Chapter 2 — The Mehendi Night: A Secret Written on His Hands
The first rays of dawn entered the courtyard, but the three sisters were still awake. They had spent nearly an hour decorating Chinna's hands and feet with intricate mehendi patterns.
Lakshmi had drawn a delicate mandala on his right palm. Madhavi had decorated his left palm with vines and flowers, while Sravani had covered his feet with tiny paisleys and leafy patterns.
“Look at these designs!” Sravani whispered. “They are prettier than mine.”
“Wait until he wakes up,” Madhavi replied. “I want to see his expression.”
Lakshmi looked at their sleeping brother and shook her head affectionately. “You two are impossible. When he wakes up, we must explain everything.” They placed a light blanket over him and went to their rooms.
At sunrise, Chinna woke with a strange sensation in his hands. He tried to rub his eyes, but his palms felt stiff. When he lifted them toward his face, he froze. His hands were covered in intricate reddish-brown patterns.
“What happened to me?” He sat up abruptly and examined his feet. They too were decorated with beautiful designs.
“MADHAVI! SRAVANI! LAKSHMI!”
His sisters rushed into the courtyard, pretending to be concerned. “What happened, Chinna?” Madhavi asked innocently.
He held up both hands. “Who did this?” Sravani burst out laughing. Madhavi could no longer maintain her serious expression, and even Lakshmi began to smile.
“You decorated my feet too?” Chinna exclaimed.
“Of course!” Madhavi replied. “You worked so hard decorating ours. We wanted you to experience the festival spirit.”
“You could have asked me first!”
His sisters fell silent. Lakshmi sat beside him and gently apologized. “We're sorry, Chinna. We thought it would be a harmless surprise. We shouldn't have done it while you were sleeping.”
After a moment, Chinna sighed. “I was frightened when I saw them. But the designs are beautiful.”
He examined the mandala on his palm. Something about its delicate symmetry fascinated him. He traced the outline with one finger, wondering how the patterns would look once the color darkened.
Sravani noticed his expression. “Do you actually like them?”
“I didn't say that,” he replied quickly.
Madhavi raised an eyebrow. “You don't have to say anything. Your face is telling us everything.” He threw a cushion at her, and the courtyard filled with laughter.
But the conversation took an unexpected turn when Lakshmi noticed a small symbol near Chinna's wrist. It was a design she had never drawn: a circle surrounded by eight petals, with a tiny flame at its center.
“Who made this?” she asked.
Madhavi examined the pattern. “I didn't.” “Neither did I,” said Sravani.
All three sisters looked at their brother. Chinna shook his head. “I was asleep the whole time.”
Lakshmi's smile faded. The symbol looked remarkably similar to the emblem carved above the entrance of the village's ancient Devi temple.
Before anyone could investigate further, the temple bells began ringing. The festival procession would start soon.
“We need to get ready,” Lakshmi announced. “We'll discuss this later.” She turned toward Chinna and smiled. “And you are coming with us.”
“Obviously,” he said.
Madhavi looked at his mehendi-covered hands and grinned. “But we haven't decided what you're going to wear.”
Chinna stared at her suspiciously. “Madhavi, whatever you're planning, the answer is no.”
She exchanged a mischievous glance with Sravani. Neither sister answered. And that silence made Chinna more nervous than anything they could have said.
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