Amit’s karwachauth

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.