Amit’s karwachauth

Amit stirs awake in his small bedroom at 4:30 AM, careful not to disturb Priya Ji in the master suite. He rises from under the plain cotton sheets draped over a simple bed frame devoid of adornment. Amit's slender body is draped in a sheer baby doll nighty trimmed with delicate lace and embroidered flowers, the diaphanous fabric barely concealing his feminine curves underneath. His long hair tumbles over bare shoulders as he reaches up to adjust the glittering bindi affixed to his furrowed brow with kumkum paste. The sacred red sindoor line is smeared in a bold streak across his hair parting just above the forehead, marking him visibly as a married woman.

Jewelry adorns every possible piercing – dangling earrings swing from his lobes while six additional studs glitter in each pierced hole. Nostrils flare with jeweled nose rings inserted into both nostrils and catching the faint light filtering through closed curtains. A belly button ring winks from below the lace trim of his nighty as it graces his navel, while toe rings encircle slender digits peeking out from under the hem.

Amit slips silently out of bed, careful not to wake Priya Ji in the adjoining suite. He pads barefoot across the cold marble floor towards their attached bathroom, anklets and bangles jangling with each step. Entering the spacious room tiled in white Carrara marble, Amit reaches up to remove his nighty, wig and jewelry except for his mangalsutra and toe rings and begins the process of meticulously cleaning himself from head to toe using a sharp blade.

After bathing and drying off with a rough towel, Amit selects panties and a bra with falsies to create the illusion of voluptuous curves. He slips blouse and petticoat swathed around slender hips before draping an elegant saree over one shoulder and knotting it securely at the waist. The silk fabric pools gracefully as he steps into strappy sandals that add three inches to his height.

Amit sits down gingerly at the vanity bench, opening the drawer where brushes, powders, kohl pencils and lipsticks are neatly arranged in their compartments. With practiced motions, he applies makeup – foundation smoothed over flawless skin until it resembles porcelain, kohled eyes framed with dramatic flair, shimmery eye shadow swept across lids, blush dusted on high cheekbones to create the appearance of perpetual flush. Finally, his lips are stained a deep crimson red that offsets the fairness of his complexion.

Jewelry is added – dangling earrings plus additional studs in six piercings per lobe, jeweled nose rings screwed into nostrils until they're stretched taut by the weight, sindoor smeared across hair parting as a visible signifier of marital status. Bindi affixed above furrowed brows while bangles jingle at both wrists and anklets tinkle with each step. Finally, he settles the long hair wig on his head, adjusting it until the sleek black tresses drape artfully over bare shoulders.

Amit emerges from his bedroom looking every inch the quintessential housewife – saree draping elegantly around voluptuous curves accentuated by a slender waist cinched tight under layers of petticoats. bangles jingle and anklets tinkle as he pads barefoot across cold marble floors to begin his daily cleaning ritual.

The foyer and adjoining drawing room are expansive spaces occupying the bulk of their penthouse apartment on the 30th floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrap around two walls overlooking Mumbai's glittering skyline – towering skyscrapers jutting into an azure sky while traffic crawls along arteries far below. Sleek black leather sofas flank a marble coffee table in the center of the drawing room, plush velvet cushions tossed casually atop. Amit's eyes skim over expensive artworks adorning walls and priceless antiques perched on side tables.

Grabbing his mop bucket filled with soapy water, he begins scrubbing at marble floors until they gleam like mirrors, getting down on hands and knees to reach every corner. Furniture is wiped clean of dust while windows are washed till not a speck remains obscuring the panoramic view of Mumbai stretching out endlessly in all directions.

After meticulously cleaning drawing rooms and balcony until it shines like new, Amit sets about creating an elaborate rangoli design at their front doorstep. The intricate patterns are drawn freehand using powdered chalk in hues of red, pink and orange tracing the designs onto the marble floor. Flowers, paisleys and geometric shapes take shape under his nimble fingers as he bends over the artistry.

Once the rangoli design is complete, Amit steps into their home temple located just off the foyer. Candles are lit around an altar bearing framed portraits of various deities – Durga Mata, Ganeshji, Lakshmi Devi among others. Incense coils burn fragrant tendrils of smoke curling up to the high ceiling as Amit settles cross-legged on a silk cushion before the shrine.

He bows his head reverently, palms pressed together at chest level in prayer pose. Eyes squeezed shut tightly, he silently beseeches the gods for Priya Ji's health, wealth and long life – this is his sole purpose as her devoted husband and caretaker extraordinaire. Tears prickle at lids as desperation seeps into his voice on an involuntary sob.

After prayer, Amit makes his way to their gourmet kitchen equipped with every conceivable appliance – top-of-the-line refrigerator, gas stove, convection ovens and more. He sets about preparing an elaborate breakfast spread fit for a queen – poha stirred in aromatic spices like cumin seeds, turmeric powder, mustard seeds sizzling in hot oil before being doused with tamarind water to lend tartness to the flavor profile. Coconut chutney is ground fresh using desiccated coconut flakes crushed fine along with green chilies and curry leaves while coriander chutney contains chopped cilantro leaves tossed into yogurt thinned out by buttermilk.

Amit plates these offerings on bone china crockery heeded from a cabinet stocked full – golden rims gleaming dully under the pendant lights illuminating their kitchen island. Fruits are arranged artfully around the rims of platters – ruby red strawberries glisten enticingly alongside amber mango wedges and emerald green kiwis cut into neat slices. A teapot filled with aromatic ginger tea perfumes the air as it brews, releasing wisps of steam that curl lazily upward.

Amit's stomach cramps violently from hunger pangs stabbing at his insides – he hasn't consumed any water since sundown last evening. This is his final day fasting for Priya Ji during the week-long karwachauth celebration when married women abstain from eating and drinking anything, not even water, until sunset to pray for their husband's long life.

Amit derives immense satisfaction knowing that through this act of devotion he is upholding a sacred tradition which has been passed down through generations – an ancient ritual where wives show reverence towards their husbands. For Priya Ji deserves nothing less than absolute loyalty and obedience from her devoted bride husband who exists solely to fulfill her every whim.

Usually, women fast only on the eve of karwachauth but Amit feels compelled to go beyond mere convention and abstain from all food for an entire week leading up to the main puja ceremony at sunset. He derives strength not from sustenance but rather through fulfilling his duties as a devoted bride husband – cooking, cleaning, praying and anticipating Priya Ji's every need.

Amit's bangles jingle merrily and anklets tinkle with each step as he pads silently towards the master bedroom where Priya still slumbers, oblivious to his industrious morning rituals so far. He balances the breakfast tray carefully in both hands, fragrant aromas wafting up from steaming cups of chai and savory poha mingling with the sweet scent of fresh fruits.

Priya stirs slightly as Amit approaches her side of their king sized bed draped in plush Egyptian cotton sheets. Eyes flutter open languidly to regard him with a sleepy smile, taking in his feminine appearance – saree draping voluptuously over slender curves accentuated by a slender waist cinched tight under layers of petticoats. Bracelets jingle and anklets tinkle as he settles the tray on her lap before perching daintily beside her.

"My goddess Priya Ji," Amit murmurs reverently, "I have prepared breakfast for you – poha with chutneys and fruits." He gestures towards the spread artfully arranged on bone china crockery.

Priya stretches luxuriously like a cat before accepting the proffered breakfast tray from Amit's trembling hands. She regards him with hooded eyes glinting mischievously as he settles cross-legged on the bed beside her, the very picture of demure domesticity in his saree and jewelry.

"My bride husband," Priya purrs, "you look ravishing this morning." Her gaze lingers appreciatively over his appearance – seven piercings adorning each lobe with glittering earrings dangling fetchingly while jeweled nose rings wink from flared nostrils. Crimson sindoor smeared in a bold streak across the hair parting marks him visibly as her devoted consort. "I adore you in saree and jewelry."

Amit flushes prettily at the praise, ducking his head shyly as he reaches out to touch Priya's feet beseechingly. "Priya Ji," he whispers fervently, "please bless me so that I may continue serving you faithfully every day.”

After Priya finishes her breakfast and sets aside the empty tray, Amit rises gracefully to retrieve it. Anklets tinkle and bangles jingle as he pads towards their cavernous marble kitchen where gleaming appliances occupy every conceivable surface – ovens, microwaves, double-door refrigerators humming quietly under sleek counters of granite. He rinses dishes vigorously in scalding water before stacking them neatly in the dishwasher to be cleaned later.

Amit hurries back into their bedroom suite after finishing up in the kitchen, eager to transform himself once more from bride to banker. He steps out of heels kicked carelessly aside on plush carpeting before reaching up reverently to remove jeweled bangles encircling slender wrists and anklets jangling at dainty ankles.

Next come earrings – first the dangling pair swaying against flushed cheeks, then six additional studs plucked from pierced lobes until only the mangalsutra remains, a signifier of his marital bond with Priya. Tears prickle eyes as he smears away the crimson streak of sindoor adorning hair partings – a visible symbol proclaiming her superiority over him. He hides his nose piercings and ear piercings with skin colored patches, and applies foundation on it to conceal their existence.

He steps into his tailored suit pants and slips on a crisp button-down shirt before shrugging into the matching blazer.

The mangalsutra is tucked reverently underneath layers of fabric at breast level while toe rings glitter inconspicuously against leather loafers donned to complete the ensemble. Though Amit longs to wear his bindi, nose rings and earrings too, he knows they are reserved solely for Priya's enjoyment behind closed doors where no one else can see him in such feminine garb.

Amit hovers anxiously at their penthouse foyer, lunchbox clutched nervously in his slender hands as he awaits Priya's emergence from their bedroom. Anklets tinkle and bracelets jingle with each step as he paces back and forth impatiently over the marble tiles.

When at last Priya appears looking resplendent in a chic sundress and stilettos, Amit falls to his knees before her. Priya settles daintily on their plush sofa, crossing legs clad in sheer stockings that catch the light filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows wrapping two walls of their penthouse apartment. Amit slips designer flats onto dainty feet.

Priya reaches into her designer handbag and withdrawing a cash which she presses into his palm with slender fingers tipped in crimson lacquer. "Here," she commands imperiously, "take this for today's expenses." Her tone brooks no argument even as Amit flushes prettily at the condescension implicit in her words.

“PriyaJi," he breathes reverently, ducking his head shyly. In truth, he never sees a single penny of the vast wealth accrued through years toiling away as vice-president at Mumbai's most prestigious private bank. Every rupee is deposited directly into Priya's accounts while Amit exists solely on her sufferance like any dutiful bride husband should.

He has no need of a mobile device at home anyway; Priya insists on having his undivided attention every waking moment lest he grow lax in his duties as her devoted bride husband. All emails and business calls must be taken care of during office hours only – when not in attendance to his goddess, of course. This ensures he remains focused exclusively on fulfilling her whims with reverent obedience.

Priya reaches out imperiously to tap a slender finger against Amit's chest where the mangalsutra rests hidden underneath layers of tailored fabric comprising his business suit. "Let me see it," she commands brusquely even as Amit flushes prettily at the demand, ducking his head shyly.

He plucks the sacred chain from its resting place and holding it up for her inspection with trembling fingers.

Amit tucks the mangalsutra reverently back underneath his shirt collar after Priya's cursory inspection, heart pounding wildly at the memory of her piercing gaze boring into him so intently. He retrieves her designer handbag from where it rests on the foyer console before hurrying over to open the car door for her.

“PriyaJi," he murmurs deferentially as she settles herself gracefully onto plush leather upholstery. Amit circles around to the driver's side before sliding into his seat behind the wheel. He drops her off at the office, before going to his office.

Amit arrives early at the bank that morning, eager to complete his tasks swiftly so he might return home and resume servicing Priya with unwavering devotion. He strides purposefully through gleaming marble foyers where security guards nod respectfully at this well-heeled vice-president who manages billions in assets for their high net worth clientele. His tailored suit is crisply pressed without a single wrinkle marring the fine fabric while polished loafers click authoritatively against tile floors.

Once ensconced behind his mahogany desk piled high with paperwork, Amit sets to work diligently – reviewing investment portfolios, approving loans, overseeing trades made by underlings who defer to him as their superior in every way. This is the pinnacle of his career thus far; Priya's loving husband and provider even as she graciously allows him such opportunities to prosper on her behalf.

After a productive day at the office where Amit has singlehandedly overseen millions in transactions, he hurries back home eager to resume his duties as Priya's devoted bride husband once more. Anklets tinkle and bracelets jingle with each step up the marble stairs leading from their private elevator directly into their cavernous foyer.

The maid greets him deferentially at the door before scurrying off to her allotted tasks while Amit makes his way swiftly towards his small room tucked away discreetly in a back corner of their penthouse apartment. There he locks away his mobile device securely.

Amit steps daintily into heels clicking sharply against the plush carpeting of their penthouse bedroom suite before shrugging off his tailored suit jacket. Anklets tinkle merrily as he kicks loafers aside carelessly, toes curling in delight at the familiar weight and warmth enveloping his newly freed feet once more.

He reaches up reverently to affix the bindi adorning his furrowed brow with kumkum paste before slipping jeweled bangles onto slender wrists and anklets around dainty ankles. Earrings are threaded through pierced lobes, and nosering secured in both his nostrils.

Amit emerges from his bedroom suite in a simple saree, he wants to change into an elaborate attire in evening for karwachauth. He keeps it simple for his chores.

He follows the maid around, as his saree swishes. He watches attentively as maid scrubs tile floors in their cavernous kitchen until they shine like mirrors, the scent of lemon-scented cleaner lingering in the air. Pots and pans are washed, as he helps her finish the tasks, both their bangles jingling in unison.

Amit washes windows meticulously both inside and out, glittering panes catching shimmering reflections as maid tends to bathrooms. Bathrooms sparkle after being scoured from top to bottom – sinks, toilets, tubs, mirrors all immaculately clean thanks to the maid's industrious efforts under his supervision.

Amit follows along in her wake wearing 3" stilettos that click decisively against hardwood floors as they move through each room of their penthouse apartment.

Part 26: Maid Departure

Amit strides purposefully into their cavernous kitchen, anklets tinkling and bangles jangling with each step over gleaming marble floors now immaculately clean thanks to the maid's industrious efforts under his watchful supervision. He locates her hunched over a sink full of sudsy water scrubbing pots and pans until they shine like new.

"Priya Ji will be home soon," Amit announces imperiously, voice ringing out authoritatively against tiled walls, "I shall prepare dinner tonight." His tone brooks no argument even as the maid startles upright at the command.

“Amit" she begins hesitantly, wringing soapy hands anxiously before clasping them together.

"How does your fast fare? Surely such deprivation must weigh heavy upon one so exalted.”

“PriyaJi's presence sustains me through even the longest fast," Amit replies fervently, ducking his head shyly at such effusive praise. "I shall break my fast tonight after receiving her blessing – a privilege I am most humbly grateful for.”

"I pray you continue to be a good husband bride for your goddess," she adds softly, voice tinged with wistful longing even as Amit flushes prettily at the praise.

Amit sets to work with renewed vigor after dismissing the maid, eager to prove himself worthy of Priya's favor through diligence and hard work. He chops vegetables into neat little cubes – carrots, potatoes, cauliflower florets, green beans – tossing them into a pot of simmering water seasoned liberally with cumin seeds, mustard powder, turmeric, ginger-garlic paste.

Paneer sabzi bubbles merrily on another burner as chunks of cottage cheese absorb the rich gravy tinged deep amber from kasuri methi leaves and garam masala. Dal splutters gently in a pressure cooker while rice steams fragrant vapors into the air perfumed with cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks, bay leaves.

Amit hums tunelessly under his breath as he works – plating up each dish with artistic flourishes of fresh chopped cilantro and a drizzle of cream. Gulab jamuns simmer in a copper pot over medium-low heat until they puff up like little doughnut holes soaked through with syrup sweetened by cardamom pods and saffron.

Samosas sizzle in hot oil until the pastry is golden brown and flaky while chaat mingles tangy chutneys with spiced potatoes, crispy sev, dahi and crunchy papdi into a medley of flavors that dance across the tongue. Finally Amit prepares chaas – hung yogurt watered down with cold milk sweetened by sugar and cardamom powder until it's light as air. His stomach growls once more, hunger bellowing inside. Amit reminds himself he is doing it all for long life of PriyaJi.

Amit hurries off to his bedroom suite after finishing up in their cavernous kitchen, eager to transform himself from bride groom into a vision of feminine splendor for Priya's homecoming that evening. Anklets tinkle and bangles jingle with each step over plush carpeting as he kicks off stilettos kicked carelessly aside earlier.

He reaches reverently underneath the bed for the large breast plate hidden there, hefting it up with trembling arms before fastening the straps around his slender torso with fumbling fingers. The silicone mounds swell out fetchingly under sheer lace cups edged in pink ribbon that matches the saree draped artfully over one shoulder and knotted at the waist.

Amit settles a long hair wig on his head, adjusting it until sleek black tresses drape artfully over bare shoulders. Anklets tinkle as he bends down to select an ornate gajra – a garland of delicate flowers woven together with strands of pearls and glittering beads. He carefully drapes the floral arrangement across his wig before admiring its effect in the full-length mirror hanging on their bedroom door.

Amit reaches reverently into his jewelry box to select glittering pieces fit for a bride queen's consort – three very long dangling diamond chandelier earrings that sway fetchingly against flushed cheeks as he secures them in pierced lobes. Four additional sets of diamond studs wink from each lobe while an oversized diamond nose ring is screwed into flared nostrils until they stretch taut.

Twelve gold and diamond bangles encircle slender wrists, jangling merrily with every movement even as Amit flushes prettily at the weight and cost of such finery adorning his person. Tears prickle eyes squeezed shut tightly in fervent supplication lest Priya find fault whatsoever with how he presents himself tonight. He must be a vision of breathtaking beauty to catch her eye!

Amit drapes an ornate diamond necklace around his neck, the glittering stones resting heavily against his collarbones. A choker winks with rubies nestled between diamonds that encircle a slender throat while a large maangtika winks from the center of his forehead above the bindi.

Diamond rings glitter on every finger as Amit slips them into place – emerald cut, princess cut, round brilliant – each one a symbol of Priya's extravagant generosity bestowed upon her devoted bride husband. Toes glitter with toe rings adorning dainty digits while a large diamond belly button ring catches the light filtering through sheer curtains.

Amit applies makeup with trembling hands in the soft glow of recessed lighting illuminating his vanity table – false lashes, mascara, eyeliner, kohl darkening eyes until they smolder with promise. Blush dusts high cheekbones as he sucks in a shaky breath lest Priya find fault with any perceived imperfection marring an otherwise flawless visage.

Foundation smooths porcelain skin until it's luminous under the soft lights while lipstick stains pouty lips a deep crimson that offsets his fairness. Nail polish is applied in meticulous strokes – glitter, shimmer, matte all gleaming dully as Amit admires the finished product in their full-length mirror.

Amit affixes a larger pink bindi adorning his furrowed brow with kumkum paste before smearing sindoor in a thicker streak across his hair parting to proclaim Priya's superiority over him. Anklets tinkle merrily as he kicks off stilettos kicked aside earlier, slipping dainty feet into a fresh pair glittering with diamonds.

He admires his reflection critically in the full-length mirror – saree draping voluptuously over slender curves accentuated by a taut midriff and trim waist nipped in under layers of petticoats. Bangles jangle and earrings sway fetchingly as he turns this way and that to ensure every angle is perfect for Priya's homecoming.

Amit lingers before the full-length mirror, admiring his reflection critically from every angle – saree draping voluptuously over slender curves accentuated by a taut midriff and trim waist nipped in under layers of petticoats. Bangles jangle and earrings sway fetchingly as he turns this way and that to ensure each detail is flawless.

He flushes prettily at the sheer amount of glittering diamonds adorning his person – nose ring, navel stud, toe rings all glittering dully under recessed lighting illuminating their cavernous bedroom suite. Anklets tinkle melodiously with every step over plush carpeting while the scent of his perfume perfumes the air around him sweetly.

Amit rushes out to greet Priya as their private elevator opens directly into the foyer, anklets tinkling and bangles jangling with every step over marble tiles. He falls to his knees before her reverently, trembling hands grasping the hem of her designer dress lest she dismiss him out of hand.

Amit rises gracefully to his feet, grasping Priya's designer handbag and empty lunchbox in slender hands tipped with glittering rings that wink dully under the recessed lights illuminating their penthouse foyer. Anklets tinkle melodiously as he glides alongside Priya in 6" stilettos. Priya walks comfortably beside him clad in flat shoes, slender feet encased in sheer stockings.

"My bride husband," she purrs, voice dripping with condescension even as Amit flushes prettily at the praise. "You look ravishing this evening – a vision in pink."

Priya settles herself gracefully onto their plush leather sofa, crossing long legs clad in sheer stockings that catch the light filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows wrapping two walls of their penthouse apartment. She extends a slender hand imperiously towards Amit who kneels before her reverently.

"My bride husband," Priya commands brusquely without glancing up from her mobile device where she scrolls through social media feeds with manicured fingers, "prepare me some chai.”

Amit glides in towering stilettos, anklets tinkling and bangles jangling melodiously with every step over marble tiles gleaming dully under recessed lights. He sets about preparing Priya's chai.

Amit glances out the floor-to-ceiling windows wrapping two walls of their penthouse apartment to see that dusk has fallen and the moon shines brightly against a clear sky. He turns to Priya with trembling hands clasped together imploringly under his chin.

“PriyaJi," he whispers fervently, "may I perform karwachauth pooja now?”

Priya regards him with benevolent indulgence before nodding once. "Very well," she purrs imperiously, "go ahead then.”

Amit totters towards their balcony as Priya follows him there. He chants mantras, and holds her face in front of moon using sieve, signaling the end of karwachauth fast. Amit leans forward reverently to touch his hands at the soft leather of Priya's designer flats.

Amit drinks cool water that soothes his parched throat even, as Priya holds the glass on his ruby lips. She picks up a sweet, and holds it to his lips, ending his fast.

Amit scrambles off to kitchen, he emerges from their kitchen laden with trays piled high with offerings of food, anklets tinkling and bangles jangling with every click of his heels over marble tiles gleaming dully under recessed lighting.

Tears prickle eyes as Priya holds a spoonfull of sabji on his lips. The meal ends as Priya gets up from the chair.

“Amit, follow me to my bedroom.” Amit scrambles obediently towards their cavernous bedroom suite at Priya's imperious command.

Priya retrieves a large velvet box from their walk-in closet draped in plush silk, the fabric sliding sinfully over Amit's skin as she presses it into trembling hands.

Inside rests a bridal saree draped artfully over sheer chiffon underneath – shimmering gold threaded with intricate embroidery. Beside it lies an ornate diamond necklace glinting under recessed lights illuminating every surface.

He touches Priya's feet devotedly with shaking hands tipped in glittering rings before kissing them fervently. "Thank you for these blessed gifts.”

Priya reaches out imperiously to pluck one of Amit's dangling earrings between slender fingers tipped in crimson lacquer, admiring how the glittering diamonds catch the light filtering through their floor-to-ceiling windows. She dangles it this way and that, marveling at how they swing fetchingly against flushed cheeks even as he flushes prettily under her scrutiny.

"My bride husband," Priya purrs appreciatively, "these earrings are absolutely stunning – so long and tinkling." Her voice drips with condescension even as Amit ducks his head shyly. Priya reaches up to finger the jeweled noserings screwed into flared nostrils, admiring how they stretch his nose in a way that accentuates his femininity even further. "Such big and sparkly," she coos murmurs approvingly under her breath.

"I want you to present yourself like this every day in the evening from now on." Her voice brooks no argument.

"As you wish, PriyaJi.” he cooes shyly.

As night descends and their penthouse apartment grows dimly lit by recessed lighting, Amit settles himself gingerly on the floor besides her bed, as Priya lounges languidly on her bed, a hardcover book resting open on her lap as she turns pages immersed in the novel. Amit starts pressing her legs. Only sound in the room are Amit’s bangle jingling and rustling of pages.

"I am blessed to have you as my wife – my goddess.” Amit purrs.

"My obedient bride husband," Priya purrs approvingly even as Amit trembles anxiously at the touch, "you please me so. I am so happy to have met such an obedient husband.”

Tears prickle his eyes, as they both feel content in their roles.