Page 119 of The Circle of Exile
“Try coffee,” Noora hollered.
“Then we will give him to you only to put to sleep,” Begumjaan snapped back, holding out another spoonful. Even crying it out, his son opened his mouth.
“He is not wrong,” Adil chimed. “His father likes nothing but Americano.”
“Your people don’t know about their CM’s sweetteeth,” Iram whispered in his ear as Grandma swapped places with Begumjaan to feed Yathaarth. By now, he had gotten over his new-food tantrum and was happily lapping the tiny spoonfuls.
“Youmake me breakfast trays like a truck of mango exploded on them. Doesn’t mean I douse myself in sugar.”
“You said, and I believed.”
“Ab shishu ke saamne pustak, kataar aur kheer rakhiye,[42]” the priest directed. His assistant lined up a book, a knife and a bowl of kheer in front of Yathaarth.
“What is this for?” Grandma leaned in as Atharva let go of his son’s hands.
“It’s a game,” Atharva explained. “Whatever he reaches for, foretells his future.”
His son went straight for the book and everybody around them broke into chuckles.
“Oops,” Adil muttered. “Family profession over father’s profession.”
“Father wasn’t good with knives anyway,” Samar commented, sitting in a chair, looking much healthier and normal without his compression garments. If one did not glance at the backs of his hands or the sides of his neck, one wouldn’t know he had been burnt to the third degree six months ago.
“If you mean how to use it for slicing openstomachs, then no,” Atharva traded the barb.
“Shishu gyaani banega[43],” the priest announced with a flourish and everybody broke into a round of applause. Atharva found that his son enjoyed the attention even as he buried his head into his chest.
“What does it mean?” Grandma asked, holding her palm out to Yathaarth. He banged it like a banjo with both hands and she made entertaining noises for him with every bang.
“It means he will grow up to become a scholar.”
“What didyoureach for as a baby?” Iram pointed.
“The knife, of course!” Ada answered for him.
“First, we need to know what the kheer stands for,” Mirza interjected.
Atharva glanced at their priest to enlighten the lot.
“Shishu agar pustak chunta hai toh woh gyaani banega, agar kataar chunta hai toh shur-veer banega, aur agar kheer chunta hai toh daani banega.[44]”
“Bhai is our in-house Harishchandra,” Fahad declared. “It would have been kheer for sure.”
“Ha, they didn’t know you during SFF,” Adil lamented. Atharva laughed. He had been their Captain and pretty generous, but before that, he had been the biggest Maggi masala thief in their platoon. Ruthless, merciless, pitiless.
“So, what did you choose?” Iram nudged him. “Grandma, were you there?”
“No, child. Athar’s ceremony happened around the time of Claire’s delivery.”
Yathaarth began to reach for the blade of the naked knife and Atharva held him back, pushing the objects back to the priest.
“He is coming to the fraternity, everyone!” Adil clapped.
“Almost,” Qureshi added as the knife was packed up, away from Yathaarth’s little hands.
“Can I also do it?” Maha pleaded.
“What did you choose, Atharva Bhai?” Daniyal pushed, holding his sister back.
