Chapter four

The Naming Day

Age: 21 days

Outfit: Soft cream cotton frock, tiny gold anklets, black thread on wrist

Location: Awasthi house

Main family beat: Rooh’s naming ceremony

Progress beat: The house accepts her name officially

Hook: Aarav makes his first serious promise to Rooh

The naming ceremony began with an argument over chairs.

Not the baby.

Not the name.

Chairs.

“Why are there only twelve chairs in the hall?” Dadi asked.

Meera, sitting on the sofa with Rooh in her lap, looked tired already. “Because only fifteen people were invited.”

Dadi pointed toward the door. “There are already twenty-three.”

“That is your fault.”

“They are close family.”

Meera looked at her. “Mummyji, one of them asked me yesterday if my stitches healed.”

Dadi paused. “That one should not have come.”

Nani said from the dining table, “I told you.”

Dadi turned. “You always tell after the damage is done.”

“I told before also. You did not listen.”

Devendra stood near the entrance with a list in his hand and a look of regret on his face.

Kabir walked past him and whispered, “You should run while you can.”

Devendra caught his collar without looking. “Go arrange water glasses.”

Kabir sighed. “Child labor.”

“You are nine.”

“Still child.”

“Go.”

Kabir went.

Aarav was already arranging the puja items near the small mandir corner. He had checked the flowers twice, the rice bowl once, the diya three times, and the name card four times.

Vihaan sat near him, watching quietly.

Rudra had been told to do only one job: keep the younger cousins away from the cradle.

He took the job too seriously.

“No,” he said, blocking one cousin.

“I only want to see baby.”

“See from there.”

“Why?”

“Because your hands are sticky.”

“They are not.”

Rudra grabbed his wrist and inspected. “What is this?”

“Jaggery.”

“Sticky.”

The cousin looked offended. “I will wash.”

“Then come.”

Rudra pointed to the sink like a guard at a checkpoint.

Meera noticed and smiled a little.

“Your sons are becoming strict,” Nani said.

“My sons were always strange,” Meera replied.

Devendra heard. “They are disciplined.”

Kabir came back carrying water glasses. “Papa, don’t lie during puja.”

Everyone laughed except Devendra.

Rooh was awake in Meera’s lap, wrapped neatly in cream cotton. Meera had refused anything heavy again, but Dadi had managed to add tiny gold anklets.

“They are soft,” Dadi said before Meera could object.

“They are unnecessary.”

“They are beautiful.”

“She is not a doll.”

“She is my granddaughter.”

“She is my daughter.”

Rooh made a small sound.

Both women stopped.

Kabir leaned toward Aarav. “She is already tired of them.”

Aarav said, “Everyone is.”

The panditji arrived ten minutes late and immediately became the most respected person in the room because he brought order with him.

“Where is the baby?” he asked.

Meera adjusted Rooh and stood carefully.

Devendra moved at once. “Slowly.”

“I am walking, not climbing a mountain.”

“Still.”

Aarav came near her other side without saying anything.

Meera looked at him. “I can walk.”

“I know.”

“Then?”

“I am just standing.”

Kabir whispered from behind, “Security pillar.”

Aarav ignored him.

They sat near the small mandir. The living room had been cleared as much as possible. White sheets were spread on the floor. Marigold strings hung near the curtains. Someone had put too many flowers near the photo frames. The house smelled of ghee, incense, cardamom tea, and people.

Rooh stared at the diya.

A small flame. Steady.

Not too bright. Not too loud.

She liked it.

The ceremony started.

The panditji chanted. Dadi corrected one cousin for stepping over the puja cloth. Nani corrected the correction. Meera whispered to Devendra to keep the boys away from the sweets until after the ritual.

Devendra looked back.

Kabir already had one laddoo in hand.

Devendra pointed at him.

Kabir slowly put it back.

Rudra whispered, “Caught.”

Kabir whispered back, “Traitor.”

The panditji asked, “Name decided?”

Devendra looked at Meera.

Meera looked down at Rooh.

“Yes,” she said. “Rooh.”

Some relatives repeated it softly.

“Rooh.”

“Nice name.”

“Small name.”

“Different.”

One auntie said, “But what will be full name? For school, it should be something bigger.”

Meera’s face went flat.

Aarav answered before anyone else.

“Rooh is full name.”

The auntie laughed. “Beta, I am asking elders.”

Aarav looked at her directly. “I answered.”

Kabir almost choked on air.

Devendra gave Aarav a warning look, but not a strong one.

The panditji smiled slightly and wrote the name.

“Rooh Awasthi.”

He asked Devendra to whisper the name in the baby’s ear.

Devendra took Rooh carefully. His hands were better now, less terrified but still cautious. He held her close, leaned down, and whispered, “Rooh.”

Then he paused and whispered again, even softer, “My daughter.”

Meera heard.

She pretended she did not.

Dadi wiped her eyes.

Nani pretended she was adjusting her dupatta.

Kabir rolled his eyes but also looked pleased.

Rudra asked loudly, “Now can I eat?”

The whole room laughed.

Meera covered her face. “Rudra.”

“What? Puja finished?”

Panditji said, amused, “Almost.”

Rudra nodded seriously. “Okay.”

After the ritual, the house became loud again.

Sweets were distributed. Tea was poured. People discussed the baby’s nose, eyes, future, weight, horoscope, name, and who she resembled.

Rooh was passed only to selected people after handwashing. Meera had become stricter, and surprisingly, most people obeyed. Not happily, but they obeyed.

One relative tried to kiss Rooh’s cheek.

Aarav appeared from nowhere.

“No face kissing.”

The relative laughed. “Arre, just one.”

“No.”

“She is my niece also.”

“No.”

Kabir appeared beside him. “Rule is rule.”

Vihaan added, “Babies can get infections.”

Rudra crossed his arms. “Also she will cry.”

The relative looked at all four boys and stepped back.

Meera saw everything from the sofa.

She did not interfere.

Later, when Aarav came near her, she said quietly, “You can say things politely.”

Aarav looked down. “I was polite.”

“You were one step away from becoming a police inspector.”

“She was going to kiss her face.”

“I know.”

“So?”

Meera sighed. “So… good. But next time less police inspector.”

Aarav nodded. “Okay.”

Kabir came with a plate. “Mumma, he cannot do less police inspector. It is his natural setting.”

Aarav glared.

Kabir offered Meera a piece of barfi. “Peace?”

Meera took it.

Then Kabir looked at Rooh. “Can she eat barfi?”

“No,” everyone said together.

He lifted both hands. “I was asking for education.”

Lunch was served in the dining area and the extended hall.

The menu had been discussed for three days and still caused conflict.

Dadi wanted puri, aloo sabzi, paneer, pulao, boondi raita, kheer, and laddoo.

Meera wanted simple food because she did not want a house full of people dropping things.

Dadi won halfway.

So there was puri, aloo sabzi, paneer, pulao, raita, kheer, and also strict instructions that no child could eat near the baby.

Rudra considered this unfair.

“I am not messy.”

Kabir looked at his kurta. “There is paneer on your sleeve.”

Rudra looked down. “This just happened.”

“Exactly.”

Vihaan ate slowly and neatly.

Kabir noticed and said, “Why do you eat like a guest?”

Vihaan said, “Because I respect gravity.”

Kabir stared. “What does that mean?”

“It means food falls if you behave like Rudra.”

Rudra pointed his puri at him. “I heard that.”

“Everyone heard that,” Aarav said.

Rooh slept through most of lunch.

When she woke, the house had moved to the gift-opening stage.

This stage was dangerous.

Every relative wanted their gift appreciated more than others.

One brought baby clothes with too much lace.

Meera said, “Very nice,” in the tone she used when she would never use it.

One brought silver anklets.

Dadi approved.

One brought a tiny black-bead bracelet.

Nani said, “Good for nazar.”

Aarav inspected it and asked, “Is it safe?”

The auntie blinked. “It is bracelet.”

“Does it have sharp edge?”

Meera said, “Aarav.”

He handed it to her. “Check.”

She checked. It was fine.

Kabir brought his own gift last.

It was wrapped badly in newspaper.

Meera narrowed her eyes. “What is this?”

Kabir looked proud. “Gift.”

“You bought?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“Made.”

He opened it.

Inside was a small card. On the front, he had drawn a baby with huge eyes and four boys around her. One boy was taller than everyone else. One was smiling too much. One had glasses. One had messy hair and a sword.

On top he had written:

WELCOME HOME, ROOH.

Inside:

We are your brothers. If anyone troubles you, tell us. If you cannot talk, blink.

Meera became quiet.

Devendra read it twice.

Aarav said, “Why did you make my head so big?”

Kabir said, “Because your ego needed accuracy.”

Rudra pointed to the sword. “This is me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Vihaan looked at his drawn glasses. “Acceptable.”

Meera held the card gently. “This is very nice, Kabir.”

Kabir looked suddenly shy. “I know.”

Rooh stared at the card from Meera’s lap.

The drawing was ugly.

The writing was uneven.

The message was dramatic.

She liked it.

A lot.

By late afternoon, guests started leaving.

The house looked like a small storm had passed through. Plates in the kitchen. Flower petals on the floor. Gift bags on the sofa. One child’s hairclip under the table. Someone’s dupatta left on a chair.

Meera looked at the mess and closed her eyes.

Devendra said quickly, “I will handle.”

Meera opened one eye. “You?”

“Yes.”

“With whom?”

He looked around. “Boys.”

All four tried to disappear.

Devendra pointed. “Stop.”

Kabir said, “I am emotionally tired.”

“Clean.”

Rudra said, “I am physically small.”

“Clean.”

Vihaan said nothing and started collecting paper cups.

Aarav had already picked up the puja plates.

Meera looked satisfied.

Rooh lay in the cradle near the sofa, watching the family clean.

This was interesting.

They celebrated loudly.

Then cleaned badly.

But together.

Kabir found one unopened sweet box and tried to hide it behind his back.

Meera said, “Keep it on the table.”

“How did you know?”

“I am your mother.”

Rudra found the leftover flowers and put one marigold on Rooh’s blanket.

Meera removed it. “No flowers inside.”

Rudra sighed. “So many rules.”

Aarav said, “Rules keep people safe.”

Kabir replied, “Rules also make life boring.”

Meera said, “Balance.”

Vihaan looked up. “That is not a rule.”

Meera pointed at him. “It is now.”

Evening came slowly.

The house was cleaner.

The guests were gone.

Dadi and Nani had finally stopped arguing because both were too tired.

Meera changed Rooh into a fresh soft wrap. The tiny anklets were removed because Meera said babies did not need jewelry while sleeping.

Dadi tried to object, then yawned and gave up.

The boys were told to finish homework.

They did it in the living room because none of them wanted to leave Rooh.

Aarav sat with math.

Kabir wrote English homework while complaining every three minutes.

Vihaan read science.

Rudra drew a picture of Rooh sitting on a tiger.

Devendra checked office files at the dining table.

Meera rested on the sofa.

For once, the room was not silent but peaceful.

A lived-in noise.

Pages turning.

Pencil scratching.

Pressure cooker whistle from the kitchen.

Dadi talking to someone on the phone in a low voice.

Rudra humming badly.

Kabir saying, “Stop.”

Rudra humming louder.

Aarav saying, “Both of you stop.”

Vihaan saying, “Actually, humming can help focus.”

Kabir saying, “Not his humming.”

Rooh watched them.

This was her name day.

No palace.

No grand event.

No perfect family photo.

Just cream cotton, too many relatives, rule-breaking cousins, food stains, handwashing, a crooked label, and four brothers who thought a newborn could report trouble by blinking.

Good.

That was enough.

Night settled.

Meera fed Rooh and placed her near her on the bed for a while. Aarav came to the door and knocked properly this time.

Meera looked surprised. “Come.”

He entered quietly.

“Can I sit?”

“Yes.”

He sat on the chair beside the bed, hands washed, hair messy now, kurta changed into nightclothes.

For a minute, he said nothing.

Then he looked at Rooh.

“Everyone said she will be spoiled,” he said.

Meera smiled faintly. “She probably will be.”

“No,” Aarav said. “Spoiled means ruined.”

Meera looked at him properly.

Aarav continued, serious as always. “We can love her without ruining her.”

Meera did not speak for a moment.

Then she said, “That is a big thing to understand at eleven.”

He shrugged.

Rooh’s eyes were half-open.

Aarav leaned closer, but not too close.

“I will not let anyone make you weak,” he whispered.

Meera’s expression changed.

“Aarav,” she said softly, “she does not have to be strong all the time.”

He thought about that.

“Okay,” he said. “Then I will let her rest also.”

Meera laughed quietly.

Aarav looked embarrassed. “I mean it.”

“I know.”

He stood up to leave, then stopped.

“And Mumma?”

“Yes?”

“If relatives say stupid things, I am allowed to be police inspector?”

Meera sighed. “Half police inspector.”

“How much is half?”

“Ask your father.”

“He will say no.”

“Then ask me tomorrow.”

Aarav nodded and left.

Meera looked down at Rooh.

“You heard your brother?” she whispered. “He has already made your life a project.”

Rooh blinked slowly.

Meera smiled. “Poor girl.”

But she did not sound sorry.

Later, when everyone slept, the house stayed gently messy around her.

The name card was still near the mandir.

The ugly brother drawing was tucked beside Meera’s pillow.

The stuffed tiger faced the door.

The black-bead bracelet sat in a small steel bowl, waiting until Meera decided it was safe enough.

And Rooh slept without noise, without dreams, without disturbance.

Just sleep.

Deep and simple.

The kind babies were supposed to have.

Hook: The next morning, Aarav added a new rule to the family list: “Rooh will be loved properly, not stupidly.”

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