#bangles for saree

[pinkb-3-rries]

[plantedplanty]

[valayaa]

Discover Elegance: The Ultimate Fancy Sarees Collection by Valayaa

In the realm of ethnic fashion, sarees have always held a special place, symbolizing grace, tradition, and timeless beauty. Among the myriad of saree styles available, the Fancy Sarees Collection stands out for its blend of traditional aesthetics with contemporary designs. Valayaa, a renowned name in ethnic fashion, brings to you an exquisite Fancy Sarees Collection that caters to diverse tastes and occasions.

The Essence of Valayaa's Fancy Sarees Collection

Valayaa's Fancy Sarees Collection is a testament to the brand's commitment to quality, craftsmanship, and innovation. Each saree in this collection is meticulously designed, ensuring that it not only looks stunning but also offers unparalleled comfort. Whether you're attending a wedding, a festive celebration, or a formal event, Valayaa's Fancy Sarees Collection has something for every occasion.

Diverse Designs for Every Taste

The Fancy Sarees Collection by Valayaa boasts a wide array of designs, fabrics, and embellishments. From intricate embroidery to shimmering sequins, each saree reflects a unique charm. The collection includes:

Silk Sarees: Known for their rich texture and sheen, Valayaa's silk sarees are perfect for grand occasions.

Chiffon and Georgette Sarees: Lightweight and flowy, these sarees are ideal for parties and casual gatherings.

Net Sarees: With delicate embroidery and embellishments, net sarees add a touch of glamour to any event.

Cotton Sarees: Combining comfort with style, cotton sarees in the Fancy Sarees Collection are perfect for daily wear and office settings.

Craftsmanship and Quality

What sets Valayaa's Fancy Sarees Collection apart is the impeccable craftsmanship. Each saree is crafted by skilled artisans who pay attention to every detail, ensuring that the final product is nothing short of perfection. The use of high-quality fabrics and materials ensures durability, allowing you to cherish these sarees for years to come.

Customization and Personalization

Understanding that every individual has unique preferences, Valayaa offers customization options in their Fancy Sarees Collection. From choosing the fabric to selecting the type of embroidery, customers can personalize their sarees to match their style and requirements. This bespoke approach ensures that each saree is a reflection of the wearer's personality.

Affordable Luxury

While the Fancy Sarees Collection exudes luxury and elegance, Valayaa ensures that these masterpieces are accessible to a wide audience. By maintaining a balance between quality and affordability, Valayaa allows customers to indulge in premium sarees without straining their budgets.

Perfect for Every Occasion

Valayaa's Fancy Sarees Collection is versatile, catering to various events and settings:

Weddings: Make a statement with opulent silk or heavily embroidered sarees.

Festivals: Celebrate in style with vibrant and colorful sarees that capture the festive spirit.

Corporate Events: Opt for elegant and understated designs that exude professionalism.

Casual Outings: Choose from lightweight and comfortable sarees for day-to-day wear.

Styling Tips for Fancy Sarees

To make the most of your saree from the Fancy Sarees Collection, consider the following styling tips:

Blouse Design: Pair your saree with a contrasting or embellished blouse to enhance the overall look.

Accessories: Compliment your saree with statement jewelry, such as chandelier earrings or a bold necklace.

Footwear: Choose heels or traditional juttis that match the saree's color palette.

Hairstyle: Opt for hairstyles that suit the occasion, be it a sleek bun for formal events or loose curls for casual gatherings.

Easy Shopping Experience

Valayaa ensures a seamless shopping experience for its customers. With an intuitive website, detailed product descriptions, and high-resolution images, customers can browse and select their desired sarees with ease. Additionally, Valayaa offers prompt customer support to assist with any queries or concerns.

Sustainability and Ethical Practices

Valayaa is committed to sustainable and ethical practices. By sourcing eco-friendly materials and ensuring fair wages for artisans, the brand promotes responsible fashion. Customers can take pride in knowing that their purchase supports ethical craftsmanship.

Conclusion

Valayaa's Fancy Sarees Collection is a celebration of elegance, tradition, and contemporary design. With a diverse range of sarees crafted to perfection, Valayaa caters to every woman's sartorial needs. Whether you're dressing up for a grand event or seeking everyday elegance, the Fancy Sarees Collection by Valayaa promises to elevate your style quotient.

[ereturngifts]

eReturnGifts.com: The Best Return Gifts for all occasions at whole sale price

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Aromatic candles and traditional handicrafts.

Small idols or decorative home decor items.

3. Housewarming Return Gifts:

Planters and gardening kits.

Elegant kitchenware, coasters, or spice jars.

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[swapnagandhacollection]

स्वप्नगंधा कलेक्शनमध्ये आकर्षक, विविध रंगातल्या आणि आकाराच्या राख्या उपलब्ध आहेत. सहा किंवा अधिक राख्यांची मागणी असल्यास या राख्या आम्ही कुरिअर सर्व्हिसद्वारे परगावीही पाठवतो. 

[chetanbangles]

Stylish Black Designer Crop-Top | Trendy Women's Fashion Wear Discover the elegance and style of our Black Designer Crop-Top, perfect for any fashion-forward wardrobe. This trendy crop-top is designed to make you stand out with its chic and versatile look. Whether you're heading out for a casual day out or a night on the town, this crop-top is your go-to choice. Watch the video to see how you can pair it with different outfits for a stunning look. Don't forget to like, comment, and subscribe for more fashion tips and trendy wear!

[ookaryi]

Nahida redesign! Breakdown below

So I adore Nahida as character, but especially as a southasian I always wished she would have more cultural motifs in her design. I really wanted to see something that could be realistically in the game, that adds to the original, while retaining the few great details hyv put in her design so I thought why not do it myself!

I based her dress on the lehenga instead of having the basic dress, as it's closest to her silhouette (missed opportunity!!!!!!). Its traditional wear, yet not as ancient as the saree which i thought fits nahidas youthfulness. Tbh I just split the dress in 2 lol, as i love her patterns

These prominently feature the bodhi leaf, which in buddhism symbolizes enlightenment and wisdom. So it was important for me to not alter those elements, and I changed almost nothing else on the dress.

What I did change are the sleeve things (?) To an actual dupatta, which is a type of long scarf. Put even more bodhi symbols there. Sorry for bad pic

Additionally I added a maang tikka (head jewelry) and earrings. I kept her bangle and the ghanta bell (used in hindu rituals) on the back as these are the other cultural elements she has.

The Mehndi design is a Lotus to reference one of her inspirations: Anahita, persian goddess of wisdom and flowing waters and where Nahida's name comes from. She is also inspired by hindu goddesses like Saraswati (also goddess of wisdom and more), Aranyani (forest goddess) , a forest fairy from the buddhist Kusanali Jataka tale, and likely even more.

And for the last detail: I gave her anklets, in reference to Aranyani/Rukkhadevata.

One of Rukkhadevatas title was Queen Aranyani, and the actual real goddess is said to have worn anklets with bells that were heard in the forest. Tho I removed the bells, since Rukkhadevata is dead and forgotten now, and so you can't hear her anymore. :')

Bc of it's purpose it's not the flashiest design, but I had so much fun researching, learning so many new things and trying to incorporate them back to Nahidas design! If someone educated has more to add or something I can correct I'd love to hear :)

[amethystheartsx]

LADS MEN SEEING YOU IN TRADITIONAL WEAR FOR THE FIRST TIME (Desi Version Pt.1)

(Content under the cut cause I am gonna ramble first😭)

SFW, fluff, mildly suggestive I think?

AN: guys!!!! I am crying the reaction for my last head cannon post was very overwhelming I was expecting like 5 notes and maybe 2 re blogs but damn you guys showed me so much love so I felt like it was my responsibility to pay back for such kindness, so here it is.

Also asks are open for those who want to request something, it doesn't have to be Desi centric anything you want, xx.

Ps. The outfits described are inspired by the ones I have owned lol. (Sorry got in too depth of the details you can skip thats)

Ps. Part two will be out in two days max.

Xavier

It wasn't everyday you choose to dress up in your traditional wear, not because it wasn't something you wanted it was only because there weren't that many occasions.

So, when one of you closes cousin got hitched you knew you were going to go all out, because hey! What is a Desi event, if not a better version of Met Gala.

Xavier was quite excited to see you too mostly because you would not stop buzzing about the saree you had ordered from the boutique , every time you two met since the day you ordered it, you couldn't keep your mouth shut, you chose not to show him anything or tell him the color since you wanted to see a raw reaction.

The day arrived quickly you waited for Xavier to arrive at the venue since you had went to the brides home and got ready there and went with her to the venue, as much as Xavier wanted to go with you as he felt a but awkward, he understood that right now you needed to be with your girl.

One of your other cousin escort him inside the venue as he was now also a cherished member of the family and it wasn't long when Xavier's eyes, that somehow were a little too good at spotting you no matter the crowd, fell on you and he held his breath, completely and utterly stunned.

There you stand in all your glory with a shimmering rose-gold saree that draped gracefully around you. The blouse, fitted and elegant, had delicate embroidery along the sleeves and the saree’s border was adorned with intricate silver embellishments, glinting softly like scattered stars. It hugged your frame, flowing down to the floor in smooth, silky folds. Bangles jingled on your wrists, and a golden pendant rested against collarbone beautiful and henna design on your hand and the hair up do decorated with with white flowers, completing the timeless, ethereal look. Xavier's heart was thumping loud, he gave you a once over. You looked nothing less like royalty. Some he would willingly bow his head in front of and be honored.

"Xavier!" You called out rushing towards him, or well trying too, and pulled him in an embrace and his arms wrap around you almost dropping the gift he had brought with him, catching a few look from the aunties but you did not care one bit, you had been separated far too long. "Xavier I was waiting- uh Xavier?" You pulled away from the hug to look at him only to be met with his piercing sapphire gaze "why would you deprive me of such look, my star." he almost sound offended at the fact you never graced his eyes with such astounding beauty before.

Regardless of his accusations you chuckled "are you trying to say that I look pretty?" You say your head tilted.

Xavier shakes his head with a sigh "pretty is such small word, I don't think that's how I will describe it" he says, he reaches out touch the the strand of hair that you meticulously left into curls, they wrap around his finger and Xavier leans down to kiss it since he couldn't kiss your face like he wanted, worried he might ruin the makeup. Mind full of the fact you must have spend good chunk of time and effort to perfect it for the event.

"Then how would you describe it" you poke, there was no way you would let him go, after all you wanted to look pretty for him too.

Xavier's loving gaze intensified into something more lust full "how about I show you instead my little star" he says looking down at your neck line, shamelessly peeking at cleavage and spoke "is there a room-ow" he was cut off, you pinched his arm with a flustered face "Xavier! The event haven't even started and you are trying to ruin my look" you whisper yell at him and he only smirked. "What can I say my little star, the way you look right now I will not be keeping my hands of you" Xavier declares as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and you roll your eyes "as if you ever keep your hands off me" you say and he just shrugged "I will touch what is right fully mine, you can not stop me" he says kissing the crown of your head, he could feel the pout forming on your lips. " can't you compliment me normally for once, xavy?"

His lips quirked up in smile, his hand finally moved from your waist, now holding your hand as he brings it up to his face placing gentle kiss on the knuckle, peeking at his name on your wrist, that made him much more smug "you look gorgeous my love" he kisses the fingers "graceful" another kiss, this time on the wrist right by his name "elegant and-" he takes deep breath before continuing "breathtaking"

A blush crept up your cheek and you giggled, now satisfied and you opened up your mouth to say something when one aunty who was turning green with envy, decided to interrupt "oh you two, the the function is about start move along" she scolds, Xavier turns to her his face contorted in annoyance, he looks back at you and you shook your head the turn to the lady "we will be right there, let's go Xavier!" With one last look you both left the woman alone.

And for the rest of the night Xavier followed you around holding your anchal, making sure no one bothers you in any sort of way.

Zayne

Black on black is zaynes favorite combination for most of the occasions, and even now after you had infiltrated his wardrobe and his life, he still had lots of outfit in that color code. It was your first time wearing something like this since ever since you came here to linkon it was hard to find traditional wear, zayne had it custom made it for you by a well known boutique owner, and you thought it was time to finally wear it and show it to him.

So, for tonight's hospital banquet you decided to follow that, you figured that's what he will show up in black on black again so might as well match together like the power couple you are.

So you picked out the brand new qameez suit, knowing zayne he would be nagging you in the next 5 minutes since that's when they had planned to leave the house. You picked up the pace, completing the light gold eye makeup with prominent eyeliner, stepping back you examined yourself from head to toe, feeling pretty confident in your look.

It was a simple yet stylish black outfit, consisting of a long, straight-cut qameez with subtle sequin embroidery scattered across the fabric, the shimmers under the warm light. The qameez had a round neckline and sheer, full-length sleeves with delicate patterns that added a soft texture to the otherwise plain design. Underneath, it had a matching black shalwar falling just above the ankles.

A lightweight black dupatta, its edges adorned with embroidered motifs that mirrored the design on her qameez. A small, round white clutch with a beaded pattern, which stood out against the dark tones of the attire. You add matching jhumkas.

Just then your Mr.husband called out "we are late darling" making you roll your eyes out "five more minutes!" Calling back and leaned over the counter and begin to apply a deep shade of red that looked confident and classy kind of sexy with over all look.

Zayne walked in cleaning his glasses, putting them on with practiced ease "Dear we were suppose to-" his words were caught in his throats as he looks at you "oh.." He unconsciously steps towards you while you were still applying the red lipstick adding a little bit of a gloss on top if it, your eyes moved up to look at him through the reflection "hmm?" Before going right back to task at hand, lightly smacking your lips making sure nothing was out of line.

Zayne clears his throat "nothing, its just....I was aware you'd be looking beautiful in this attire but I what I did not expect you to look this...ravishing" he breaths out. In an instant could feel swarm of butterflies creating havoc in your tummy "mhm? Ravishing? Dr. Zayne this is a modest outfit I was suppose to look modest and classy" you couldn't help but laugh at the iron as you turn to face only to meet his smoldering gaze that you were still somehow not used and got easily flustered.

He steps closer only couple feet away from you, your back pressed on the counter. "I know I am well aware, however, its not the dress my love" he holds your chin making you look up at him l, his eyes on your redden lip "its you who is ravishing" he says as he smirks, his pointy canine on display.

And just like that something in you short circuited, stuttering incoherently you tried to shoo him off saying you needed to find your heels, but he remain firm. "I got you something" he says in his breathy tone opening the jacket of his coat and fishing out two pair of gajrays, that he wordlessly puts on you and you had the biggest smile on your face that was until you noticed he was wearing grey and brown suit instead. Zayne notices your brows knit together and he knew what was coming, you going on a rampage "zaynie, I thought you were going to wear black you always wear black all the time and so I wore black too I told you I was gonna wear the black attire you got, and so you should have gotten the hint to wear black too instead you wear grey and fricken brown I mean we were suppose to look like power couple tonight mmf-" he cuts you off, a finger pressed on the plush of your lips "no need to be fussy I'll go change for you, begum" and just like that you were melted, making his smirk bigger, tsk its too damn easy now for him. You nod and he removes his finger, red stain of your lips on his finger that he licks off making you blush harder "okay okay go now" you says pushing him out not wanting to look at his smug face because damn it this man had you eating out of his palm at times.

And you know what? You wouldn't have it any other way.

Rafayel

Rafayel had been screaming-crying-throwing up, begging on the floor, for you to wear a lehnga for him. He had saw you once scrolling through your Pinterest looking at pretty lehnga and was hit with tremendous force of inspiration. Rafayel had painted you, a lot, like way over the normal amount should be. In many ways and using different color hues and settings, they were all so stunning, you loved them all so much and honestly it was such and ego boost every time he showed his painting of you, but he always complained about not being able to capture your true beauty. That was until he saw you looking at the Pinterest and realized he hadn't seen you in your traditional wear ever, let alone paint you in it, and right after that day he had been on your case to wear it for you.

Its not that you didnt want to wear it was just that you couldn't find one. When you made the mistake of telling him that you found him on the phone with none other then The Zainab Chotani. You knew you had to intervene. You told him you will find a dress on your own but it was too late he had placed the order one of the elites of south Asian fashion because of course his darling couldn't have anything less then that.

"Cutieeeee how much longerrrr?" Rafayel whines from outside the locked room, you had strictly told him not to enter or he will be getting his ass kicked, as protest rafayel had camped outside, sitting by the door, waiting.

Once you were ready you took a deep breath and leave the room. She made her way to the studio and sees him sitting on the stool with a big canvas in front of him, he was sulking ofcourse.

"Just a little longer this stupid fricken teeka, is NOT fixing" you reply to him, it was taking long yes because your beloved lemurian had ordered you a Bridal lehnga. you could here shuffling outside followed by loud knocking "then open the door and let me in I'll help" the impatient artist says but you you wouldn't let him nuh uh. "Rafayel I am almost done please just go to the studio I'll be there damn!" You exasperated "fine...always so mean to me" he mumbles and steps back going back to the studio.

You wore a stunning sky-blue bridal lehenga, intricately embroidered with shimmering silver and gold threadwork. When you twirl the lehenga flared gracefully like gentle waves of the sea, detailed patterns across the skirt, which caught the light with every movement. The fitted blouse was equally adorned with embellishments, a modest neckline and long sleeves that added an elegant touch.

"Rafayel....I am here" she says and he turns too look at you excitement brimming his eyes but that soon turned into awe.

Draped over one shoulder was a rich maroon velvet shawl, contrasting beautifully with the cool blue tones of her outfit. The shawl was bordered with elaborate gold embroidery and scalloped edges, giving it a regal finish. Another lighter blue dupatta, matching the lehenga, was delicately placed over her head.

Her jewelry was traditional and elaborate, a maang tikka rested on her forehead, a teardrop-shaped pendant. She wore a choker necklace layered with cascading strands of pearls a visible ode to his lemurian heritage, adding depth and luxury to her look. Her hands were adorned with intricate henna designs, enhancing the overall bridal look.

And rafayel....well poor guy had fallen from his stool, he had tried to get up very quickly and tripped. "Raffy!" You tried to approach him but he was on his feet already moving towards you "I am fine I am okay, its just you....wow" he breaths his hand reaching out barely touch her face, an artist admiring a masterpiece, scared to ruin it. "You like it?" You ask holding his hand leaning onto his touch. "I love it" he replies in a reverent tone.

Rafayel holds both of your hands kissing each of them, the action making you blush a crimson shade, turning your face away "don't" he warns "let me admire you" he says as you turn back to him. Rafayel drops to his knees feeling like thats how he should be, where he should be. "Maybe I should just marry you now, its been too.damn.long" he says vulnerability lacing his voice.

The thought made you giddy and you pinch his cheek "well i am in a bridal lehnga, let's just do it" you says and he smirks getting up from his spot and aiming straight to get his coat "let me find my shoes and we are done" he says making you giggle "you know I am joking you silly fish" you follow him and soft sound of your Bengals echoes. Rafayel turns to you and pout "tsk now that's just mean, but whatever you say cutie, just know I will not be waiting long" he says and make you roll your eyes at him again until you see him going over his canvas and removing it

"I am, its just this canvas isn't big enough to capture what I have in mind" rafayel smirks.

"Wait weren't you going to paint me?"

And this is basically the story behind his mural of you in the living room, you with your lehnga all spread out and him on with his head on your lap.

[n0cturnnymph]

fluff. kento helping you with your blouse. nanami kento x desi!reader

The soft click of the apartment door echoed in the quiet night as you stepped out of your heels with a sigh, wiggling your toes on the cool floor. Once perfectly draped and pinned with surgical precision, your pink saree now felt heavy on your shoulder, your body aching from hours of smiling, hugging, and dodging relatives' questions about when your baby shower would be.

Kento shut the door behind you gently, his suit jacket already folded over one arm. His tie had been loosened in the car, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, timeless and handsome didn’t even begin to describe him.

You made your way towards your shared bedroom, both floating in the quiet afterglow of your aunt's baby shower. It had been beautiful, your whole family had shown up in bright colors, and the house had smelled like roses and incense. Your aunts and mom led the baby shower ceremony, circling the mom-to-be with trays of rice, flowers, and gifts, singing blessings with joy.

You, however, were outside, nursing homemade lemonade while your cousins tried to figure out which side of the family one person was from. Kento had stuck close, hovering beside you like a quiet shield. He didn’t ask about the ceremony. He didn’t pretend to understand why the baby bump got blessed with rice. 

He just fit. Like he always did.

At one point, your niece offered him a piece of dessert with sticky hands, and he accepted it with a soft “thank you, sweetheart.” That was when your aunt whispered, “he’s a keeper.���

You set your bangles on the vanity table, then moved to the stubborn safety pins near your shoulder. The weight of the saree had made them shift, and now they wouldn’t budge.

Kento noticed. “Need help?”

You met his eyes in the mirror. Warm, steady. You nodded, lifting your hair out of the way.

He stepped closer and unfastened the pins carefully, his fingers moving slowly and reverently. You felt the light tug of fabric loosening, the air brushing against your skin.

“Do you need help with the blouse too?” he asked gently, his hands still hovering near your shoulders.

You paused. Nodded once.

His fingers were warm against the small of your back, careful, reverent. He worked slowly, not because he didn’t know how, the man learned after your second wedding function together, but because he treated it like a ritual. His fingers brushed your skin lightly as he unhooked each clasp, his breath soft against your shoulder.

Before you could say anything else, you felt his arms circle around your waist from behind. His cheek rested near your temple, his palms warm as they rubbed slow, soothing circles into your sides.

“You looked beautiful tonight,” he murmured, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “They couldn’t stop looking at you. Neither could I.”

 “Pretty sure, they were staring at you.” You smiled, closing your eyes. His scent, soap, sandalwood, and something utterly Kento wrapped around you, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“I was worried,” you whispered. “About… all of them. Staring and judging.”

Kento didn’t respond right away. He held you closer, his hand pressing lightly against your stomach, the other drifting up to cup your shoulder where the blouse hung loose.

“They weren’t judging you,” he said quietly, almost against your skin. “They were wondering how someone like me got someone like you.” 

You huffed a soft laugh, but it broke halfway through, tugging something in your chest. His words weren’t sugary—they never were. But they settled deep, warm, and sure, the way everything from him always did.

You reached up and touched his hand at your waist. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You were so good with them. My mom loves you, you know?” You turned in his arms, fully, and rested your forehead against his chest. He held you without question, rubbing your back slowly.

“I didn’t do much.”

“You didn’t have to,” you said softly. “My family can be… a lot. But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t perform. And they could tell. That’s why they liked you. Not because you fit in, but because you were just yourself.”

“You make it easy.”

“Come on,” he murmured, thumb tracing along your jaw. “Let’s get you out of this before you collapse.”

You let him guide you gently out of the last remnants of your saree, then into an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts. He settled beside you, fingers kneading slow, soothing circles into your tired leg. The steady rhythm was a quiet promise—a wordless ceremony of care and love.

author's note: my mother would love nanami kento. this isn't proofread and is a bit indulgent. i'll write more jjk x desi!reader.

[mournfulroses-00]

Enough with the long flowly dresses in French renaissance castles. I want to run in my saree in a Rajputana Mahal as my long pallu flows in air behind me and my Payal, Jhoomke and Bangles mark every leap I take with their synchronised sounds, all around the Mahal.

[desigal-26]

ME AGAIN (the bengali req) you cooked so good with that one, may i perchance request another❓🙈🥴 bengali reader(maybe soem bangladeshi traits as well) and any driver of your choice or maybe multiple like you did before, where they hear reader talk in bangla and their reaction to it basically ORRRRR them meeting reader's family for the first time mAYHAPS🙏🏼 ily gurl youre the best😽 feel free to make any changes and take your timeeeee

There was something technically wrong because of which I couldn’t respond to your other response. But here’s what i had written (I edited the response e accordingly 😅):

Glad you liked the post, I was actually quite scared because it was my first F1 request. Be as annoying and as dramatic and as Bengali core as you want, you are always welcomed with open arms, rosogulla and mishti doi 🤭. Also, you’re my first emoji anon 🥺

I love love love this ideaaaaa. Also, I added tinges of Saraswati Pujo and Dugga Pujo elements to it because I am honestly missing the Pujo time already 😭, and a bit more Bengali to the scenes more than the last one.

Also, I wrote the Dugga Pujo according to 2025 calender that is 28 Sept. to 2 Oct.

Mishti Doi and Mishti Language

Formula One Drivers x Bengali!Reader

Includes: Carlos Sainz • Oscar Piastri • Charles Leclerc • Lando Norris • Lewis Hamilton • Max Verstappen

Warnings: All fluff. I got a bit emotionally charged for Oscar’s and Lewis’s part explicitly states that Reader is a lawyer (just a little gift for myself). Nothing else.

55. Carlos Sainz

Carlos was not prepared for this.

And he had trained for Monaco in the rain, survived Singapore humidity, and sat through more Ferrari strategy meetings than he cared to count — but this?

This Navami madness?

This was on another level.

“Mi amor,” (my love) he called out over the sound of drums — dhak, she’d told him — “are you sure this isn’t a full-blown wedding?”

The sheer number of people crammed into the Kolkata pandal, all dressed to the nines, should’ve been overwhelming. And yet, she looked like she belonged there — no trace of her usual quietness or introverted shyness. It was like the moment she stepped out of the cab in her red-and-white cotton saree and alta-adorned feet, something in her switched on.

She was glowing. Literally and figuratively.

Her eyes sparkled with childlike excitement, hands gripping his wrist as she dragged him through the crowd. “Come on! They’ll start the pushpanjali in ten minutes— if we’re late, Ma won’t forgive us.”

Carlos blinked. “Ma?”

“Dugga,” she said over her shoulder, her bangles clinking, gold jhumkas swaying with each step. “The goddess. My actual boss.”

Carlos wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t.

Because he’d never seen her like this before — fully alive. No filter. No hesitation. She was speaking fast, switching between English and Bengali, greeting strangers like old friends, directing him with one hand and holding her saree pleats with the other.

He could barely keep up — and he was a Formula 1 driver.

They reached the inner sanctum of the pandal, and suddenly she stopped short, frowning at a group of teenage boys blocking the way.

And then he heard her speak Bengali for the first time. Properly. Fully.

“Ae, dushtu chelegulon, soro ekhan theke! Dekhte pacho na dada asche?” (Hey, naughty boys, move from here! Can’t you see he is coming?)

Carlos blinked, and then laughed in disbelief. “Did you just threaten a bunch of kids for me?”

“They were in my way,” she said innocently, dragging him to the front with practiced ease. “And you were about to get trampled by that lady with the big tray of flowers.”

He was about to respond when the priest began chanting, and she turned to him quickly. “Fold your hands. Close your eyes. Just follow me, okay?”

And he did.

Standing beside her, surrounded by incense smoke and a sea of murmured prayers, Carlos folded his hands like she’d shown him. He peeked once — she had her eyes closed, lips moving quietly in a language he still couldn’t understand, but suddenly wanted to learn.

She looked… not just beautiful, but sacred.

After the pushpanjali, as the crowd shuffled out for prasad, she leaned in with a grin and whispered, “You did good.”

Carlos smirked. “You were yelling at people. In Bengali.”

“Only a little.”

“You’ve never spoken it around me before.”

She shrugged, cheeks flushing a little. “I don’t know… I guess I just keep my worlds separate sometimes.”

Carlos reached out, brushing some vermillion dust off her nose. “Well, I like this world. Especially when you yell at people to make room for me.”

She laughed, tilting her head. “Want to try saying something?” He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Only if it’ll get me extra sweets.”

She rolled her eyes, but he saw the smile pulling at her lips.

“Say Shubho Navami, cariño. That’s all.”

“Shu…bo? Nava-mi?”

She giggled, correcting his accent with a nudge. “Close enough. Come on, let’s get luchi.”

As they walked hand-in-hand toward the food stalls, a couple of aunties leaned over to whisper, loud enough for Carlos to hear:

“Ei meyeta toh jackpot peyeche! Bideshi chele, kintu aato bhodro!” (This girl hit the jackpot! A foreigner, but what a gentleman!)

Carlos leaned closer. “Did she say something about me?”

She smirked. “Maybe.”

He tugged her in. “Tell me.”

She grinned, resting her head briefly on his shoulder. “Later. First, luchi.”

81. Oscar Piastri

Oscar didn’t really understand what “Sindoor Khela” meant.

He’d read about it — a ritual where married women bid farewell to Durga by smearing each other with vermillion, like one last burst of red before the goddess returned to her celestial home. But she hadn’t explained much. Just told him it was Dashami, the final day, and asked quietly if he’d go with her to the little makeshift pandal at the Bengali community centre in Melbourne.

He had said yes instantly.

Mostly because she’d looked like she might cry if he didn’t.

Now, standing barefoot in a small hall scented with incense and flowers, watching her walk slowly toward the idol of Dugga — he felt like he was witnessing something sacred. Not religious, not even ceremonial — just… personal.

She looked beautiful.

Not the Instagram kind. The real kind.

A white saree with red borders, the laal paar, her hair pulled into a bun with a few strands already escaping from the coastal wind. No jewelry except for little gold jhumkas he’d seen her wear once before. And her hands — her fingers — were stained red from the small bowl of sindoor she held in one palm.

But what made him freeze was her voice.

She was talking softly to an elderly woman — one of the aunties who had welcomed her with a kiss to the forehead and an emotional “Tor maer motoi dekhte lagchis re!” (You look just like your mother!)

And then she replied. For the first time. In Bengali.

“Maer shonge ekhono video call e kotha hoye ni. Bujhte parchhi na, bhishon kharap lagchhe.” (I haven’t even spoken to Ma yet on video call. I don’t know, I just feel really off today.)

Oscar didn’t understand the words. But he heard the weight.

Something about the way she said “Ma” made his throat tighten.

He watched from the edge as she touched the idol’s feet gently with her fingertips, then her forehead — lips moving in silent prayer. And then she stood, took a deep breath, and smiled softly at the aunty who dipped her fingers into the sindoor bowl and touched the bright red powder to her parting.

The moment the vermillion met her skin, something broke open in her — and Oscar saw it.

She laughed suddenly, through tears.

A laugh that trembled, like it had been waiting days to come out.

Oscar had seen her quiet. Introverted. Bookish. He’d seen her eyes light up during late-night coding sessions, and her hands fly when she was passionately describing a recipe from home.

But this?

This was her in full bloom.

Red, glowing, rooted.

When she finally turned and saw him watching, her cheeks already streaked with red and her fingers covered in vermillion, she looked momentarily sheepish. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I forgot you were waiting.”

Oscar shook his head, smiling gently. “Don’t apologize. I think I just… saw a whole new side of you.”

She tilted her head. “Is that a good thing?”

He stepped closer, brushing his knuckle over the corner of her cheek where a smear of red lingered. “It’s beautiful,” he said honestly. “I didn’t understand what you were saying. But… you looked like you were home.”

Her smile faltered, just for a second. “I’m not,” she whispered. “But this… helps.”

Oscar leaned in, resting his forehead lightly against hers. “Then we’ll make this feel like home next year, too. And the one after that.”

She closed her eyes. “You’d come again?”

“Only if I get smeared with red too,” he teased.

She grinned, eyes sparkling. “That can be arranged.”

Before he could respond, one of the aunties yelled from behind her, “Ei meyeta! Bideshi chele ke sindoor lagabi na?” (Hey girl! Won’t you put sindoor on your foreign boyfriend?)

Oscar blinked. “Did she say what I think she said?”

She burst into laughter. “Yup. You’re not leaving here clean.”

And before he could protest, she dipped her fingers into the bowl, and with playful, reverent care — smeared a red streak across his cheekbone.

“Now,” she said, laughing, “you’re officially part of Dashami.”

Oscar kissed her temple softly. “And you’re officially part of my everything.”

16. Charles Leclerc

Charles wasn’t supposed to be awake yet.

It was a rare quiet morning in Monaco. No meetings, no simulator work, no training session breathing down his neck — and yet he’d stirred awake at the soft rustling sounds coming from the living room. At first, he thought it might just be her moving around. But then… he heard something.

Words. Rhythmic, melodic. Nothing he could understand.

Not French. Not English. Definitely not Italian.

Bengali.

Charles padded out into the living room, still shirtless, hair a chaotic mess of bed curls, and leaned against the doorframe.

There she was. Sitting cross-legged on a floor cushion, phone pressed to her ear, speaking softly but animatedly, her words flowing like a song he didn’t know the lyrics to but still wanted to hum along to.

He didn’t say a word. Just… watched.

She was dressed in a soft yellow cotton saree — traditional, but still so distinctly her. The pleats were slightly uneven, probably draped in a rush, and her hair was pinned half-up with marigold clips she’d picked up from an Indian store weeks ago. Her bare feet rested on a towel, and in front of her sat a tiny bowl of alta — the deep red liquid glinting like liquid rubies.

The moment made his heart feel still. Reverent. Almost holy.

He didn’t even breathe too loudly, afraid of breaking the spell.

“He, maa, ami pore khichuri banao,” (yes, maa, I will make khichuri later) A pause. Then she rolled her eyes fondly. “Na, Charles khe nebe. Orr toh bhalo lage.” (No, Charles will eat. He likes it)

He smiled.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on her call. Gently, with a practiced ease, she began applying the alta — slowly brushing the red onto the curves of her feet with steady fingers, biting her lip to get the shape right.

Charles had never seen anything like it. Not in Monte Carlo. Not on race tracks or podiums or in the glow of champagne showers.

There was something sacred about her like this.

Effortless. Rooted. Beautiful in a way he didn’t fully understand — but wanted to.

Eventually, she looked up — mid-sentence — and froze.

Her voice caught in her throat. “M—oh, Charles,” she said quickly into the phone, “wait, I’ll call you back.”

She hung up in a flustered rush, eyebrows raised. “You’re up?”

He nodded slowly. “I… yeah. I woke up and then I heard you. Speaking… Bengali?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Oh god. I didn’t mean to wake you, I was just— It’s Saraswati Pujo today. I usually talk to my mum and sister and do some of the rituals and…”

He kept staring, and she grew more nervous.

“What?”

Charles walked over, crouching in front of her and gently picking up her alta-stained hand, holding it between both of his like it was something precious.

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” he murmured.

She blinked.

“I don’t know what you were saying,” he added with a sheepish smile. “But your voice sounded like music. Like poetry. I didn’t want you to stop.”

Her heart melted instantly. “You really liked it?”

He nodded. “I love hearing new parts of you. The ones that don’t translate.”

She softened completely, brushing a bit of alta onto his fingertip before he could protest. He looked at the red stain with fascination.

“What does this mean?” he asked.

She smiled. “Tradition. Femininity. Blessings. Some say it’s to honour the goddess. Others say it’s just…beautiful.”

He held up his stained finger with pride. “Then I’m honoured.”

She giggled, and the sound was brighter than any pujo lamp.

“I’ll teach you some words,” she offered, brushing his messy hair back.

“Only if you promise to keep speaking them,” he said, tugging her closer, “especially when you think I’m not listening.”

04. Lando Norris

Lando had seen her in a lot of colors before — but never like this. Yellow.

She was all yellow — from the soft cotton saree with a golden border to the delicate flower tucked behind her ear, to the small round bindi that sat perfectly between her brows. Not the bold red she wore during Durga Puja. This one was gentle. Thoughtful.

Saraswati Pujo, she had called it.

“The nerdy one,” she’d said with a shy grin. “For students. We pray to the goddess of knowledge, and we’re not supposed to study that day. Like… officially.”

Which, in Lando’s opinion, was the best kind of holiday.

She’d invited him over to her apartment, where a little corner had been transformed into a soft yellow shrine — a printed photo of Maa Saraswati, her veena and swan visible even to his untrained eyes, framed by marigolds and candles. A few books, a fountain pen, and a single white rose were placed neatly at the goddess’s feet.

He sat on the couch, watching as she moved around barefoot on the floor, adjusting things in a very “don’t-mess-with-the-vibe” sort of way. Her usually quiet demeanor had shifted — she was humming a Rabindra Sangeet under her breath, her fingers brushing across the spines of her favorite books like they were sacred.

She looked… at peace.

And then her phone rang.

Lando didn’t mean to eavesdrop — but she picked it up on speaker and said, bright and soft all at once: “he maa, boshe gachi. Sob sajiye niyechi! Tumi dekhle khoob khushi hobe.” (Yes maa, I have sat down. I’ve set everything up! You will be very happy to see it.)

Lando blinked.

He hadn’t ever heard her speak Bengali before.

She spoke so fast — her voice lifting with every sentence, casual but full of affection. He watched as her fingers unconsciously traced little swirls in the floor with the end of her saree while her mother’s voice crackled over the speaker.

“Tui London e pujo korchis—bhabhte hi pare na ami toh.” (I can’t believe you’re doing Pujo in London.)

His heart did this stupid fluttering thing.

Because this wasn’t just her voice — this was her. Unfiltered. Rooted.

She giggled suddenly, replying: “Ar amar shonge ekta aro keu aache!” (And there is someone with me!)

Lando leaned forward. “Wait — was that about me?”

She jumped slightly, clearly having forgotten he was within earshot. “Maa, ami pore call korchi!” (Maa, I will call later!)

He only raised an eyebrow at her squeaky reply while she rushed to cut the call. “Maybe,” she said, cheeks flushed pink. “Don’t tell my mum you heard, or she’ll start planning your wedding.”

He grinned. “That bad, huh?”

She shook her head with a fond little smile, placing the phone face down as she joined him on the couch. “Not bad. Just… Bengali mums don’t mess around.”

Lando’s eyes wandered from her yellow bangles to the small tray she’d brought over with mishti and a diya still flickering gently.

“So,” he began, voice quieter, “what were you saying to her?”

She hesitated. “Just… that I was celebrating Pujo. And that I did it for me, and… a little for you.”

He looked at her, eyes soft. “Why for me?”

She tilted her head. “Because I wanted you to know this side of me. Not just books and music and tech stuff. But this. My Ma, my rituals, my language.”

Lando took her hand. “Then I think you should speak it more around me.”

She blinked. “You wouldn’t understand it.”

“No,” he said, “but I’d learn. Because I’ve never heard you sound like that before — and I’d like to know what makes you glow like that.”

She looked at him for a long moment before saying softly, “Tui amar jone onek special.” (You are very special for me.)

He raised an eyebrow. “That one better have been nice.”

“It was,” she said, smiling. “Promise.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Then happy… what do you call it? Sara-swati Poo-ja?”

She giggled, correcting him: “Soros-shoti Pujo.”

He gave her a mock salute. “Soros-shoti Pujo it is. Now pass me the sweets before I pass out from cultural overload.”

44. Lewis Hamilton

Lewis had always loved her mind.

From the moment they met — her wit, her command over language, her no-nonsense courtroom presence — everything about her had fascinated him. She wasn’t flashy. She was deliberate. Calm. Controlled. The kind of woman who used silence as a weapon and words like velvet-gloved knives.

But that morning, in the quiet of their London apartment, he saw a side of her he’d never witnessed.

She stood by the window, the early sunlight slipping in as she adjusted the pallu of her white and yellow saree — a simple handloom one that looked almost ceremonial. He noticed the gold rim of her glasses, the tiny white flower tucked behind her ear, and the soft hum under her breath. Something lilting. Classical. Unlike her usual playlists.

There were books on the low table. Law journals. A copy of The Constitution of India. Her worn-out copy of Tagore’s Gitanjali. A few were stacked neatly, with a single white rose placed on top. Next to them, a diya flickered faintly.

“Saraswati Pujo,” she said, sensing his gaze. “The goddess of wisdom. We put our books at her feet today. It’s not about praying, really. It’s about remembering where we come from — intellectually. Spiritually.”

Lewis approached, quietly admiring how centered she looked. “And you’re not supposed to read or write today?”

She nodded, smiling. “Technically, no. But cross-examining billionaires doesn’t count.”

He laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

She shrugged, tugging at her bangles. “You knew I was dangerous before you fell.”

Just then, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the caller ID and answered — this time, not in English. “He maa, ami thik acchi. Tumi ekhuno amar chinta korcho? Ami kore niyechi pujo.” (Yes maa, I am fine. You are still worrying about me? I have done the pujo.)

Lewis froze mid-sip of his tea.

The shift in her voice was instant. She spoke Bengali with such confidence, such rhythm — quick, rich, melodic — her tone suddenly full of warmth and teasing. She paced slowly while talking, eyes crinkling, hands gesturing with ease as she rattled off something about the weather, shondesh, and “court e aajke ekta bhaari boka chhilo” (there was a proper idiot in court today).

Lewis had never heard her like this.

So unguarded. So free.

He stood there, holding the mug, watching her laugh into the receiver like she wasn’t the woman who routinely eviscerated opponents in litigation. Like she was just someone’s daughter, celebrating a sacred day a continent away from home.

And speaking a language that held her roots so closely he felt lucky just to witness it.

When she finally hung up, she looked over and blinked, slightly startled. “You okay?”

He nodded, smiling softly. “I just… I’ve never heard you speak like that before.”

“In Bengali?”

“Yeah. It suits you,” he said honestly. “You sound… softer. But also like someone I haven’t met before. Like… the version of you that only exists back home.”

She came closer, fiddling with her bangles again. “I don’t speak it often. It’s too intimate, almost. Makes me feel… fifteen again. Makes me miss my mum’s cooking. Makes me remember who I was before the courtroom made me steel.”

Lewis gently took her hand. “I like hearing her. The fifteen-year-old. The lawyer. All of it.”

She looked at him for a moment, then whispered with a small grin: “tumi amar jeebon er sobse sreshto anso.” (You are the best part of my life.)

Lewis blinked. “What does that mean?”

She brushed her fingers against his jaw. “That I didn’t expect you… but I’m glad you stayed.”

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Then remind me to mess with your expectations a little more often.”

She laughed, the lawyer and the daughter and the girl in yellow all folding into one.

Saraswati would’ve been proud.

01. Max Verstappen

Max woke slowly.

It was one of those rare mornings — no flights, no media, no pressure to be anywhere. Just sunlight slanting through the Monaco windows and the soft rustling of someone moving around in the apartment.

He blinked once. Twice. And then smiled.

She was already up.

He stretched lazily, expecting to hear the clinking of mugs or maybe the quiet hum of music, but what greeted his ears instead was something… completely unfamiliar.

Bengali.

A language he’d never heard her speak before.

She was always introverted, guarded in quiet ways. Max had known her voice in whispers, in laughter tucked into the crook of his neck, in the sleepy murmur of his name against his chest. But this? This was different.

She was speaking quickly — not harsh, not rushed, just… rhythmic. Fluid. Like a stream that had always been flowing, just out of earshot, and now he was finally being allowed to listen.

He padded toward the source, barefoot and curious.

The scene he walked into made his heart catch.

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, right in front of their little makeshift altar — flowers, incense, and a tiny idol of Maa Dugga she’d picked up from London last year. The fragrance of sandalwood and marigold hung in the air. A soft red-and-white cotton saree hugged her figure, traditional but effortless — the drape slightly off her shoulder, the folds pooling around her like a second skin.

In one hand, her phone — pressed to her ear. In the other, a silver bowl of dhuno, the sacred smoke curling upward.

And she was smiling. Wide, bright, home in a way Max had never seen before.

“He, maa, ami aonjuli diye dichi,” (yes, maa, I’ve offered anjali) she said into the phone, laughing lightly.

Pause. A teasing roll of her eyes.

“Na, o toh ekhuno ghumuche—aaj toh orr jonmodin,” (no, he is still asleep—it’s his birthday today)

Max blinked in surprise. He didn’t understand what was said, but he knew that it was about him, and his birthday. He hadn’t even expected her to remember. The last few days had been hectic. And yet, here she was — already awake, already honouring something sacred to her and thinking about him.

She looked up then, finally noticing him, and nearly dropped the phone.

“Max!” she gasped. “I didn’t know you were up—”

He smiled, slow and warm. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

She stood quickly, tucking her phone away and smoothing her saree. “I was just… It’s Ashtumi today. Big day back home.”

He walked toward her, gaze never leaving her face. “That was Bengali, right?”

She nodded, almost shy now — as if she hadn’t just lit up the entire apartment with her presence. “Yeah. I usually talk to my mum in the morning on days like this. And… pray.”

“I’ve never heard you speak it before.”

She looked down, a little awkward. “I guess I just never… thought you’d understand.”

Max reached out, brushing a bit of ash from her wrist.

“I didn’t need to understand the words,” he said softly. “You looked happy. And peaceful. And so damn beautiful I nearly forgot it’s my own birthday.”

Her face turned a shade of pink deeper than her alta.

“Sorry, I didn’t even—”

“You remembered,” he interrupted gently. “I heard you. You were talking about me.”

“Complaining, actually,” she teased, half-grinning. “Said you were still asleep on your birthday like a spoiled prince.”

He laughed, pulling her closer by the waist. “And what does the princess want to do today? Pujo and cake?”

“I already prayed for you,” she whispered, placing her forehead lightly against his. “For peace. And wins. And maybe slightly better strategy calls.”

He chuckled. “I’ll take all of those.”

She tilted her head. “Want to do something Bengali with me today?”

“Like what?”

“Wear a panjabi, come to the pandal, eat luchi and mishti, let my aunties pinch your cheeks…”

Max raised an eyebrow. “That sounds dangerous.”

She smirked. “You race at 300km/h every other weekend.”

“True,” he admitted. “But this? This might actually kill me.”

She swatted his arm, laughing. He caught her wrist and pressed a kiss right where the red alta had dried.

“Teach me how to say something in Bengali?” he murmured against her skin.

“Like what?” “Something sweet.”

She paused. Then: “Ami tomake bhalobashi.” (I love you)

He repeated it slowly, with that low Dutch lilt that made her knees weak. “Ami tom…ake bhalu…bashi?”

She nodded, biting back a laughter at the way he botched the pronunciation. 

“What does it mean?” he asked.

She looked him dead in the eye. “Find out after your birthday lunch.”

Max grinned. “Dangerous girl.”

[syluskiwifeyyy]

Sylus x Desi!Reader Headcanons

So….. I’ve been seeing many “....”!readers and I thought…. Why not make something for the desi LADS players…. So here we are!  Also, this is my first time posting and writing in this fandom and i hope i’m doing it right 🥹🫶

Sylus is the type to learn all about your culture and will celebrate festivals along with you eagerly 

will learn your favorite dishes from back at home to surprise you by cooking them for you

Will try to learn your mother tongue just so you feel right at home 

LOVES CALLING AND BEING CALLED “Jaan”

“What do you think, Jaan?” 

“Are you sure, meri jaan?” (I MELTED)

Sylus definitely loves watching classic Bollywood movies with you. He would 100% drop everything the second you ask him if he wants to join you for a bolly movie night.

But he would call the movies out if they have misogynistic tendencies (I don’t blame him)

You might have to explain to him there’s no need to apply logic in action movies 

His favourite would defo be Amir Khan!!! (pls tell me you see it too) 

Loves and I mean LOVES seeing you in traditional wear (Lehenga, sharara, kurti, saree, etc.) He melts whenever he sees you dressed in your cultural clothes with jhumkas and bangles

WILL BUY YOU AS MANY JHUMKAS AS POSSIBLE 

Will spoil you rotten by buying antique oxidized jewelry for you (cause he loves to see you wear it and be confident in your ethnicity)

The first time you wore a saree for one of the auction events, he was ✨mesmerized✨ and…. You both might have skipped the event… 👀

HE WOULD VIBE WITH THE LOVESICK HINDI SONGS ‼️

If you ask him to recreate cliché scenes from movies, he will indulge you cause he only wants to see you happy and wants to fulfill your childhood bollywood romance delulus 🥰

Will help you drape your saree and help you with the heavy lehengas 

SYLUS IN KURTA SYLUS IN KURTA SYLUS IN KURTA 😩

Always wants to match with your outfit 

Sylus trying to speak in your mother tongue with your parents so he can get their approval for your hand in marriage (he succeeds)

You have both, Western-style and desi-style marriages cause he knows how important it is for you.

would ignore you saying not to spend only his money on the marriage. (you can't stop him even if he wanted to)

Your wedding is grand, following all the rituals of your culture. 

And you lived happily ever after 

And those are all the hcs i can think of. 🤓 If you have more, let me know what hcs do you have for Sylus in a relationship with a desi reader!!

Might also write a fanfic for him seeing you in a saree for the first time.... 🥸

The Divider is by @cafekitsune!!

[swapnagandhacollection]

या राखीपौर्णिमेला बहिणींना ओवाळणी काय देणार?

ऊन सावलीचे खेळ दाखवणारा, रंगांची उधळण करणारा श्रावण येतो, आणि बाजारात सुंदर राख्या दिसायला लागतात. आणि मग यावेळी ओवाळणी म्हणून बहिणींना काय द्यावं यासाठी भाऊरायांची शोधाशोध सुरु होते. आपल्या लाडक्या बहिणीला आवडेल, शोभेल अशी छान भेटवस्तू हवी असेल, तर पुण्यात स्वप्नगंधा कलेक्शन हे खात्रीशीर ठिकाण आहे. इथे अगदी ₹५० पासून पुढे पैठणीच्या सुरेख नक्षीदार वस्तू आणि साड्या मिळतात. या एकाच ठिकाणी राख्यांची आणि ओवाळणीच्या भेटवस्तूंची सगळी खरेदी होऊन जाते. या सगळ्या वस्तूंमध्ये रंग, आकार आणि नक्षीनुसार असंख्य पर्याय उपलब्ध असतात, ज्यामुळे तुमच्या आवडीनुसार भेटवस्तू निवडणं शक्य होतं. 

पैठणी राख्या :

स्वप्नगंधा कलेक्शनमध्ये आकर्षक, विविध रंगातल्या आणि आकाराच्या राख्या उपलब्ध आहेत. सहा किंवा अधिक राख्यांची मागणी असल्यास या राख्या आम्ही कुरिअर सर्व्हिसद्वारे परगावीही पाठवतो. 

पैठणी ज्वेलरी बॉक्स :

तीन वेगवेगळ्या साईझ मध्ये पैठणी ज्वेलरी बॉक्स उपलब्ध आहे. आतल्या बाजूला काच लावलेली आहे, त्यामुळे दागिने तर ठेवता येतीलच. किंवा तुमच्या इच्छेनुसार ड्राय फ्रुट्स,  चॉकलेट्सही या बॉक्सेसमध्ये ठेवता येतात. 

साडी पिन Combo :

सुंदर पैठणी बांगड्या, नक्षीदार साडीपिन, आणि आकर्षक कानातले अशा तीन वस्तूंचा combo  उपलब्ध आहे. यातील बांगड्या सर्व sizes मध्ये मिळतात. साडीपिनवर समोरच्या बाजूला देखणी नथ असते. आणि मागच्या बाजूला मोठ्या आकाराची पिन असते, ज्यामुळे ही पिन घट्ट बसते. शिवाय एक सुरेखसा छल्लाही यासोबत तुम्हाला घेता येतो.

याव्यतिरिक्त आकर्षक, नक्षीदार पैठणी ड्रेसेस, पैठणी पर्सेस, पैठणी डायरीज, साडी कव्हर्स, इ. अनेक पर्याय उपलब्ध आहेत. ही सगळी खरेदी तुम्ही ऑनलाईनसुद्धा करु शकता. त्यासाठी आमची वेबसाईट, आमचं instagram page जरूर पहा, आणि राखी पौर्णिमेची मनासारखी खरेदी करा.

[chetanbangles]

Trendy Salwar Suits Collection | Women's Fashion Wear in India

Welcome to our latest video showcasing the Trendy Salwar Suits Collection! Dive into the vibrant world of Women's Fashion Wear in India as we present a stunning array of salwar suits perfect for every occasion. Whether you're looking for elegant daily wear or glamorous party outfits, our collection has something for everyone.

[kikiwritesfanfiction]

rafayel x desi!reader

Rafayel, who first met you when you secretly snooped into his studio as the only Indian hunter you are. He landed on top of you and swore you were the most beautiful woman to exist.

Rafayel, who later on becomes so interested in you not in the stalkerish way and I mean it that he starts flirting with you. My guy is absolutely smitten, he has a crush on you btw.

Rafayel, who gets to learn more about your Indian roots, not to mention he went to India once for an art exhibition in Jaipur.

"India is a pretty exquisite place. I wanna go there again, but this time with you."

Rafayel, who later confesses and becomes your boyfriend. You say yes because you also have a crush on him.

Rafayel, whose wish is to paint a portrait of you in a lehenga, adorned with jewellery and flowers my guy was inspired by the artworks of Raja Ravi Verma.

Rafayel, who can't stop staring at you, the way your hands were decorated with henna, which he did it btw (very artistic right?) , the way your jhumka and bangles held sweet whispers to his ear, the way your hair was adorned with flowers and hair ornaments. He just can't stop staring at you :'(

Rafayel, who makes you his muse, who imagines that you're the most beautiful goddess carved out straight from an Indian renaissance painting.

Rafayel, who still can't stop staring at you while he paints a portrait of you.

Rafayel, who likes seeing you wearing the saree. He's in awe.

Rafayel, who decorates your lustrous hair with flowers.

Rafayel, who'd love to waltz to a soft Hindi song with you.

Rafayel, whose attempts at learning your native language (Hindi, Tamil, Assamese, etc.) goes way out of the league. At first, he's curious to learn about your language all thanks to you who's talking to a relative, and the second day he learns it so that he understands what you're talking about to your relatives.

Your relatives already know about you and him. Most of them are quite skeptical since they're a part of Asian parents and when you know that Asian parents don't consider art as anything but once they find out more about your boyfriend, like how he's richy-rich, they've been quite less worried about you, especially your parents. They've been pestering you with questions about your marriage, which you told them that there'll be a right time. Also, be careful when you speak with your parents when Rafayel is around as he somehow grasps the translation of your language. Sucks!

Rafayel, who has met you parents through video calls, even at one time when you actually went to India for your vacations with him. Your parents were easily warming up with him and the next day, you were surprised that they were so eager to go to a museum or an art exhibition with him.

Rafayel, who easily warms up with the neighborhood kids, even your cousins, nephews and nieces. He'd make a pretty good dad, just watch out from your cousins who'll annoy the shit out of you by asking you questions like, "when are you guys getting married?" or "when are you guys having babies?" the last question makes you blush more.

Rafayel, who back on Linkon city, holds your hand while waking on the shores of Whitesand Bay. He has a surprise for you.

Rafayel, who gets on one knee and pulls out a red-velvet box. He opens it and reveals a shiny ring, its bands made of polished silver and a turquoise bead as the centerpiece. The ring's delicate features brings a light to the proposal and as Rafayel places the ring on your ring finger, you sob onto his chest. 3 years after dating him.

Rafayel, who announces your parents and his aunt about the proposal first. Your parents were so happy for you now even happier since they're planning for your suhaagraat, good luck.

Rafayel, who is soooo happy to be on your side, forever. His girl, his bride and his wife.

[platimoonie]

rin Itoshi — as the guy who is your arranged husband. (i'm losing my mind over this)

rin itoshi who doesn't know the first thing about marriage and was really against it at first, and argued a lot with his parents. but after seeing you for the first time, shyly carrying a tray of chai and samosas as you entered the living room when his family and him had come to visit, he started having second thoughts.

rin itoshi who stopped resisting his parents request after some time and at the very least didn't mind his marriage to you.

rin itoshi who after 3 months of marriage, was completed enraptured by you. the way your hair framed your face, the way you curled into him in your sleep, the way your eyes brightened when he entered the room. yeah this man was completely head over heels and this was only the beginning.

rin itoshi who is a silent lover. he doesn't say much. but shows his love differently. rin never returns empty handed to home whenever he goes out. he would always buy something or the other– a trinket, a singular rose flower or a gajra. his breath had gotten stuck in his throat when you asked him to help you put on the gajra for the first time.

rin itoshi who couldn't stop staring at the back of your neck and how his fingers would brush against your skin when he tied it around your hair. now everytime he buys it for you, he never let's you put it on. its his job now. shush.

rin itoshi who often goes shopping with you and he will buy you the first thing he sees and thinks you would like. he buys you bangles and earrings. when you try on the jhumkas and ask him if they suit you, he just nods and looks at you silently with such a love struck gaze filled with admiration and tenderness. he's unable to take his eyes off you and that's the only answer you need.

rin itoshi loves the smell of your dupatta. there's no reason behind this, he just loves it– the soft fabric and your scent.

rin itoshi who buys you silver anklets and puts them on you. he can't help but drink in your skin when adorned with such accessories. and when you wear a saree or a lehenga–? he can not, he will not take his eyes off you. you look like an absolute goddess and it makes him weak in the knees.

rin itoshi loves spoiling you. how could he not? how could he not spoil the love of his life, his soul mate, his everthing, his wife.

rin itoshi is so gentle with you. he feels heavily for you, you who taught him how to kiss, how to touch, and how to love. he considers himself to be the luckiest man alive to marry you. and he would marry you again in every lifetime in a heartbeat.

I LOVE RIN SO MUCH IM NOT AT ALL NORMAL ABOUT HIM LAWDD. HES SO POOKIE PLS. also I'm soo sorry I think this is kinda ooc cz he's a complex character and I probably mischaractirized him :"[

also does anyone else think he low-key gives off Fawad Khan vibes?

tags; @tsumu-senpai

tysm for reading ♡