Non-Veg Night

The bohemian vestiges of Piyush Shah and his wife stay swaddled out of sight within their austere Jain lifestyle. Only their weekly binge of chicken biryani and beer in one of Mumbai’s finest Irani restaurants keeps the magic alive.

Piyush Shah held up an umbrella to keep the glare of the naked lightbulbs strung across the street out of his wife’s eyes as they sauntered out of Cafe Military into the balmy night. Mumbai’s ever-present smoke and dust made wearing contacts hazardous and Aarti would not be caught dead wearing spectacles. He, on the other hand, had no choice. The numbers he wrestled with as a chartered accountant specializing in tax audits became a blur without his spectacles. 

Their weekly fix of non-veg food had once again left them with a warm feeling of well-being. His cholesterol was probably surging through the roof. The exotic aroma of ginger, garlic, and onions lingering on their breath was worth the insulin shot he now needed to take without any further delay. The forbidden taste of chicken biryani and egg masala, washed down with raspberry soda (him) and Kingfisher beer (her), and topped by caramel custard (also egg) satiated their senses. It was a sinfully satisfying way to end the week, a delightful practice they had both adhered to religiously ever since they settled in to live with the rest of their very Jain, very observant, joint family in Mumbai.

Dunhills for her to smoke in the privacy of the balcony outside his office in Karim Chamber nestled in his pocket. She carried a slim lighter in the shape of a sewing kit with her fashion merchandizing company’s logo. All very discreet. Both of them were very aware they were no longer young, bohemian grad students at UT Austin.