Some venues ask you to build a wedding around them. Amitarasa holds one instead. Silk cushions in teal, blush and lilac line the stone amphitheatre, brass lamps stand among flowers that look gathered rather than arranged, and a mandap draped in greens, amaranthus and orange berries waits over lotus-strewn water, with the hills quiet in the haze behind.
Khyati spent her last quiet minutes in ivory silk and a veil of sequined net, hands at her ears, finishing her jewellery. Then she walked down the steps between brass lamps, looking down, almost smiling at something only she knew. The ceremony itself was pure fun: garlands exchanged like a game of who could be shyer and more delighted at once, a kiss on the cheek, and rice raining down beneath a canopy of flowers and tiny glass birds while both of them laughed through it. Our favourite frame is the smallest one, her mehendi-darkened fingers held in his.
Later, in coral and gold and a pale chevron jacket, they walked a paved path with the hills behind them, hand in hand, and Aditya stopped watching where he was going to watch her laugh. The wind caught his hair at exactly the right moment. Amitarasa gave this wedding its scale, but Aditya and Khyati gave it warmth.

Venue : Amitarasa, Bangalore
Photography & film by Keys and Blacks.