Batukamma Festival

"Manasa, you won't believe this!" I called out, glancing over the office holiday calendar with a mix of surprise and excitement. Dussera was just a few weeks away, and my heart skipped a beat seeing the dates.

Manasa, my colleague and best friend at work, sauntered over to my desk. "What is it?" she asked, peering at the calendar.

“Dussera!” I exclaimed. “It’s right around the corner! This time of the year always makes me nostalgic."

"Manasa, you won't believe this!" I called out, glancing over the office holiday calendar with a mix of surprise and excitement. Dussera was just a few weeks away, and my heart skipped a beat seeing the dates.

Manasa, my colleague and best friend at work, sauntered over to my desk. "What is it?" she asked, peering at the calendar.

“Dussera!” I exclaimed. “It’s right around the corner! This time of the year always makes me nostalgic."

Manasa listened, her eyes lighting up. “That sounds magical! You should go back and celebrate it.”

"I would, but it’s not the same anymore. I lost my parents in a tragic accident a few years ago, and without my mother and sister, it feels incomplete. It’s just me now, and the festival is about celebrating with family, especially other women."

Her face softened with sympathy. "That’s tough, Navya. But maybe going back would still help you reconnect with your roots. You know, revive some of those happy memories."

I sighed. "You’re right. But the one thing I miss the most is that bond with my sister and mom. It’s not the same without them."

She smiled, nudging me. “You could always drag Ranga along! I’m sure he’d love to see you in your element.”

I chuckled, imagining it. “Oh, Ranga would probably die of embarrassment if I made him join in. Batukamma is a women’s festival—he wouldn’t last five minutes!”

Little did I know, a seed of an idea was being planted in that very moment.

That evening, as Ranga and I sat down for dinner, the thought kept circling in my mind. Could Ranga really join me for Batukamma? But in a way that would fulfill my wish of celebrating it with family?

“You know,” I began, cutting into my meal, “Dussera is coming up soon.”

Ranga nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “Are you planning to go to the village?”

I shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I want to, but…it just feels different. Batukamma is a festival for women, and without my mother and sister, I feel like something is missing. You know, I always wished I had a sister-in-law to celebrate with.”

He looked at me, raising an eyebrow. "A sister-in-law? Interesting. Well, you’ve got me. Not exactly the same, but close enough, right?"

A mischievous grin spread across my face. "Actually, I was thinking…what if you became my sister-in-law for the festival?"

Ranga blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

“I mean…what if you transformed into Ragini, my beautiful sister-in-law, just for Batukamma? We could dress you up in a sari, get you all the accessories, and no one would know! You’d blend right in with the women.”

Ranga looked at me like I had lost my mind. “Navya, you’ve officially gone mad.”

I giggled. "Come on, Ranga, just imagine it! It would be fun, and you always say you’d do anything to make me happy, right?"

He groaned, rubbing his temples, but I could see the glint of amusement in his eyes. "You really want me to dress up like a woman?"

“Yes!" I leaned in closer. "It’ll be perfect. We’ll shop for a gorgeous sari, do your makeup, and I’ll turn you into Ragini. Just think about how much fun it would be.”

He sighed dramatically. "You owe me big time for this."

"Deal!" I laughed, already imagining the transformation.

The next day, we set out on our mission—shopping for Ragini’s transformation.

Walking into the bustling sari shop, I was practically bouncing with excitement. “Okay, we need something traditional yet elegant,” I said, eyeing the racks of colorful saris.

Ranga followed behind, clearly nervous. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this…”

The saleswoman greeted us with a smile, and I quickly explained that we were looking for a beautiful sari for a ‘special occasion.’

The saleswoman’s eyes lit up, and she immediately started pulling out different options. “How about this one? Bright orange with gold borders? Or this light pink—it’ll be perfect for the festival season.”

I held the pink sari against Ranga’s shoulder, visualizing him as Ragini. “Hmm, this could work,” I said thoughtfully. “Let’s try it on!”

Ranga’s eyes widened. “Try it on?!”

“Of course!” I grinned. “We need to see how Ragini will look, right?”

Ranga reluctantly stepped into the changing room, and when he emerged, draped in the pink sari, I couldn’t help but gasp. "Oh my God, you’re going to be stunning!”

He fidgeted with the fabric. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You look amazing!" I said, ignoring his protests. “Now let’s find some matching jewelry.”

We spent the next hour picking out bangles, earrings, and a delicate necklace. The bindi was the final touch—a tiny speck of beauty to complete the look. With each item, I could feel my excitement growing.

Later, we headed to a nearby beauty store, where I picked out foundation, kohl, and lipstick. “This is going to be so much fun,” I said, gleefully adding a set of hair extensions to the basket.

Ranga raised an eyebrow. “You’re really going all out with this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” I winked, already envisioning his transformation.

**Part 4: The Transformation**
The day of Batukamma arrived, and I set up a small beauty station in our room, filled with makeup and jewelry. Ranga sat in front of the mirror, looking a mix of nervous and amused.

“Alright, time to turn you into Ragini!” I announced, tying his hair back and getting to work.

First, I applied foundation, blending it carefully to give his skin a soft, feminine glow. Then, I lined his eyes with kohl, giving them a dramatic, captivating look. Ranga kept glancing at the mirror, raising an eyebrow as I transformed him inch by inch.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered, but there was a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“You’re going to look gorgeous, trust me!” I said, adding a touch of blush to his cheeks.

The sari came next, carefully draped around him, with me guiding his hands on how to pleat and tuck it. Then came the jewelry—delicate bangles sliding onto his wrists, earrings sparkling in the light, and a necklace resting perfectly on his chest.

Finally, I placed the bindi in the center of his forehead, completing the transformation. I stepped back, admiring my work. Ranga—no, Ragini—stood before me, a vision of grace and elegance.

“Look at you!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands in delight. “You’re stunning!”

He turned to the mirror, eyes wide. "Is that…me?"

I nodded, beaming. “Meet Ragini.”

When we arrived at the village, Ragini fit right in with the crowd of women, each of them adorned in bright saris, carrying their Batukammas to the festival grounds. The villagers were welcoming, greeting us warmly, and no one batted an eyelid at Ragini’s presence.

We joined the other women in song, dancing around the Batukammas, and as Ragini twirled in the midst of the festival, I couldn’t help but feel my heart swell with joy. Watching Ranga embrace the role, and seeing the villagers accept him with open arms, brought back the warmth of my childhood.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the sounds of the festival filled the air, I realized something. I wasn’t just celebrating Batukamma. I was celebrating the bond I had longed for—a sister-in-law who was also my best friend.

Ranga, now Ragini, had given me a gift far greater than any festival tradition could. He had given me a sense of home, of belonging, and a new way to relive my most cherished memories.