04-02-2026, 09:56 AM
It was Ranjith's birthday — a quiet milestone, nothing extravagant. He turned 30 that day, still fit from security officer drills, still the same man who proposed to Divya with raw honesty years ago.
Divya woke early, as always, to prepare. She bathed, wore her favorite maroon saree with gold border — the one Ranjith loved because it made her look like a goddess — tied her hair in a neat bun, applied sindoor carefully, and slipped on her mangalsutra.
In the small puja room, she lit the diya, rang the bell softly, offered flowers and prasad to the family deities. Monu, sleepy-eyed but excited, helped her arrange the thali. "Papa ko surprise denge!" he whispered.
Ranjith came out in his crisp uniform (duty called even on his birthday), but Divya stopped him. She did aarti for him right there — circling the flame around his face, applying tilak on his forehead, feeding him a sweet. He smiled that rare, boyish smile, pulled her close for a quick kiss on the forehead while Monu giggled. "Aaj sirf family time," she said softly. "Mandir chalte hain sab saath."
They walked to the nearby temple — a modest one, crowded on weekends but peaceful that morning. Ranjith held Monu's hand on one side, Divya on the other, her pallu dbangd modestly. She prayed extra long at the deity's feet — for Ranjith's safety, for their happiness, for strength to keep her thoughts pure. The priest blessed them, tied a kalava on Ranjith's wrist, gave prasad. On the way back, they bought pedas from the vendor outside — Ranjith's favorite. Everything felt perfect, normal, loving.
Divya woke early, as always, to prepare. She bathed, wore her favorite maroon saree with gold border — the one Ranjith loved because it made her look like a goddess — tied her hair in a neat bun, applied sindoor carefully, and slipped on her mangalsutra.
In the small puja room, she lit the diya, rang the bell softly, offered flowers and prasad to the family deities. Monu, sleepy-eyed but excited, helped her arrange the thali. "Papa ko surprise denge!" he whispered.
Ranjith came out in his crisp uniform (duty called even on his birthday), but Divya stopped him. She did aarti for him right there — circling the flame around his face, applying tilak on his forehead, feeding him a sweet. He smiled that rare, boyish smile, pulled her close for a quick kiss on the forehead while Monu giggled. "Aaj sirf family time," she said softly. "Mandir chalte hain sab saath."
They walked to the nearby temple — a modest one, crowded on weekends but peaceful that morning. Ranjith held Monu's hand on one side, Divya on the other, her pallu dbangd modestly. She prayed extra long at the deity's feet — for Ranjith's safety, for their happiness, for strength to keep her thoughts pure. The priest blessed them, tied a kalava on Ranjith's wrist, gave prasad. On the way back, they bought pedas from the vendor outside — Ranjith's favorite. Everything felt perfect, normal, loving.
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