The Rathore mansion buzzed with activity as preparations for the evening's grand event were in full swing. The staff moved swiftly, decorating every corner of the vast estate, while the kitchen was filled with the aromas of rich Rajasthani cuisine being prepared. Amidst all the chaos, a summons had gone out to the women of the Rathore family, calling them to Dadi’s room.
One by one, they began to arrive. Nandini was the first to step into the room, her saree elegantly draped, exuding her usual calm and collected demeanor. She greeted Dadi with a warm smile before taking a seat on the cushioned divan by the window. Amrita followed shortly after, her presence commanding respect as she entered. She acknowledged her mother-in-law with a polite nod and positioned herself beside Nandini, the two women exchanging a few words about the upcoming event.
A few moments later, Anjali and Ishani entered together, Anjali’s cheerful disposition a contrast to Ishani’s more subdued mood. Aditi, Rohan’s younger sister, walked in with them, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, always eager to see what new drama might unfold in the family. Ishani, still shaken from her encounter with Chandra, took a seat quietly, hoping to avoid any further confrontations for the day.
Finally, Chandra made her grand entrance, her daughter Nisha in tow. Dressed in a bright pink saree, Chandra’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the gathered women. Her face wore a look of exaggerated fatigue as she made a show of sitting down heavily beside Nisha.
“Maa sa, what happened?
” Chandra began, her voice dripping with false concern.
“You’ve gathered all the women here, but there’s so much work left to do outside. I’ve been running around since morning, and I’m absolutely exhausted!”
She sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her forehead as if to emphasize her weariness.
Most of the women rolled their eyes at her antics, familiar with Chandra’s flair for melodrama.
Only Nisha appeared genuinely concerned, though even she knew better than to fully believe her mother’s theatrics.
Dadi, seated on her low bed adorned with a simple yet elegant shawl, remained silent, her expression one of quiet understanding. She knew her daughter well—knew her penchant for exaggeration and her tendency to shirk responsibility whenever possible.
But as the only girl in the family, Chandra had always been the apple of her parents' eyes. Even now, as an adult with a family of her own, she was still doted upon, her flaws overlooked or silently endured.
However, Aditi, who had never been one to hold back, couldn’t resist taking a jab at her aunt. “Arre Bua sa, abhi abhi toh aap Chaitra se apni khatirdari karwa rahi thi,” she remarked with a mischievous grin, referring to the maid who had been tending to Chandra’s every need just minutes ago.
Chandra’s face hardened at the dig, but she quickly recovered, trying to maintain her composed facade. “Haan, woh toh thak gayi thi,” she replied defensively, “mai pura kaam dekh kar...” She trailed off, her voice losing its conviction.
Sensing an opportunity to further her teasing, Aditi turned to her mother, Nandini. “Maa, I think Bua sa should take a rest today. After all, she’s been working so hard. We can manage the rest of the preparations without her, right?”
Nandini, always one to play along with her daughter’s banter, smiled slightly and gave a small nod. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea,” she replied, glancing at Chandra with a knowing look.
Chandra’s eyes widened in alarm, realizing she had been cornered by Aditi’s playful challenge. She knew any further protest would only make her look worse, so she forced a stiff smile and muttered, “Hmm,” before lapsing into silence.
Before the situation could escalate, Dadi, who had been watching the exchange with an amused yet patient expression, raised a hand to intervene.
“Enough, both of you,” she said, her voice firm but gentle, instantly commanding attention. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to her, waiting for her to speak.
“I’ve called you all here for a reason,” Dadi began, her tone serious. “Tonight, we will have many guests—important guests, including several VIPs. This is a significant event for our family, and I will not tolerate anything that could tarnish the Rathore name. No drama, no arguments, nothing that would put our reputation at risk. Am I clear?”
Her sharp gaze swept across the room, resting momentarily on each woman as if to ensure her words were sinking in. Chandra shifted uncomfortably under her mother’s scrutiny, but she knew better than to argue. The rest of the women nodded in agreement, their faces reflecting the gravity of the situation.
Dadi continued, “I’ve made arrangements for your outfits, which will arrive this evening. Make sure you’re all ready on time. I’ve also informed the makeup artists, so just sit quietly and let them do their work without any interference. I want you all to look natural and beautiful, nothing too extravagant or flashy. And wear the jewelry I’ve selected for you—no exceptions.”
There was a brief pause as Dadi looked around the room, her eyes softening slightly. “This evening is important for the Rathore family, and I trust each of you to do your part to ensure everything goes smoothly. Now, if there’s nothing else, I need some rest. You may go.”
The women exchanged glances, understanding the importance of what Dadi had said. One by one, they rose from their seats, murmuring their goodbyes as they filed out of the room. Chandra was the last to leave, casting a lingering glance back at her mother before stepping into the hallway, where the sound of preparations continued to echo through the mansion.
As they walked away, Aditi couldn’t resist one last whispered comment to Ishani, “Well, at least Bua sa will be too busy to taunt anyone tonight.”
Ishani managed a small smile, her spirits lifted slightly by Aditi’s humor. Despite the tension that often lingered in the Rathore household, there was a sense of unity among the women, a shared understanding that, for better or worse, they were in this together. And tonight, they would all play their roles to perfection, ensuring the Rathore name remained untarnished in the eyes of their esteemed guests.
Evening
The evening air was thick with anticipation as the grand doors of the party hall swung open. All eyes turned towards the entrance, and the murmurs of the guests were replaced with a hushed awe.
First to enter were the regal Jaidev Singh Rathore and his wife, Amrita Rathore. Jaidev, tall and imposing, carried himself with the effortless grace of a man accustomed to respect. His black sherwani, intricately embroidered with silver threads, spoke volumes of his status and taste. By his side, Amrita dazzled in a deep maroon silk saree, her neckline adorned with an exquisite diamond necklace that sparkled like a constellation.
She held her head high, her presence commanding the room with an aura of authority and elegance.
Behind them, Siddharth Singh Rathore and his wife, Nandini Rathore, made their entrance. Siddharth's navy blue bandhgala was tailored to perfection, highlighting his strong build. His slicked-back hair and the subtle gleam of his cufflinks under the chandeliers added to his polished look.
Nandini was a vision in a golden saree with delicate zari work, her dupatta draped elegantly over her shoulder. Her heavy jewelry and the slight clinking of her bangles with each step were enough to draw envious glances from all around.
The way they moved together, in sync, screamed power and wealth, an embodiment of the old-world charm that still turned heads in the modern age.
The murmurs grew louder as the next wave of the Rathore clan made their appearance.
Ranvijay Singh Rathore, accompanied by his siblings Sahil, Rohan, Amit, and Aryan, walked in with an effortless swagger that sent hearts racing.
They were dressed in coordinated shades of blue and grey, each with their own distinct style. Ranvijay led the pack in a charcoal grey suit that hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, the white pocket square adding a classic touch. His dark hair was neatly styled, and the intensity in his eyes made more than a few heads turn.
Sahil, in a tailored navy suit with a patterned tie, exuded a boyish charm that clashed delightfully with his sharp attire
Rohan, wore a deep blue velvet blazer that caught the light every time he moved, the hint of a smirk never leaving his lips. Amit’s choice of a crisp black tuxedo with a sleek bow tie made him look like he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine
while Aryan, wore a steel grey suit with a modern cut, his youthful features and mischievous smile making the girls around swoon. Together, they were a striking sight, the epitome of dashing elegance, and the collective sighs of admiration from the onlookers were almost audible.
But the showstopper of the night was yet to come. As if on cue, the music shifted, and the grand entrance of the Rathore women commenced. Anjali, Ishani, Aditi, and Nisha descended the staircase like queens reclaiming their thrones
Anjali, with her soft curls cascading down her back, wore a ruby red gown that hugged her figure, the deep neckline adding a touch of allure. Her confident stride and the glint of determination in her eyes reflected her inner strength, making heads turn and whispers follow her every move.
Ishani dazzled in a midnight blue saree, the intricate beadwork catching the light with every step. Her hair was styled in a classic bun, adorned with a delicate diamond pin. She exuded a quiet grace that drew people in, her smile soft but inviting.
Aditi, the youngest, was a vision in an emerald green lehenga with silver embellishments, her youthful energy radiating with every twirl of her dupatta.
Her laughter was infectious, and she effortlessly captured the attention of those around her
Nisha, the last to enter, wore a stunning gold and ivory gown that flowed around her like liquid light. The gown’s intricate design and the way it shimmered with her every movement made her look ethereal, almost otherworldly. Her hair, styled in loose waves, framed her delicate features, and her eyes, lined with kohl, had a mischievous sparkle that made hearts skip a beat.
As the ladies made their way through the hall, every eye was on them, every camera flash capturing their poise and beauty.
The media buzzed with excitement, eager to capture every moment of the Rathore family's arrival at this grand party. It was a night no one wanted to miss—a rare glimpse into the lives of royalty, where wealth, power, and beauty intertwined effortlessly.The Rathores had arrived, and with them, the party had truly begun.
The grand party hall buzzed with excitement and chatter, yet there was an air of anticipation as everyone waited for the main couple of the night. The Rathore family had made their grand entrance, each member stunning the crowd, but now all eyes were on the door, awaiting the arrival of the patriarch and matriarch of the family.
The large wooden doors swung open once again, and the room fell into a hushed silence. Pratap Singh Rathore, the formidable head of the Rathore family, walked in, his presence commanding immediate respect and attention. Despite his age, his posture was still upright, exuding a dignified grace that made it clear why he was the true king of his family. Dressed in a classic ivory kurta pajama with golden embroidery along the cuffs and collar, he looked every bit the royal patriarch. His crisp white beard and mustache were perfectly groomed, and his eyes, though softened with age, still held a spark of authority and wisdom that made him a figure to be revered.
By his side was Rajeshwari Rathore, an epitome of grace and poise even in her advanced years. She wore a rich, emerald green saree with a delicate gold border, her hair neatly tied into a bun adorned with a small string of jasmine flowers, a symbol of her timeless beauty and tradition. Her jewelry was minimal yet elegant—gold bangles, a simple necklace, and a pair of earrings that glinted under the grand chandeliers. They walked together, hand in hand, a testament to their enduring bond that had weathered the many storms of life.
As they made their way through the hall, the crowd parted to make way, and the murmurs grew into respectful greetings and applause. The media couldn’t get enough, cameras flashed incessantly, and guests craned their necks to get a glimpse of the couple who had built the Rathore empire from the ground up.
Pratap Singh Rathore slowly made his way to the stage, taking the mic with a steady hand. The room fell silent once more, eager to hear the words of the man who had shaped the legacy that everyone admired. He cleared his throat, his voice resonating with a quiet strength that commanded the room.
“Good evening, everyone,” he began, his eyes scanning the sea of faces before him. “It fills my heart with immense joy to see all of you here tonight. I am deeply grateful for the love and respect you have shown our family over the years. Today, we gather not just to celebrate my birthday, but to honor the legacy of togetherness and the values that we, as the Rathore family, hold dear.”
He paused, a warm smile spreading across his face. “As I stand here, I am reminded of all the times we have stood united, through the ups and downs, through triumphs and trials. My family is my greatest treasure, and seeing us all together tonight is the best gift I could ever receive. Thank you for being a part of this celebration.”
The crowd erupted in applause, admiration shining in their eyes as Pratap Singh Rathore nodded graciously, his smile never faltering. But as soon as the applause died down, the media, eager to seize the moment, began their barrage of questions.
“Sir, why are you celebrating your birthday before the actual date every year?” one of the reporters asked, curiosity evident in her tone.
Pratap Singh Rathore chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. “Age has a way of reminding you not to wait too long for anything, be it celebrations or moments of joy. Every year, we decided to celebrate a little early, simply to make the most of the time we have together. Life is precious, and every moment spent with loved ones is a celebration in itself.”
The crowd nodded in agreement, charmed by his words and wisdom. But the next question quickly shifted the mood.
“Sir, where is your second son? Is he not attending the party?”
Pratap Singh Rathore’s smile faltered for a brief moment, but he quickly composed himself. “Siddharth will be joining us soon. He’s caught up with some work commitments, but he wouldn’t miss this celebration for the world.”
Just as Pratap Singh finished, another question was fired, the one everyone had been tiptoeing around. “Sir, where is the King of Rajasthan, Yudhveer Singh Rathore? Why is he not present at his grandfather’s birthday party? Is there any issue going on within the family?”
The room tensed at once, the question hanging heavily in the air. Whispers rippled through the crowd as people exchanged curious and worried glances. Pratap Singh Rathore’s expression turned serious, a hint of discomfort crossing his features. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Ranvijay stepped forward, intent on diffusing the tension that was building rapidly.
Ranvijay had barely taken a step when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Pratap Singh Rathore gave him a reassuring look, silently signaling that he would handle this. He turned back to the media, his calm demeanor unshaken despite the probing questions.
“Yudhveer has responsibilities that extend beyond this celebration, duties that call him away from time to time,” Pratap Singh Rathore explained, his tone firm yet understanding. “As the King, he serves not just the family but the entire state. Tonight, he is where he needs to be, ensuring that the legacy of the Rathores remains strong. We are a family, and like any family, we have our moments. But rest assured, nothing can break the bond we share.”
His response was met with a mix of nods and murmurs of approval. The tension in the room eased slightly, but the undercurrent of curiosity remained. Pratap Singh Rathore handed the mic back, his gaze sweeping over his family. His eyes lingered on Ranvijay, offering a subtle nod of thanks for his support.
Ranvijay stepped back, his expression a mix of concern and determination. He knew the night was far from over, and the questions about Yudhveer’s absence were only the beginning. But for now, they had managed to keep the situation under control, and the party could continue—at least until the next challenge arose.
The Rathore family had weathered another storm, their unity on display for all to see. But beneath the surface, tensions simmered, waiting for the right moment to boil over.
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