Vedhika – Chapter 4

(Re-post)

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Sparkles and Spirals

“Up! Up, Vedhika! You’re not sleeping through my shopping plans,” Shilpa’s voice called, paired with the sound of curtains being yanked open.

Vedhika groaned, covering her face with one arm. “It’s too early…”

“It’s literally nine,” Shilpa said, pulling off the blanket.

Vedhika sat up slowly, hair a mess, still half-lost in her dreams. Her body was covered in an oversized T-shirt—an old one from when she was Ved. Baggy, a little faded, the sleeves almost hitting her elbows.

But it didn’t feel the same anymore.

What once fit comfortably now hung loose across her smaller, reshaped frame. The neckline had shifted during the night, sliding off one shoulder. Her pierced ears peeked through messy curls, and her soft jawline caught the morning light just enough to make her look—effortlessly pretty.

“Wow,” Shilpa muttered. “You look like a girl who just stole her boyfriend’s T-shirt and woke up gorgeous.”

Vedhika blinked. “This was my own shirt…”

“Well, it sure doesn’t look like it anymore,” Shilpa said with a laugh. “Anyway, I brought you something.”

She held up a hanger—on it, a sky blue sleeveless dress dotted with tiny white polka dots, cinched at the waist, light and breezy.

“For the shopping trip,” Shilpa said. “You can’t wear a saree to try on lehengas.”

Vedhika eyed the dress with uncertainty. “It’s short.”

“It’s adorable,” Shilpa corrected. “Sneakers, lip balm, and that little tan sling bag—you’ll look like an off-duty movie star.”

Vedhika hesitated. Then nodded.

An hour later, they were out in the chaotic streets of Bengaluru.

Vedhika walked beside Shilpa, dressed in the blue polka-dot dress, her white sneakers hitting the pavement with easy rhythm, her tan crossbody bag bouncing gently at her side. Her hair was loose, natural, and her eyes lined just enough to make her feel presentable but not made up.

The auto ride to Commercial Street was filled with noise, honks, and Shilpa’s excitement.

“If we don’t find anything here let us go back to the city – FabIndia, Anokhi or some other popular brands”, Shilpa was determined to get the best. “Sangeet lehenga first. Silk saree for the wedding tomorrow. Quick trial and done.”

Vedhika smiled faintly, watching the blur of buildings pass outside the auto’s frame. “So… just two outfits, right?”

“Totally,” Shilpa nodded, way too quickly.

They stepped into the store’s foyer, the cool air inside brushing against Vedhika’s bare arms. Her sky blue polka-dot dress fluttered just slightly as she walked, still paired with her white sneakers and tan crossbody bag. She felt stares again—but they were polite, warm, admiring. Nobody saw anything out of place.

She was just another girl shopping for wedding outfits.

Shilpa immediately zeroed in on a magenta lehenga.

“This one. Try this one.”

Vedhika hesitated. “What if it’s too much?”

Shilpa grinned. “Too much? It’s sangeet. You’re supposed to sparkle like a disco ball.”

Vedhika rolled her eyes but took it into the trial room. As the door clicked behind her, she stared at the outfit in her hands. She slipped it on, adjusted the dupatta, and stepped back.

The mirror didn’t lie.

She looked… enchanting.

There was no doubt anymore. She didn’t just pass. She belonged.

Her waist was cinched perfectly, the flare of the lehenga giving her that effortless silhouette. The blouse fit snug, highlighting the curves shaped by her padding, but more than that—by her presence.

Shilpa nearly squealed when she stepped out. “Buy it. No second opinions.”

They picked a rose-pink silk saree for the wedding—subtle zari work, elegant border, and a classic blouse to match. That was supposed to be it.

But Shilpa wasn’t done.

No time to waste.

“Okay,” Shilpa said, stepping out of the trial room with a triumphant grin and another armful of clothes. “I know we only came for two outfits, but hear me out.”

Vedhika groaned. “Shilpa, no.”

“Yes. You’re trying all of these.”

“But the plan was—”

“Plans change. You’re attending a sangeet tonight, a wedding tomorrow morning, a reception tomorrow evening… and then, life.”

Vedhika raised an eyebrow. “Life?”

“Just humor me,” Shilpa grinned, pushing her toward the changing rooms again.

They had already finalized the two main pieces: a magenta lehenga and a rose-pink silk saree with gold zari border. Both fit like dreams. But now, Shilpa had piled on dresses, skirts, jeans, tops, kurtis, and sarees—a full wardrobe, not just occasion wear.

Inside the trial room, Vedhika took a breath and got to work.

First: a casual cream kurti with delicate embroidery along the neckline. Paired with skinny-fit jeans and bangles, it looked like something she’d wear to office if no one asked questions.

Next: a deep blue sleeveless top with high-waisted pants. Surprisingly chic. Feminine but sharp. The kind of thing she’d never have dared try a month ago.

Then a beige cotton saree with a contrasting maroon blouse. Traditional. Simple. But when she turned and saw herself in the mirror, it didn’t look borrowed. It looked… natural.

Shilpa waited outside, squealing with each new appearance.

“That one—YES. Office Friday look!”

“Okay, this? Grocery-store-chic.”

“No, no, this one’s for a casual brunch with your future in-laws.”

Vedhika laughed, but each time she turned back to the mirror, something shifted. With every outfit that fit just right, every fabric that curved around her body like it belonged, she felt another quiet wall inside her come undone.

But she kept her guard up.

“I’m not keeping all of these,” she said as she stepped out in a breezy floral A-line dress.

“You don’t have to,” Shilpa shrugged. “Try them all. Keep what you like. We can return the ones you don’t love next week.”

Vedhika looked down at herself in the mirror.

Light makeup. Bare earrings. Soft pink lipstick that hadn’t smudged in hours.

The girl in the reflection didn’t look like someone pretending anymore.

She looked like someone choosing.

Vedhika turned, struck a pose, and walked out into the store’s soft lights.

“Okay,” she said quietly, “bag the lehenga, the saree… and these six.”

Shilpa clutched her heart dramatically. “My girl.”

“You sure you’ll be okay on your own?” Shilpa asked, hoisting the shopping bags onto her shoulder.

Vedhika nodded, standing barefoot in her bedroom doorway. “Of course. I’ll see you there.”

Shilpa paused, then smirked. “Just remember—blush, earrings, and don’t skip the perfume. Tonight’s important.”

“I’ll survive,” Vedhika laughed.

As soon as Shilpa left, Vedhika placed the bags on the bed and began unpacking. There was no closet labeled “hers” yet, but she cleared out a drawer and one side of the cupboard. She didn’t need to move anything aside—there were barely any of her old clothes left.

She hadn’t noticed it before. But the truth was, Ved’s wardrobe had been slowly disappearing.

And tonight, it felt like it had never existed at all.

She took another long bath, washing away the dust from the shopping trip, massaging oil into her arms and legs, letting her skin breathe. She wrapped herself in a towel and stood in front of the mirror, staring at her own reflection.

Soft. Feminine. Herself.

She reapplied her makeup carefully—foundation, a hint of blush, shimmer on her eyelids, and a bold, confident lipstick. Her favorite part? The big, round silver earrings into her pierced ears, letting them dangle with gentle weight.

Her hair, still scented from the conditioner, she parted to one side and swept over her shoulder, curling the edges with a straightener for that perfect fall. The magenta lehenga shimmered under the vanity lights as she stepped into it, fastening the pearl blouse and arranging the translucent dupatta with practiced fingers.

Everything had led to this moment. And for once, she wasn’t nervous.

She was excited.

She didn’t take an auto.

Not tonight.

She booked a cab. AC on, windows up. No dust, no wind. Nothing that would ruin her hair or smudge her kajal.

The venue was glowing even from a distance—fairy lights strung between trees, women in bright silks and sequins twirling in the courtyard, music thumping softly through the ground.

Vedhika stepped out of the cab, adjusted her dupatta, and walked in slowly.

The venue shimmered in the distance—lights strung across open gardens, the sound of music pulsing just beneath the breeze. Women in dazzling lehengas twirled across the lawn like fireflies. Soft laughter mixed with dhol beats. It was a world apart from her office life. And tonight, she belonged here.

As Vedhika stepped out of the cab, adjusting her dupatta, her eyes immediately searched for a familiar face.

And there—across the crowd—stood Archana.

Her red and gold lehenga flared around her, jewelry glinting under the lights, hair cascading down her back in thick waves.

Vedhika smiled and made her way over.

“Archana,” she said, eyes lighting up, “you look absolutely stunning.”

Archana blinked in delight. “You really think so?”

“I’m serious. You look like you’re walking straight out of a bridal magazine.”

Archana beamed, face turning a soft pink under her makeup. “Well, I am the bride.”

Vedhika grinned. “Sure, but… you’re glowing.”

Archana giggled and stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Have you seen yourself?”

Vedhika raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“If I didn’t know better,” Archana teased, “I’d think you were the one getting married tomorrow. Look at you, all blushy and radiant. Someone’s stealing the spotlight.”

Vedhika laughed, the kind of laugh that came easily now. “Shut up.”

But inside, her cheeks were warm. Maybe from the lights. Maybe from the compliments. Or maybe, because for the first time in her life, the mirror hadn’t lied.

She didn’t just look beautiful.

She felt it.

The courtyard was bursting with life now—fairy lights twinkling overhead, the DJ mixing one Bollywood hit after another, and girls in lehengas, sarees, and sequined anarkalis dancing in tight little groups with the kind of joy only weddings bring out.

Vedhika stood near the edge of the dance floor at first, watching. Laughing when Archana was pulled into a goofy choreographed routine with her cousins. Smiling when someone’s little niece tried to copy the steps.

Then someone tugged her in.

She resisted at first—“No, no, I’ll just watch”—but the music was too loud, the energy too infectious, and her lehenga too perfectly flared not to twirl.

So she gave in.

The next track was a dhol-based remix of Ghagra, and before she knew it, she was spinning, hands in the air, wrists soft, movements fluid. Not technical. Not practiced.

But graceful.

Instinctive.

She lost herself in it.

The weight of her earrings swinging with every turn, the sway of the dupatta across her waist, the bounce of her curls over her shoulder—it all blended into something electric, something whole.

That’s when Shilpa arrived.

Vedhika saw her from across the crowd and actually stopped mid-twirl, stunned for a second.

Gone were the jeans and oversized tee from the morning. Shilpa now wore a deep plum lehenga, hair curled, makeup soft but glowing. Gold hoops framed her face. Her smile lit up the courtyard.

“Whoa,” Vedhika whispered.

Shilpa walked over, hands raised in mock surrender. “Before you say anything—yes, I do clean up well.”

“You look…” Vedhika began, shaking her head, “absolutely stunning.”

Shilpa rolled her eyes but blushed anyway. “You’re one to talk. You were literally floating out there.”

Vedhika laughed. “I was just following the rhythm.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t just following. You were moving like you’d been dancing in lehengas since you were five. Have you?”

Vedhika blinked, caught off guard. “No, never.”

Shilpa squinted. “Then how do you move like that? The hands, the sway—like it’s part of you.”

Vedhika opened her mouth, then paused.

She didn’t have an answer.

She hadn’t thought about the steps. She hadn’t worried if she was getting it right. Her body just… knew.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “It just feels right, I guess.”

Shilpa looked at her for a moment, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah,” she said. “It really does.”

The music shifted into a slow Punjabi ballad, and the crowd began to split off into small clusters again. Some sat down, some wandered off for juice and snacks, some couples swayed under the lights.

Vedhika sat beside Shilpa, cheeks flushed, sipping on a cool glass of Rooh Afza and soda. Her legs ached in that perfect, satisfying way after dancing too long in heels.

She leaned back, staring at the starry canopy above.

Everything felt surreal.

But it didn’t feel like pretending anymore.

It felt like her life was finally catching up to who she really was.

The girls trickled out of the venue in pairs and trios after the sangeet, some sharing cabs, others getting dropped off with laughter still hanging in the air. It was a warm night, the kind that carries joy on its breeze.

Vedhika rode with Shilpa, too tired to talk, the silence between them comfortable and full. She rested her head against the window, lehenga pooled in her lap, and let herself drift off before they even reached home.

Back in her room, she peeled off the makeup slowly, washed her face, changed into her pajamas, and collapsed into bed.

She didn’t dream.

She didn’t toss.

She just slept—deep and undisturbed.

It felt like peace.

For the first time in forever, she felt like she didn’t have to fight anything inside herself.

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