"Is the lady fine?" The New York cabbie was a little anxious, a drunk fare could be a spot of bother, but this woman was accompanied by her partner and both the driver and the passengers were of obvious South Asian origin. "My wife had more wine than she can handle, she will be fine and I am right here with her. Don't worry, she has not drunk enough to bring out her dinner and mess up the cab." Randhir told the cabbie. "Boro boro delam toro toro nemikhaad, dige dige nemikham bebinamet, burey burey hum hum hum shaitaan, zara zara bachna re humsey!" Sanyukta was unable to think clearly as her mind was fuzzy, instead she sang the words of the first song that she could recall even as she leaned heavily into Randhir while strapped into position in her seat.

"How dare she make a move on you, you belong to me, no woman can lay a lusty finger on you! Shekhawat, I'll kill you if you even look at another girl!" She slurred, much to the amusement of the two men in the cab. "Sure Jaan, ami tomar, theek aachey?" Randhir assured her that since they were married she could claim exclusive right on him. "Aapni Bengali? " The cabbie asked Randhir if he was Bengali after he overheard him. "My grandmother hailed from Bangladesh, and my grandfather still lives in Kolkata." Randhir replied. Unlike typical New Yorkers who hardly conversed with immigrant cabbies, preferring to talk on their phones instead, Randhir was completely at ease in this situation.

"I belong to Jessore." The cabbie continued the conversation as he negotiated the streets of New York. "My grandmother would talk about the patali gur or date palm jaggery from Jessore and Faridpur. Actually my wife speaks more Bangla than I do." Randhir smiled as Sanyukta snored softly with her head on his shoulder. "Women don't have to be drunk to become possessive. I have two wives and neither one drinks. The senior wife is upset because she has to remain in Jessore and look after our two children and my old parents. The new wife with whom I live in New York wants me to divorce the old one and stop sending money back home. Neither can stand the other, and I cannot leave either. The first is my khaala's daughter. After our arranged marriage she stood by me through my worst times and cared for my children and my amma abba, the new one I married because I fell in love with her. Both have given me kids, two sons and a daughter." The cabbie shared his predicament. 

Only a South Asian can spill his domestic issues to strangers, Randhir thought. "You are a brave man to take a second wife, for me it is not even legal to." He said, and the cabbie laughed. "Allah will manage everything, I am a man of faith. My first wife makes do with whatever I can spare, plus my father loans out his date palms in the jaggery season. They grow all the rice for our table. And my second wife likes her independence which she earns by working at a supermarket." The cabbie added. "You are an honest God-fearing man, all will be well in the end. I remember reading about you returning a bag full of money and valuables to the woman who left it behind." Randhir remarked. "You know about that! You do read! Well, just doing what Allah expects me to. We have reached your apartment building." The cabbie said, happy to make Randhir's acquaintance. They exchanged numbers and Randhir gave him a generous tip besides the fare.

The man drove off after Randhir led a drowsy Sanyukta into the apartment building. As he unlatched the door to the apartment she figured that they were back home, she dropped her clutch, kicked off her shoes and pulled off her dress over her shoulders. "I need to pee, Randhir. Quick, bathroom!" She said urgently and he led her there as fast as he could. As soon as she perched herself on the toilet seat she asked him to leave. He left to pick up her things she had shed and got out of his own clothes before returning to the bathroom where he found her brushing her teeth with his toothbrush. "Hey, that's my toothbrush!" No sooner had he said those words she rinsed off and squinted at the brush. "Sorry, let me get you a fresh one!" She said unsteadily.

"I am kidding silly, I don't mind, anyway our mouths have been making out for over two years. And you never use my brush while sober." He grinned as he brushed his own teeth after her. "Need to shower!" She muttered. "Ok, together then!" He said. He soaped her before himself as she stood still, her palms planted on the bathroom wall. The warm water cascading over her head had some sobering effect and she managed to towel herself dry without his help. "I think you could do with some more coffee right now!" He said, starting toward the kitchen. "Not coffee, but haldi wala doodh, just like Ma used to make. I'll make it and we can share." She followed him to the kitchen and he set a saucepan of milk on the stove and she added ground turmeric and honey. She poured off the yellow milk in a large mug and rinsed the saucepan.

Back in the room they sprawled on the floor next to the French windows, taking turns at sipping the warm milk. "Don't drink it if you dislike the taste!" She told him. "Are you kidding, Didima brought me up on this stuff. I guess most Indian kids become familiar with the drink as they grow up, common home remedy for a bad throat!" They finished off the milk and she let him nuzzle and kiss her as she made herself comfortable on his lap. "Randhir, I feel bad for that cabbie's first wife, it cannot be easy to bear when your man takes up with another woman." She said. "I know, but in their culture women are conditioned to have co-wives or to get divorced and remarry." He elaborated. 

"Phir bhi, if you love your partner you never want to share him, not even with the women he is related to. If a woman is expected to focus only on her man she begins to expect the reciprocal too." She added. "He said he fell in love with the other woman!" Randhir explained. "That may have been more heart-breaking, he married again after the first gave him two sons." She whined, not able to come to terms with the fact. "He married his cousin. It is a common custom among them, may not have had a choice but to yield to family pressure. And he found someone he fell for before marrying her because it is allowed, albeit with the first wife's consent." He sighed. "The poor first wife depends on his remittances, if she had resisted he would probably divorce her. As easy as pie, no weight on the conscience. It is so unfair!" She mouthed.

"It is not our place to debate such matters that concern other people's faiths, there is diversity in what people believe." Randhir did not see the merit in continuing the argument. If she was sobering up the feminist in her would take over now. "Diversity maybe, but people are the same no matter what race or faith, emotions run as deep for all. Heartbreak is agonising anywhere, even our own ancestors practiced polygyny. If you betray me I'll be shattered." She was telling the truth. "If you betray me, I'll probe to know why. Then if I know you have fallen for another, I'll step aside to set you free." He smiled at her. "You know that's not gonna happen Randhir!" She glared at him. 

"Not only because I love you completely, but the idea of bad Karma had been drilled into my value system. Pre-marital sex with you, drinking and eating meat, taking a puff or two of your cigarette have been hard choices to make, the guilt refuses to go. I just gloss over it because you are so broad-minded. I could never share these things with Ma, she would end up blaming herself for having given me an inadequate upbringing." She had spoken to him about her feelings earlier too. "Listen Jaan, most people are not absolutely good or bad, in their youth most people experiment, and parents don't need to know everything, because it may not fit in with what they believe. Most Indian kids will not drink or smoke or dare watch porn before their parents, leave alone have sex with the parent's knowledge."

" But majority indulge in it and still turn out right in life. This Karma theory should not be attached to everything. We enjoy the privacy for intimate sex at will, many couples back home may do it and even have kids, but will not even disrobe fully. When the man releases after pumping into his wife the act ends coldly. Most women would never ask their partner to pleasure them fully, even though it is every person's need." He caressed her as he spoke. "I am fortunate to have you as my soulmate, you are patient with me and appreciate the difference in opinion. I think it is the secret to any good marriage. But will you feel the same way about me after a few years, when I get wrinkles and grey hair, and after my breasts sag due to age?" She asked him.

  "Will you stop loving me if I slow down, become bald, obese or impotent? Ask your instinct without basing your response on your mother's values." He countered her. "I think not, because we are lucky to have each other as great companions, even if the passion and sex recedes with age." She replied genuinely. "That seals it then. If you change how you feel about me don't beat yourself with the guilt. It is ok to be selfish when priorities change. Anyway, that's enough talk for tonight, time we embark upon showing each other some passionate overtures in bed." He followed as she crawled on all fours to reach the bed. "Great piece of ass you are Shefaali, been some hours since I pleasured you." He grinned shamelessly as he switched on the lights. "True lovers must regale in mutual nakedness!" He said as he swept her into his eager arms.