A bus stop in Connaught Place. A downpour neither of us expected. One borrowed umbrella, one spilled cup of chai — and the end of the world as we knew it.
We turned strangers into friends, friends into best friends, and somewhere along the way — when we weren't looking — into something more. Six years of late-night calls and early-morning walks.
On a hill overlooking the sea, at the exact moment the sun tipped into the water. There was a ring. There were tears. There was an emphatic, breathless yes.
Wear something you don't mind staining. Expect turmeric in your hair, on your clothes, possibly in your chai. Expect laughter. Expect every aunty to have an opinion.
Rehearsed choreographies. Unrehearsed encores. The cousins' item number that took three months to plan. A dance floor that refused to close before the first light of morning.
Under a canopy of marigolds, by the light of a thousand diyas, with the people we love most in the world gathered around us — we become one. And we couldn't imagine anyone else we'd rather share this next chapter with.
Your presence would mean the world. Please let us know by the 1st of October, 2026 which ceremonies you'll be joining.