They said our kundlis don’t match. We said let’s find a way.

Our date was almost fixed, venues shortlisted, rings chosen. Then a family priest said our kundlis were a “mismatch.” Overnight, excitement turned into whispers and warnings. My parents grew firm, his parents went quiet, and we started fighting about faith vs. feelings. I felt ashamed—like I’d invited trouble into the house.

A wedding planner’s Instagram highlight mentioned Pt. Dayaram Joshi for “dignity-driven guidance.” I opened his page and read for an hour. Nothing dramatic, just steady. I reached out.

What steadied me first was how Dayaram ji listened. He said, “We will respect tradition and protect love. Both can stand without wounding either.” He began a disciplined 7–11 day process on his side, and gave us a posture to hold on ours: no mocking anyone’s belief, no panic announcements, and no late-night family debates. “Clarity over noise,” he said.

Midway through, he asked if he could speak to our fathers—separately, without pressure. He didn’t argue astrology; he asked about their fears: stability, dignity, community talk. Then he spoke to us as a couple: “Present your plan like adults—home, finances, how you’ll care for both sets of parents, and how you’ll honor important rituals without making them performative.” We prepared exactly that.

Somewhere in those days, the house tone changed. Fewer sharp comments. More real questions. My mother, who had shut down, asked me to show her our budget spreadsheet. His father asked for time with my parents—“no crowd, no drama.” They met. We didn’t defend or attack; we explained. Dayaram ji kept us from flaring up or collapsing.

By the closing day of the process, my father said, “If we do this, we do it with blessings.” The priest who first objected suggested a small remedial puja, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like a war—it felt like respect traveling both ways. Our engagement date went back on the calendar.

People imagine these things are won by shouting or secret tricks. For us, it was steadiness, clean intention, and a guide who protected everyone’s dignity—elders included. Tradition stayed. So did we.