smiled.
"Constantly," Krithika said. "My parents kept the suspense going. They told everyone absolutely nothing. They just said I am marrying a nice boy who works in Hyderabad. My aunt cornered me in the kitchen an hour ago."
"What did she ask?"
"She asked, 'He works in a management company right? Or software? What is his package? Does he own a house or will you live in a rented flat?'"
Siddanth laughed softly. "What did you say?"
"I told her you manage your finances well," Krithika grinned. "Then she lectured me. She said I should have focused on my MBA and my career instead of rushing into marriage with an average earning boy."
"Average earning boy," Siddanth repeated. "They really have no idea."
"Zero idea," Krithika confirmed. "Tomorrow is going to be chaos. When my family bus arrives at Falaknuma Palace, and they walk inside and see you... I need someone to record my uncle's face. He genuinely thinks you live in a 2BHK in Kukatpally."
"My relatives are doing the exact same thing," Siddanth said. "They asked for a photo of you. I told them you are a mix of traditional values and modern thinking."
"You are terrible," she laughed. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"
"I am ready," Siddanth said. "I just want to see you."
"Me too. Go to sleep, Sid. We have to wake up very early."
"Goodnight."
Siddanth disconnected the call. He put the phone on his nightstand and went to sleep.
The next morning, his mother knocked on his door at 5:00 AM.
"Wake up, Siddu. Take a bath. The priest is downstairs."
Siddanth showered and wore a simple cotton kurta and dhoti. He walked downstairs. The living room was active. The guests were awake and drinking coffee. The priest sat in the center of the hall, arranging a small mandapam with brass plates, flowers, and turmeric.
Siddanth sat on the floor next to his parents opposite the priest.
"We will perform the Ganesh Pooja," the priest instructed. "This removes obstacles."
The priest chanted Sanskrit mantras. He handed a mixture of rice and turmeric to Siddanth. Siddanth followed the priest's instructions, offering the rice to the idol. The pooja lasted for an hour. The smell of camphor filled the room. Finally, the priest tied a yellow thread around Siddanth's right wrist.
"Do not remove this kankanam until the engagement is over," the priest said.
Siddanth touched his parents' feet for blessings. He then walked around the room, taking blessings from his Peddananna, Peddamma, Babai, and Menamama.
After breakfast, the women gathered near the dining table. They had all taken their baths and were dressed for the ceremony. They wore the handwoven sarees Siddanth and Krithika had commissioned from the Pochampally weavers.
"This fabric is incredibly light," his Peddamma said. She adjusted the pleats of her deep green handwoven silk saree. "Where did you purchase these?"
"We did not buy them from a store, Akka," Siddanth's mother said. She wore a mustard yellow saree with a wide maroon border. "Siddanth gave an order directly to a weaver family in Pochampally. They made clothes for our entire family."
"Really?" his aunt asked. She looked at the intricate patterns. "It is very elegant. Usually, boys his age want heavy designer clothes for functions."
"He prefers to support the weavers," his mother said proudly.
By 9:00 AM, Siddanth went upstairs and changed into normal outfit. He wore a light blue linen shirt and dark trousers. The stitching was perfect. He checked his reflection, skipped a watch, and walked back downstairs.
Outside the gates of the farmhouse, a single luxury Volvo bus idled. Arjun had arranged it. It had fifty reclining seats and heavy air conditioning.
"Everyone, get in the bus!" Siddanth's father shouted. He stood near the door with a clipboard. "Do not delay. We must reach the venue on time."
The relatives grabbed their bags and boarded the bus. The kids ran to the back rows, fighting over window seats. Siddanth's aunts carefully climbed the steps, holding their sarees.
Siddanth did not get on the bus. He walked to his black Range Rover. His driver opened the rear door. Siddanth got in.
On the other side of the city, an identical scene occurred. A single luxury bus parked outside Krithika's house. Her relatives, dressed in their own colorful handwoven clothes, boarded the bus. They chattered excitedly, completely unaware of the massive scale of the event waiting for them.
The bus from Siddanth's house pulled onto the main road. Siddanth's Range Rover followed closely behind. The convoy navigated the morning traffic of Hyderabad. They crossed the city and entered the narrower roads of the old city.
The vehicles began the steep climb up the hill. At the top, the massive, imposing iron gates of the Falaknuma Palace waited. The engagement day had begun.