A year and a half into their marriage, Priya's online business exploded. She secured a large contract supplying bulk handmade jewelry to a boutique chain in Mumbai. Her monthly income now significantly surpassed Rahul's engineering salary.
She controlled the finances completely. Rahul's salary went into a joint savings account that Priya managed. The traditions they had once followed mechanically were now repurposed into acts of love and submission.
Every morning, before making her tea, Rahul was required to enter the bedroom, kneel beside the bed, and touch Priya's feet.
"Good morning, Priya," he would say.
She would stroke his hair gently. "Good morning. Go make the tea, my good girl."
The Karwa Chauth festival approached in October. Two days before, Rahul approached Priya in the living room.
"Priya," he began hesitantly. "I want to observe the fast. I want to fast as your devoted wife, for your long life and the continued success of your business."
Priya looked at him, deeply touched by the gesture. She closed her laptop.
"Rahul, if you are going to keep the fast for me as a traditional wife would," Priya said warmly, "then I will keep the fast as well, to support you. I will not let you do it alone. We will fast together in solidarity."
On the day of Karwa Chauth, neither of them ate or drank from sunrise. In the late afternoon, Priya told him to shut his laptop. "Go to the bathroom and shave your face and body perfectly. Then come to the bedroom."
Priya spent two hours dressing him. She applied heavy, elaborate bridal makeup. She draped a bright red bridal saree on him perfectly. When the moon finally rose, they went out to the small balcony. Rahul held the traditional sieve. He looked through it at the moon, then lowered it to look at Priya's face. He lit the small diya on the thali and performed her aarti.
He then knelt on the balcony floor and touched her feet.
Priya broke his fast by offering him a sip of water from a small brass lota and placing a piece of barfi in his mouth. Then, Rahul did the same for her, breaking her fast.
"Stand up," Priya said.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, velvet jewelry box. Inside lay a long, thick, 22-karat gold mangalsutra.
"You fasted for me. You serve me every day out of love," she said, her voice firm but loving. "This is your reward. And your mark."
Rahul’s eyes filled with tears. Priya stepped behind him and tied the heavy gold chain around his neck.
"You will never take this off," she ordered.
"Never," he whispered, kissing her hand.
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