Hi all, do read my new story Aboli, one chapter is published already : )

Sanyukta had lived an insular life through her childhood, rarely interacting with people outside her extended family. She got her first glimpse of a different lifestyle when she began visiting Shekhawat mansion after having cultivated a friendship with Vidushi. Her love for Randhir drew her to Mumbai and after that her life changed dramatically. She had never dreamt of the myriad different experiences and the exposure that would reshape her existence in the country's largest metropolis. She loved the freedom and anonymity the city gave her, as long as she was careful and did not go looking for trouble Mumbaikars assimilated her as one of their own, never prying, asking meddlesome questions or invading her privacy in the city's indomitable spirit of live and let live. It also gave her the opportunity to acquaint herself with an eclectic mix of people whom she either cultivated friendship with or became indebted to for the support they provided her.

These included her music guru, her landlady, YoYo with whom she had moonlighted as a bartender on several occasions, Jiggy, who was her financial consultant and Polina, the exotic dancer and escort. Some others opened up their hearts and home to her, offering her a portal to Mumbai's hospitality. Rukmini belonged to Mumbai's native fisher folk or Koli community, whom she met at the local wet market and who took an instant liking for her, assuring her of a supply of fresh fish at the most reasonable price. When the hotel where Sanyukta was training decided to hold a Koli food festival Sanyukta eagerly suggested Rukmini's name as a culinary consultant, offering to act as a go-between to make communication flow more easily. 

One of the benefits Sanyukta reaped out of this was that she got a fortnight off from Aryan's company. He had never anticipated this move and could do nothing about it. The hotel management appreciated Sanyukta's enthusiasm and she got special permission to work in the speciality kitchen where the Koli recipes would be prepared under the guidance of Rukmini. Once the menu had been decided the hotel chef and Sanyukta were sent on an orientation tour to the wholesale fish market so they could order the seafood. Sanyukta was even invited to Rukmini's home where she enjoyed a rustic feast of stuffed squids, brinjals and dried shrimps, partially sun-dried Bombay duck fish called bamboo-chey-bombil cooked in a special Koli masala, fried fish, gaboli or fish roe pickle with rice flour rotis. 

What impressed Sanyukta the most was the position of Koli women in their society. While the men did the fishing or held day jobs, the fish wives worked very hard at selling the seafood in the local markets, earning them their economic independence and respect. They had a strong identity of their own and were a force to reckon with. Rukmini's two sons were highly educated, one practised medicine and another was an architect, though she has no qualms about continuing her hereditary profession. Sanyukta came to appreciate and admire the Koli culture with its distinctive cuisine, costumes, music, dancing and their festivals like Shimga (Holi) and Narali Punav which corresponds with Rakhi Poonam, when the Kolis symbolically offer prayers and a coconut to the sea to augur in a new fishing season after the fury of the monsoon recedes. 

Koli women wear traditional chunky gold jewellery and are renowned for their sharp tongues, their husbands and their customers both avoid confronting them. Nevertheless they were very hospitable to Sanyukta and plied her with sweets like baked stuffed bananas and coconut and jaggery filled gujiya called Purniyas. They told her about their worship of deities like Goddess Ekvira whose temple is in Karla near Lonavala, also Hinglai devi, Vithoba, Khandoba and Hanuman, although the East Indians converts practise Roman Catholicism. She even attended the fair of the temple deity in Rukmini's village, witnessing the palkhi procession and joining in the festivities, dancing and the revelry that followed.

Another unusual acquaintance was the Parsi couple whose vintage cars were serviced by Rahim Chacha's garage. Randhir was a favourite of Mr Panthaky because of his knowledge and passion for automobiles. Like a typical Parsi gentleman his age, Rustom Panthaky loved his cars like his own children and insisted on Randhir handling them because he trusted him fully. One evening as Sanyukta and Aman waited in Rahim Chacha's garage for Randhir to finish work on Rustomji's car so that he could take them out for a movie, the Panthakys arrived there with their grandson Parzaan who happened to be Aman's classmate from school. They had come to hand over the invitation card for their younger son's wedding to both Rahim Chacha and Randhir. 

Randhir introduced Sanyukta to them as his partner and Aman as his partner in crime. Mrs. Panthaky recognised them both instantly as she had been present for the annual day function in school when Sanyukta and Aman went up on stage to accept his award. She told Sanyukta that she admired her for being a mother to Aman, the whole kindergarten knew about Aman's background and Sanyukta's role in his life. She extended Randhir's invitation to include Sanyukta and Aman as guests for the wedding, making them promise that they would all attend, even as Rahim Chacha declined politely as he had a family occasion to be at the same evening.

Both Aman and Sanyukta were very excited as it was to be their first Parsi wedding. As she got dressed and walked out of the room Sanyukta invited a wolf whistle from Randhir. She looked stunning in a pink chiffon saree and halter neck choli, chandelier earrings and high heels. Her hair was piled high on her head and her make-up enhanced her natural beauty. Randhir could have never guessed his lover packed such a mighty punch in the looks department, he had never seen her decked up before. He wanted to kiss her but she would not let him, lest he ruin her lipstick. As they drove to the wedding venue Randhir kept turning his head in her direction, alarming her. She had to remind him more than once to focus on his driving. 

The wedding was being held at the Baug attached to an Agiary or Parsi Fire Temple, a traditional venue for Parsi nuptials. They noticed that the rituals were influenced by those of a Gujarati Hindu wedding, and the bridal couple dazzled in white costumes. The men wore long daglis and the women wore ornate bordered sarees called garas. At the end of the ceremony and prayers the couple, bound by seven strands of strings, exchanged rings after they were showered with rose petals and rice grains. As Aman ran off to join Parzaan and his cousins, Randhir and Sanyukta met the hosts and congratulated them and the bridal couple. Formality done, Randhir picked up drinks from the bar for both of them. 

After a couple of drinks he led Sanyukta to the dance floor, and they joined the other couples swaying to the music. A lively jive followed, getting them excited as they sashayed without a care in the world. This was the first social occasion they were attending as a couple and did not have to keep distance from each other as nobody present knew either of their families. They managed to let their hair down; having a whale of a time, just like the other guests. After a while the lights dimmed and the mood and the music slowed, with only the most romantic pairs, including Randhir and Sanyukta, remaining on the dance floor, clinging to each other and swaying to the soft ballads. Sanyukta wanted the moment to last forever as she rested on his shoulder while his lips caressed her nape softly, their cadence slow, until they felt a tug on the side. It was Aman who needed to use the toilet, and Sanyukta smiled sweetly at Randhir who looked just a bit annoyed to have the spell broken. Nevertheless they all took a restroom break.

As soon as they heard the caterer's man call "Jamva Chalo Ji", the invitation to join the feast, they sat down for the wedding banquet called Lagan nu bhonu, served on banana leaves on long sprigs of tables. Sanyukta sat in between, with Randhir to her right so she could assist Aman. Colourful drinks like lemon, orange and raspberry soda were offered. First to appear were gajar mewa nu achaar, a relish of carrots, dates and raisins served with thick white papads called sariya and chapatis. The course-wise feast followed, commencing with bhida par edu- okra and eggs baked like a frittata, the iconic patra ni macchi, consisting of pomfret fillet coated with green coconut chutney, wrapped in banana leaves and steamed. 

Crumb fried chicken called margi na faarcha followed. On special order there was the softest Topli Na Paneer and Kid Gosht or baby lamb delicately flavoured with green cardamom and ginger and then broiled. Mutton pulao was brought in with Tur Dal Masala. As the meal wound up bearers came by to help the diners rinse their hands. The famous Lagan Nu Custard arrived, flavoured with vanilla, nutmeg and topped with charoli seeds before being baked to perfection. The feast was ambrosial, cooked by the famous Parsi wedding caterer Godiwalla in pure Porbandar ghee and on wood fires.

On their way back Aman fell fast asleep in the car and Randhir had to carry him to his bed as Sanyukta went upstairs to change and freshen up. The evening had been magical and it ended even more gloriously as the young couple, fuelled by a nightcap of brandy, began another fervent session of lovemaking. As always Randhir had insisted that she put on her mangalsutra before he undressed her slowly, stretching the sweet torture of his foreplay until she lost all patience. It was as if their appetite was stoked by seeing another couple united by the sacrament of marriage. Between their pillow talk they went through the pictures they had snapped all evening, discovering how the three of them- man, woman and child looked like a perfect family, anybody seeing the pictures would be surprised to be told otherwise.