In the small mountain town of Sheetgiri, nestled high above the plains of Uttar Pradesh, lives a man named Rajeshwaran Aggarwal. His house, perched on the highest ridge, was a quiet haven where the cold breeze mixed with the scent of pine and earthy soil, bringing a deep sense of peace.

 Rajeshwaran lived here with his family: his wife, Babita, his two daughters, Prachi and Namrata, and memories of his late brother and sister-in-law, who had tragically lost their lives in an accident when Prachi was only seven.

Since that day, Rajeshwaran had raised Prachi as his own, pouring his heart and soul into giving her the love and care she deserved. To him, Prachi was his "bittu," the daughter of his heart, though they did not share blood. She was gentle, shy, and kind—a beautiful girl, with eyes full of innocence and a warmth that touched everyone around her.

A gentle breeze sweeps across Raj's face, and he begins to reminisce. His mind drifts back to when Prachi was just a little girl, laughing, running around the house, calling him "Chacha ji(Uncle!)" with that same innocence and joy. He smiles softly, his heart swelling with love.

(Haath Tham Ke Chala-Dil Ke Vivah; this is my own song, hope you enjoy the lyrics)

Verse 1 (Music in the style of soft, melodic 1990s Bollywood, with a tender flute introduction)

Male Singer (Rajeshwaran's voice in the background):

Jab choti si thi meri rajkumari,

Haste hue sapne dekhe the humne saath,

Woh choti si ungli pakadke, main chalna sikhata,

Zindagi ki raahon mein tha sirf pyaar ka haath...

(When my princess was little,

We dreamed together with smiles,

Holding her tiny finger, I taught her to walk,

In the journey of life, it was only love that guided us...)

A young Prachi, around 5 years old, runs across the courtyard, giggling. 

Raj lovingly helps her up after she falls, wiping away her tears and carrying her on his shoulders. They share a moment of laughter as he spins her around in the air.

The memory shifts to Prachi, now a bit older, wearing her school uniform, standing proudly with her schoolbooks in her arms. Raj ties her hair into neat braids, smiling as she heads off to school

Male Singer:

Jab pehli baar school gayi thi meri jaan,

Dil bhar aaya tha, par muskuraata raha main,

Woh har khushi uski meri khushi thi ban gayi,

Zindagi ka har pal tha asaan...

(When my darling went to school for the first time,

My heart was full, but I kept smiling,

Every joy of hers became my joy,

Every moment of life felt easy...)

CHORUS (Building to a nostalgic, heartwarming chorus)

Male Singer (Echoes Rajeshwaran's feelings):

Rajkumari meri, ab waqt aaya hai,

Tere sapne pure karne ka, yeh safar hai naya,

Teri khushi mein hai meri khushi chhupi hui,

Main toh bas tera haath thaam ke chala...

Tera Haath Thaam Ke Chala

(My princess, now the time has come,

To fulfill your dreams, a new journey awaits,

Your happiness hides within mine,

I just walk with your hand in mine...

Walked with your hand in mine)

Now, Raj recalls Prachi's teenage years. She's at her school graduation, receiving an award. Raj claps proudly from the audience, his eyes misty with pride. Prachi rushes into his arms afterward, holding her certificate up to him, her excitement palpable.

Verse 2 (Slightly more upbeat, reflecting the passage of time with a more mature tone)

Male Singer:

Samajhdar ban gayi thi meri pyaari beti,

Har kadam par thi wo mere saath ki jaane,

Woh sapnon ka aangan ab sach hone ko tha,

Par ab bhi wo choti si bachi meri hi thi...

(My dear daughter had grown so wise,

At every step, she was the essence of my support,

The courtyard of dreams was ready to come true,

But still, she was that little girl of mine...)

Prachi, now 18, poses proudly with her diploma in hand. Raj watches her with pride and a touch of sadness, realizing how fast she has grown. They sit together on a bench, Raj placing his hand on her head, blessing her as she leans on his shoulder.

CHORUS (Repeat, but with deeper emotional intensity)

Male Singer (Rajeshwaran's inner voice):

Rajkumari meri, ab waqt aaya hai,

Tere sapne pure karne ka, yeh safar hai naya,

Teri khushi mein hai meri khushi chhupi hui,

Main toh bas tera haath thaam ke chala...

Tera haath thaam ke chala

(My princess, now the time has come,

To fulfill your dreams, a new journey awaits,

Your happiness hides within mine,

I just walk with your hand in mine...

Walked with your hand in mine.)

The memories fade, and Raj is brought back to the present moment. 

Raj sighs deeply, knowing it's time to let her go. But the thought of her marriage makes his heart heavy. He knows he raised her to be strong and capable, but the idea of her leaving his home is bittersweet.

Male Singer (As the final, emotional outro plays):

Ab waqt aaya hai, nayi duniya banane ka,

Par yeh dil toh ab bhi wahi hai jahan thi chhoti...

Rajkumari meri, ab door jaa rahi hai,

Meri duaon ka saaya sadaa rahega sath mein...

Tera Haath Thaam Ke Chala...tera haath thaam ke chala

(Now the time has come to build a new world,

But my heart is still where it was when she was little...

My princess is now going far away,

But my blessings will always be with her...

Walked with your hand in mine...walked with your hand in mine)

FADE OUT

His heart is full of love, pride, and a father's quiet sorrow, knowing that his "bittu" is no longer his little girl, but a woman ready to begin her own journey.

The music lingers softly in the background as the scene closes with Raj watching her, his love unspoken, but always felt.

Let us see how things will play out.

The sunlight filtered through the wooden lattice, casting ornate patterns on the floor as she leaned against the doorframe. Her hair, long and unbound, cascaded like a waterfall of deep ebony silk, swaying gently as if in rhythm with the breeze. Strands slipped rebelliously over her face, refusing to be tamed, their loose ends glinting with a hint of gold from the morning light.

Her dupatta, a soft cotton weave in hues of baby pink, draped elegantly over her shoulder and cascaded down her arm. It seemed almost alive, fluttering faintly, its edges brushing against her as she adjusted it absentmindedly.

The delicate chime of her bangles echoed faintly in the quiet room, each movement creating music of its own. 

Silver anklets gleamed softly on her feet, their soft jingles blending with the distant hum of life outside, as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Her eyes were pools of quiet strength, large and expressive, lined with a faint kohl that made them seem even deeper. Above them, a modest bindi, round and scarlet, sat centered on her smooth forehead, like a stamp of elegance.

When she smiled—oh, when she smiled—the air seemed to grow lighter. It wasn't a loud smile; no, it was subtle, tender, and full of a warmth that lingered, as if her lips held stories untold.

"Beta(Daughter!)" her Chacha ji's voice called from the courtyard, breaking the stillness. She turned her head at once, hair sweeping over her shoulder, her bangles clinking softly again. Her voice, when it came, was a melody of respect and affection, "Ji, Chacha ji(Yes, uncle?)"

And just like that, she disappeared down the corridor, leaving behind the lingering echo of anklets and the soft rustle of her dupatta.

Her Chacha ji, a stout man with a warm, weathered face, sat cross-legged on the jute cot under the tree's shade. His white kurta-pajama, though slightly crumpled, carried an air of simplicity and pride. The morning newspaper lay open on his lap, but his eyes weren't on it; they were fixed on her as she approached.

She walked with a graceful ease, her dupatta now carefully tucked over one shoulder, its edges brushing her arm. The faint jingle of her anklets announced her arrival, the sound mingling with the rhythm of her bangles as she carried a small brass tray with two glasses of lassi.

"Chacha ji(Uncle)," she said, her voice soft but firm, bending slightly to set the tray on the cot beside him. The sunlight dappled her face through the neem leaves, and her smile was a delicate curve, enough to make his stern demeanor soften.

"Beta(Daughter)," he said, setting the newspaper aside, "Badi chinta hoti hai tumhari. Akele sab sambhaal leti ho ghar ka, apna khayal kaise rakhti ho(I am very worried about you. You take care of everything at home alone, how do you take care of yourself?)"

She laughed lightly, the sound as melodious as the wind chime hanging near the door. "Aap toh chinta mat kariye, Chacha ji. Aap sabke liye hoon na (Don't worry, uncle. I am here for you all, right?)

He shook his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "Baatein banani toh tujhse koi seekhe. Par dekho, beta, koi zarurat ho toh mujhe batao. Main hoon, hamesha (Someone should learn from you how to speak about things. But look, daughter, if you need anything, let me know. I am always here.)"

Her eyes softened as she folded her hands in a quiet gesture of gratitude, the scarlet bindi on her forehead catching the sunlight. "Ji, Chacha ji(Yes, Uncle)," she said, her voice steady.

He picked up a glass of lassi, taking a long sip before nodding approvingly. "Waisi hi bani hai, jaise tumhari maa banati thi. Saaf aur swadisht (It is made just like your mother used to make. Neat and tasty.)"

From behind the pillar, a cheerful voice rang out, breaking the calm of the courtyard.

"Jiji!"

Namrata came bounding in, her youthful energy like a gust of fresh wind. Her ponytail swung wildly as she hurried toward them, a wide grin lighting up her round face. She wore a simple kurti and jeans, her dupatta draped haphazardly over one shoulder. A smudge of rangoli powder stained her cheek, unnoticed in her excitement.

"Jiji, mujhe aapki madad chahiye! Diwali ka sajawat karna hai, aur mujhe samajh nahi aa raha ki kahan se shuru karun (I need your help! We have to decorate for Diwali and I don't know where to start.)" she said in one breath, plopping herself on the edge of the cot and nearly knocking over the tray of lassi.

Prachi steadied the tray with practiced ease, her bangles jingling softly as she smiled at her younger cousin's antics. "Arre, sambhal ke, Choti! Rangoli ka asar hai ya lassi ka (Hey, be careful, Little sister! Is it the effect of Rangoli or Lassi?)" she teased, flicking a bit of powder from Namrata's cheek.

Namrata pouted dramatically. "Bas, Jiji! Aap bhi mazaak banati ho. Sach mein, madad karna! Maa ne kaha diya lagao, lekin mujhe toh vichaaron chahiye (Enough, jiji! You also make fun of me. Really, help me! Mom told me to keep lamps, but I want an idea.)" 

Chacha ji chuckled, his kind eyes twinkling as he took another sip of lassi. "Namrata beta, tumhare Jiji ke paas har sawaal ka jawab hamesha hota hai. Par ek baat suno, ghar ki sajawat sirf sajawat se nahi hoti—dil bhi saaf hona chahiye. Samjhi (Namrata, your sister always has an answer to every question in your mind. But listen to this, the decoration of the house is not just about decoration – the heart should also be clean.)" 

Namrata made a face, nudging him lightly. "Papa ji, main toh pehle se achhi hoon. Diwali ke liye sirf ghar banana hai(Papa ji, I am better than before. Just want to make the house for Diwali.)" 

Prachi stood, brushing off her dupatta and fixing Namrata with a mock-stern gaze. "Acha, chalo, main tumhari madad karti hoon. Lekin ek shart hai—tumne baad mein rangoli ki saari safai karni hai (Well,come on, let me help you. But there is one condition – you have to do all the cleaning of the rangoli afterwards.)"

"Kaam katham(Done!)" Namrata chirped, jumping up and pulling Prachi along. "Aur batao, Jiji! Kaunse rang ka toran? Aur diya kis jagah lagana hai(Tell me more, sister! What color archway? And where should the lamp be placed?)" 

Prachi glanced back at Chacha ji, her smile softening as she saw him watching them with quiet pride. He gave a small nod as if to say, "Go on."

The two sisters hurried off, Namrata's bubbly chatter filling the air. The courtyard now felt lighter, brighter, alive with the warmth of family and the promise of Diwali's joy.

One morning, as the sun cast golden rays over the misty peaks, Namrata came running into Prachi's room, breathless with excitement.

"Jiji! Tumhein maloom hai na aaj bazaar mein wo rang birange dupatte aaye hain (Sister, do you know that those colorful dupattas are available in the market today?) " she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.

Prachi chuckled, looking up from the diya she was decorating. "Haan, mujhe pata hai, Choti. Par hum bazaar kis liye jaa rahe hain? Dupatte toh tumhare paas bohot hain (Yes, I know, little one. But why are we going to the market? You have so many dupattas!)" 

Namrata pouted, folding her arms. "Arey jiji! Ye naye hain, aur tumhare liye leke aayenge. Tumhara rang in pe aur khil jaayega(Hey sister! These are new, and it will be brought for you. Your color will blossom further on these!)" 

Prachi's cheeks flushed slightly. She was unaccustomed to thinking of herself this way, but Namrata's enthusiasm was contagious. Relenting, she finally nodded.

"Toh chalo phir, hum dono bazaar jaate hain. Par waada kar, zyada kharch nahi karenge(So come on, let us both go to the market. But promise me you won't spend too much) ," Prachi said, giving a small smile.

Namrata laughed, grabbing Prachi's hand. "Tum kyun fikr karti ho, jiji? Main hoon na! Waise bhi, main apni jiji ko sabse sundar dekhna chahti hoon (Why do you worry, sister? I am here! Anyway, I want to see my sister the most beautiful.)" 

When they reached the bustling market, Namrata's excitement was infectious. She dragged Prachi from one stall to another, showing her every little trinket and fabric that caught her eye. At one point, she picked up a dark blue dupatta with intricate silver embroidery and placed it on Prachi's shoulder.

"Dekho, jiji! Kitna sundar lagta hai tumpe! Tumhe apne rang ka andaza bhi hai(Look, ji! How beautiful you look! Do you even know your color?)" she asked, admiring her sister.

Prachi looked at herself in the mirror, a little shy. "Arrey, mujhe kya sundar lagna? Yeh toh tumhare liye hai, Choti(Hey, why should I look beautiful? This is for you, little one)," she said softly.

Namrata shook her head vigorously. "Nahi, nahi, yeh toh sirf tumhare liye hi hai! Aur waise bhi, main apni jiji ko hamesha sundar se sundar dekhna chahti hoon (No, no, this is just for you! And anyway, I always want to see my sister as beautiful as possible.)" 

Just then, a few girls from Namrata's school passed by and smiled at Prachi.

"Namaste, Prachi didi! Aap toh bohot pyaari lag rahi hain(Hello, Prachi Didi! You are looking so cute)" one of them said with a respectful nod.

Prachi blushed and nodded in return, slightly overwhelmed by the attention. Namrata grinned proudly, as if she herself had earned the compliments for her sister.

"Aaj toh mere saath Prachi jiji hain(Prachi sister is with me today)" she announced proudly, clutching her sister's hand. "Hamari jiji toh sab se achi hain(Our sister is the best of all!)" 

That evening, as they returned home, Babita watched from the kitchen doorway, noticing how close the two sisters had grown. She couldn't help but feel a tug at her heart. Rajeshwaran, seeing her silent observation, came up beside her.

"Dekho Babita, dono behne kitni acchi lagti hain saath mein, hain na(Look Babita, both sisters look so good together, don't they)" he said gently, trying to reassure her.

Babita forced a small smile. "Haan, bilkul (Yes, absolutely!)" 

Just then, Namrata and Prachi entered, arms linked, laughing at some shared joke. Spotting her mother, Namrata ran up to Babita, holding out the dupatta they'd bought.

"Maa! Yeh dekho, humne jiji ke liye yeh liya hai. Kitna pyara lagta hai na jiji pe (Mother! Look at this, we have taken this for sister. Looks so cute on my sister, doesn't it?)" 

Babita nodded, her gaze shifting to Prachi, who was standing quietly behind Namrata. There was something so soft, so comforting about her. Babita's heart softened, if only for a moment, as she took the dupatta and gently draped it around Prachi's shoulders.

"Yeh rang tumpe sach mein acha lagta hai, Prachi(This color really suits you, Prachi)," she said, her voice softer than usual.

Prachi smiled shyly. "Shukriya, Chachi ji (Thank you, Aunty.)" 

Namrata grinned, oblivious to the complexities around her, and pulled Prachi close. "Dekha, jiji! Maine kaha tha na tum sundar lagogi (See, sister! I told you you would look beautiful!)" 

That night, as the family gathered to light diyas, Prachi and Namrata set up a row of lights around the courtyard, laughing and teasing each other.

"Arrey Choti, diya seedha rakh! Tumhare hansi ke chakkar mein diya gir gaya toh(Hey little one, keep the lamp straight! What if I fall in the trap of your laughter?)" Prachi chided, trying to be stern but failing to hide her laughter.

Namrata giggled. "Jiji, tum hamesha mujhe daanti rehti ho! Par tumhare bina toh kuch bhi acha nahi lagta (Sister, you are always my favorite! But nothing feels good without you.)" She leaned her head on Prachi's shoulder, her voice dropping to a murmur, "Tum sach mein meri sabse achi dost ho(You are truly my best friend!)"

Prachi smiled, placing a hand on her little sister's head, and whispered back, "Aur tum meri jaan ho, Choti. Meri choti behan, jo hamesha mujhe hasi aur khushi deti hai(And you are my life, little one. My little sister, who always makes me laugh and gives me happiness!)"