The music dipped, creating a pocket of anticipation. Pranati stepped forward and took the microphone from the stand. Her voice, when it came, was clear and bright, carrying easily over the expectant silence.
"Hello, everyone!" she began, a confident smile playing on her lips. She glanced meaningfully at Swara and Anokhi beside her. "Today is my friend's husband-to-be's bachelor party…" She paused, letting her gaze sweep the crowd before landing back on Shubham, who looked utterly bewildered. "But it's also her bachelorette party! So," she added with a playful shrug, "don't mind if the girls gatecrash a little. What's a celebration without both sides, right?"
A ripple of confused laughter moved through the guests. The script was already being torn up. Pranati's mind flashed to Swara's plea in the corridor: Make it seem like we're all friends. Like this was planned. No one will be suspicious.
"So, to really spice things up," Pranati continued, her tone turning mock-stern, "we're going to have a bang! But—" she raised a finger, "we must keep proper etiquette in mind. This is a pre-wedding celebration, not a free-for-all."
Her eyes swept over the group of performers in bikinis who stood awkwardly at the edge of the stage. With a graceful gesture, she beckoned them. "Ladies, a little decorum, please? Scarves!"
On cue, Swara and Anokhi produced a stack of elegant, silky scarves from a basket Pranati had arranged earlier. They moved through the bikini-clad dancers, helping them tie the scarves around their waists like stylish, flowing skirts. The transformation was instant—the provocative was softened into something playful and chic.
From his place in the shadows, Arnav felt the tension in his shoulders ease. A slow, genuine smile touched his lips as he watched Pranati command the room with effortless authority. She wasn't just surviving the situation; she was rewriting it.
"D.J.," Pranati called out, her eyes sparkling. "Let's turn up the beat!"
The opening notes of Khasma Nu Khaane thrummed through the yacht, infectious and energetic.
"Mmmm…" Pranati hummed into the mic, setting the tone.
What followed was not a seductive display, but a joyous, communal celebration. Pranati, Swara, and Anokhi led the dance, their movements synchronized, full of life and laughter, not allure. The other girls, now adorned with scarves, joined in, their previous unease melting into genuine fun.
Then, in a masterstroke, Pranati danced her way through the crowd toward Shubham. She grabbed his hand, pulling him gently but firmly toward the center. With a flourish, she placed his hand in Swara's.
"Munda thoda.. offbeat hai
Par kudiya de naal..bohat sweet hai
Munda thoda..offbeat hai
Par kudiya de naal..bohat sweet hai," she sang along with the track, pointing at Shubham teasingly, then at Swara.
The crowd erupted in cheers. This was what they understood—celebration, camaraderie, the bride and groom dancing together before their wedding. The genre had shifted entirely from something sensual to a pure, celebratory party.
Shubham, initially stiff with shock, looked into Swara's relieved and loving eyes. A slow smile broke across his face, and they began to dance, their movements awkward at first, then flowing with shared joy and private understanding.
The lyrics fueled the atmosphere as Pranati and the girls danced around the couple:
"Dhongi sa ye bada dheeth hai
Viral hogya ye Tweet
Par phool wool karne mein cool
Tu badi tezz katari hai
Shagan teri ki,lagan teri ki
Humne kardi taiyari hai
Nachde ne saare ral-mil ke
Aaj hil-dul ke
Le saare ke saare nazare
Nachde ne saare ral-mil ke
Aaj hil-dul ke
Le saare ke saare nazare
Khasma nu khaane!
Hadipa…Hadipa…
Hallu bade karaar
Karam na laalu bade karaar(aa ha!)
Chadh chadh ke chaubaar
Karam naal sweetu aaja maar(aa ha!)
Chak De!
Munde plenty mere layi hogaye senti
O tere layi hogaye senti
Tere layi hogaye senti
Tere liye main set hoon
Iss baat ki guarantee"
Pranati moved through the guests, encouraging everyone to join. She caught Arnav's eye briefly as she passed, and for a heartbeat, the chaos around them faded. He wasn't smiling widely, but the approval and something deeper—a flicker of awe—was clear in his gaze. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod before diving back into the heart of the performance, her voice rising with the next verse:
"Par phool wool karne mein cool
Tu badi tezz katari hai
Shagan teri ki,lagan teri ki
Humne kardi tayaari hai
Sehra baandh, tujhe kood-faand
Tujhe le jaana iss baari hai
Nachde ne saare ral-mil ke
Aaj hil-dul ke
Le saare ke saare nazaare
Nachde ne saare ral-mil ke
Aaj hil-dul ke
Le saare ke saare nazaare
Zor-zor se shor-wor kar
DJ gaan bajaane aa
Ruthde ruthde jija fuffad
Humne saare manane haan
Zor-zor se shor-wor kar
DJ gaan bajaane aa
Ruthde ruthde jija fuffad
Humne saare manane haan"
The yacht deck transformed into a vibrant dance floor. The brothers, Arav and Ranav, were soon pulled into the frenzy, laughing and moving to the beat. Pranati's energy was the engine of the room, her every move converting tension into triumph.
"Par phool wool karne mein cool
Tu badi tezz katari hai
Shagan teri ki
Lagan teri ki
Humne kardi taiyari hai
Nachde ne saare..
Nachde ne saare..
Nachde ne saare ral-mil ke
Aaj hil-dul ke
Le saare ke saare nazare
Nachde ne saare ral-mil ke
Aaj hil-dul ke
Le saare ke saare nazare
Nachde ne saare..
Nachde ne saare..
Khasma nu khaane!"
As the final, emphatic chant echoed out and the music pulsed on, the celebration was now a living, breathing entity of its own. Pranati, surrounded by Swara, Anokhi, and the now-joyful performers, knew the real victory wasn't just in the dance.
It was in the confused, furious glare of Neil Motwani from across the deck, rendered powerless by a wave of sheer, collective happiness he could not control.
The game had not just changed. She had won it.