Chapter five

The First Food Fight

Age: 6 months

Outfit: Soft peach cotton frock, tiny black-bead bracelet, small silver anklets for the ceremony

Location: Awasthi house

Main family beat: Rooh’s first solid food ceremony

Progress beat: Her food habits begin showing clearly

Hook: Rooh rejects one spoon and accepts another, starting a lifelong family joke

By six months, Rooh had trained the house better than anyone expected.

Not by speaking.

Not by doing anything big.

Just by reacting.

Too much perfume? Cry.

Too much noise? Stare until someone noticed.

Unwashed hands near her? Turn face away.

Rudra coming in straight from the playground? Immediate angry sound.

Kabir once said, “She has quality control.”

Meera said, “Good. Someone in this house should.”

Rooh’s first solid food ceremony became a bigger event than Meera wanted and smaller than Dadi wanted, which meant both women were equally dissatisfied.

“It should be proper,” Dadi said early morning, already dressed in a green silk saree.

“It is proper,” Meera said, tying her hair in front of the mirror. “We are doing puja, family lunch, first kheer. What else do you want?”

“More relatives.”

“No.”

“Only close family.”

“Your close family has no end.”

Nani, sitting on the bed with Rooh in her lap, said, “Call fewer people, feed better food.”

Dadi turned. “You always act like your side knows everything.”

Nani lifted her chin. “Because we do.”

Meera took Rooh from her. “Both of you can fight after the ceremony.”

Rooh wore a peach cotton frock because Meera refused the stiff lehenga Dadi had bought.

“She cannot even sit properly,” Meera said.

Dadi said, “Photos?”

“She can look cute and breathe at the same time.”

Kabir entered the room with a comb in his hand. “Mumma, Aarav is shouting because Rudra put oil in his hair.”

Meera closed her eyes. “Why?”

Kabir shrugged. “Rudra said it was for shine.”

From the hallway, Aarav shouted, “It is sticky!”

Rudra shouted back, “You look rich!”

Vihaan said calmly, “You look wet.”

Meera handed Rooh to Nani. “I will be back.”

Rooh watched her mother leave and then looked at Nani.

Nani smiled. “Your brothers are mad.”

Rooh made a soft sound.

Nani laughed. “Yes, all of them.”

Downstairs, the dining table had already turned into a planning center.

There was kheer for Rooh’s first taste, but Meera had also made plain mashed rice and moong dal water because she did not trust everyone’s sugar enthusiasm.

Dadi wanted the baby to taste sweet first.

Meera wanted the baby to taste something simple first.

Nani wanted both.

Devendra wanted peace.

He did not get it.

“Sweet is auspicious,” Dadi said.

“Simple food is better for digestion,” Meera said.

“It is one spoon.”

“One spoon also counts.”

Dadi looked at Devendra. “Say something.”

Devendra looked at Meera, then at his mother, then at Rooh.

“Both are good.”

Kabir whispered, “Coward.”

Devendra heard. “Water glasses.”

Kabir left immediately.

Aarav came with a small notebook.

Meera narrowed her eyes. “What now?”

“Feeding order,” Aarav said.

“There is no feeding order.”

“There should be.”

Dadi looked pleased. “Eldest should feed first.”

Nani said, “Mother should feed first.”

Devendra said, “Panditji will tell.”

Meera said, “I will feed first. Everyone else can bless her.”

Aarav paused, then nodded. “Correct.”

Dadi opened her mouth, but Rooh made a small sound from Meera’s lap.

Everyone looked at her.

Dadi sighed. “Fine. Mother first.”

Kabir returned with water glasses. “Rooh decided.”

Rudra sat on the floor near the low table. “Can I feed her second?”

“No,” Meera said.

“Third?”

“No.”

“Fourth?”

“Rudra.”

“I will wash hands.”

“You still cannot.”

Rudra looked insulted. “Why?”

“Because you fed yourself with one hand and scratched your knee with the other.”

Kabir laughed. “Evidence-based rejection.”

Vihaan said, “Valid.”

Rudra crossed his arms. “When I grow up, I will feed my own baby first.”

Meera said, “Good. Wash hands then also.”

The puja was small. Meera insisted on that.

The mandir corner was decorated with marigold and jasmine. The diya was lit. Rooh sat in Meera’s lap, watching the flame with serious eyes. Aarav sat straight, as if this was a board meeting. Kabir kept making faces until Meera looked at him. Vihaan followed the mantra carefully. Rudra tried to sit still and failed every thirty seconds.

The panditji smiled at Rooh. “Very calm baby.”

Kabir muttered, “Selective calm.”

Meera nudged him with her foot.

After the short prayer, Meera took the small silver bowl of kheer.

Rooh looked at it.

Rice, milk, a little jaggery, cardamom. Meera had made it herself, not too sweet, not too thick.

Dadi leaned forward. “Just a little.”

Meera gave her a look. “I know.”

She touched the spoon to Rooh’s lips.

Rooh opened her mouth.

Everyone held their breath.

She tasted it.

Paused.

Then made a face.

Kabir slapped his hand over his mouth.

Rudra whispered, “She hates it.”

Dadi looked personally hurt. “She does not hate it.”

Rooh pushed the spoon away with her tongue.

Kabir lost control and laughed.

Aarav said, “Don’t laugh.”

Kabir said, “Her face!”

Meera tried again.

Rooh turned her head away.

Dadi said, “Maybe more sugar?”

Meera said, “No.”

Nani said, “Try rice.”

Meera took the other bowl. Plain soft mashed rice with a little dal water.

She touched a tiny spoon to Rooh’s mouth.

Rooh tasted it.

No face.

No anger.

She swallowed.

The whole room went silent.

Kabir stared. “She chose plain rice over kheer.”

Vihaan said, “Interesting.”

Rudra looked confused. “But kheer is better.”

Aarav looked proud for no reason. “She likes simple food.”

Dadi looked betrayed. “What kind of baby refuses kheer?”

Meera smiled slowly. “My daughter.”

Devendra laughed under his breath.

Nani looked extremely satisfied. “Good. Not greedy for sugar.”

Dadi turned to her. “One spoon of kheer does not make a child greedy.”

Nani said, “Still, she has taste.”

Kabir came near Rooh and bent down. “Madam, you are already difficult.”

Rooh looked at him with full seriousness.

Kabir pointed at her. “See? She knows.”

Meera wiped Rooh’s mouth with a soft cloth.

“Enough for today,” she said.

Dadi protested. “One more spoon.”

“No.”

“Just a little.”

“No.”

“Meera—”

“The baby is done.”

That ended it.

Rooh sat in Meera’s lap, calm again.

The family took photos.

Too many photos.

Rooh with Meera.

Rooh with Devendra.

Rooh with Dadi and Nani, who both tried to hold the baby from the better angle.

Rooh with all four elder brothers.

That photo took the longest.

Aarav wanted everyone to stand properly.

Kabir kept tilting his head.

Vihaan blinked in two photos.

Rudra kept holding the stuffed tiger near Rooh’s face.

Meera finally snapped, “One proper photo or nobody gets lunch.”

They stood properly.

Mostly.

In the photo, Rooh sat in Aarav’s arms, Kabir leaned in from one side, Vihaan stood calmly at the back, and Rudra held the tiger like it was also part of the family.

After photos, lunch started.

This was where the second fight began.

Because Devendra’s younger brother arrived with a box.

“Special fish fry,” he announced proudly. “For everyone.”

Meera froze.

Dadi looked at him. “Today?”

He looked confused. “What happened?”

Meera’s voice stayed calm. “Today is Rooh’s first food ceremony.”

“So? This is for adults.”

Nani made a face. “At least keep it in the kitchen.”

Aarav looked at the box, then at Rooh.

Kabir whispered, “Bad timing.”

Rudra asked, “Can I eat?”

Meera said, “Not near Rooh.”

Devendra stepped in quickly. “Keep it outside on the back table. Whoever wants can eat there.”

His brother laughed. “Arre, baby does not know.”

Meera looked at him.

The room became quiet.

“She does not need to know,” Meera said. “I know.”

That was enough.

The box went to the back table.

From that day, one thing became clear in the house: food around Rooh had rules.

Not dramatic rules.

Not insulting rules.

Just rules.

Meera had already started noticing that Rooh reacted badly to strong smells. She did not like messy hands near her. She did not like sticky spoons. She did not settle if people ate loudly over her.

So Meera made a system.

Rooh’s bowls separate.

Rooh’s spoons separate.

Rooh’s cloth separate.

Baby food made fresh.

No one dipped used spoons into her bowl.

No tasting and feeding from the same spoon.

No random food in her mouth just because relatives found it cute.

Dadi grumbled at first.

Then one day a cousin tried to put a sweet near Rooh’s lips with his own hand, and Rooh cried so sharply that Dadi herself shouted, “Wash your hands first!”

Meera looked at her.

Dadi said, “What? Baby has standards.”

Kabir started calling Rooh “Queen of Clean.”

Aarav corrected him. “Don’t make fun.”

“I am not making fun. It is respect.”

Vihaan said, “She does prefer clean handling.”

Rudra said, “She is right. Sticky hands are bad.”

Kabir stared at him. “You discovered this today?”

Rudra ignored him.

By evening, the relatives left, and the house relaxed.

Meera changed Rooh out of the peach frock and into a soft white night suit. The anklets came off. The black-bead bracelet stayed because it was light and smooth.

Rooh had eaten very little, but the whole house behaved like she had passed an exam.

Dadi told three people on the phone, “She ate rice nicely.”

Nani told someone else, “She rejected too much sweet. Smart child.”

Devendra told his office friend, “First food done.”

Kabir told his school friend on the landline, “My sister hates kheer. Very serious personality.”

Aarav heard and said, “Don’t spread misinformation.”

Kabir covered the receiver. “It is family news.”

Rudra came running with his own plate. “Rooh, see, I am eating rice also.”

He sat too close.

Meera said, “Distance.”

Rudra shifted back.

Then he lifted his spoon proudly and spilled dal on his shorts.

Kabir clapped. “Excellent demonstration.”

Rudra glared. “At least I am eating healthy.”

Vihaan said, “Healthy food on clothes has reduced value.”

Aarav brought a cloth and cleaned the floor before Meera asked.

Meera noticed.

She always noticed.

Later that night, Rooh lay on the bed while Meera folded her clothes.

Devendra came in with a small steel container.

“What is that?” Meera asked.

“Extra kheer.”

“Why?”

“For you.”

Meera paused.

He shrugged. “You barely ate.”

She took it without comment.

Then he added, “I told them from next time, non-veg outside only if there is baby function.”

Meera looked up.

“Not because it is bad,” he said quickly. “Just because strong smell. And you get tense.”

Meera’s face softened.

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

Small thing.

Big thing.

That was how this house worked.

Nobody changed fully in one day. They argued. They forgot. They complained. They teased.

But slowly, they adjusted.

For Rooh, separate spoons appeared.

Fresh cloths appeared.

Hands got washed.

Strong smells were moved away.

Food was not forced.

Her mother checked.

Her father supported.

Her brothers watched.

The next morning, Kabir entered the room with a serious face.

Meera looked suspicious. “What did you do?”

“Nothing. I have a question.”

“That usually means something.”

Kabir ignored that and looked at Rooh. “If she rejected kheer, does that mean I can have her share forever?”

Aarav answered from the doorway. “No.”

Kabir turned. “Why are you everywhere?”

“Because you are always planning something.”

Rudra ran in behind him. “I want kheer.”

Vihaan followed. “There is no kheer left.”

Kabir looked offended. “Who ate?”

Meera lifted the empty steel container from the side table.

Everyone looked at her.

She looked back calmly. “I gave birth. I get priority.”

Devendra, passing by the door, said, “Correct.”

Kabir whispered to Rooh, “This house has politics. Learn early.”

Rooh blinked once.

Kabir gasped. “She agrees.”

Aarav sighed. “Do not start.”

But he was smiling.

That day, Meera wrote a small note and stuck it inside the kitchen cabinet.

Rooh’s things: separate. Fresh food only. No used spoons. No force-feeding.

Dadi saw it and rolled her eyes.

Then she added below it in her own handwriting:

Also no kissing face.

Nani came later and added:

And no stupid advice.

When Kabir saw the note, he added one more line:

Ask Rooh before giving kheer.

Meera scolded him.

But she did not remove it.

Hook: Years later, whenever Rooh refused something with a calm face, Kabir would say, “Careful. This is the same girl who rejected kheer at six months.”

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