Page 115 of The Circle of Exile
“You are so done.” He strode down the room and swooped over her, making her fall to her back. Before he could do more, their son rolled over sensing fun time and began to climb up her stomach between them. Atharva laughed, carefully holding his bum as he reached his summit on top of her chest.
“Who calls the shots here, Dilbaro?” Atharva pecked his head. He began to sit straight and go towards his father when she wiggled her fingers under his pheran on his back. His favourite spot to laugh. Her son instantly turned and threw himself on her chest.
“Oh, Janab has decided!” Iram laughed, holding him tight and looking up at amused grey eyes. Atharva’s head came down and pressed his lips to her cheek, then her mouth — “You look good while cheating.”
Her mouth dropped open. He pressed his mouth back down on hers, pushing his tongue inside to sweep lazily.
“I am going down. You want me to take him and leave you to get ready in peace?”
“Yes, please. I will have to wrestle my way into my reception blouse with the way I have been eating.”
“You are not there yet, myani zuv. And today is wazwan.”
She grinned — “Dum aloo.”
Atharva smirked, straightening up with their son swooped in his arms like some Samurai. Yathaarth loved these tricks and was already shaking.
“Pops and Grandma have landed,” she informed him. “You were in the bathroom when Pops called.”
Atharva pulled his pocket watch from the depths of his pheran pocket — “They should be here in half an hour. I hate this last-minute thing with Pops. He could have flown in this weekend. Or even last night.”
“It’s alright now, don’t frown. Today is a good day, and we are seeing them after a long time. Don’t pick a fight.”
Yathaarth was straining in his arms, for what, they couldn't figure out. That was his SOP when he was bored being held in one position. Atharva changed arms — “You think I’ll have time to pick a fight?”
“No, but you can do that with your eyes too.”
His brows relaxed. Iram smiled. His gruff was his love language where his Pops was concerned. Like Pops, like grandson.
“Happy?”
His mobile buzzed on the bed beside her. Iram saw it was Adil and swiped the speaker button — “Janab is currently trying to contain Junior Janab,” she informed.
“Ask Janab to come down for his dastaar.”
“Your turban person has come,” she relayed.
“I am coming, Adil. Ask him if he needs the fabric or he brought it along?”
“He brought it, but Noora wants it.”
Iram snorted.
Atharva rolled his eyes — “Give it. I am getting my father’s.”
He handed Yathaarth down to her and strode out of the bedroom. She waited, playing with her son, relaxing before their home came alive with happy pandemonium. It was after a long time that so many people would convene at this house. The security was tightened beyond anybody’s imagination. The ceremony was supposed to be a small, intimate one with only friends and family. But with the recent attacks on Pundits coming back home to the valley, Atharva had decided to open this ceremony up for more than just their family. Make this a way to show the Pundits that were on the edge about if they should return home or not, that it was safe. Show those who were trying to target Pundits that they would not stop until they had claimed their home back. Atharva had decided to include his political partners and contemporaries too. Which would mean everybody — from Janta Party to Awaami biggies, MLAs to bureaucrats.
“Behave in front of all of them and try to eat the new food we feed you,” Iram tinkered with her son’s chin. His mouth dropped open and his happy face banged into the crook of her neck, his hand coming to her breast. Iram preened, feeling like she had never felt before with this little gesture of need.
“I’ll always be here, but now you have your big boy food too. You are going to love it, mmm?” She kissed his head. He smelled of the sweetest baby powder and milk mix. Mehrunisa had told her to fill herself up with this scent because once he started solids, he would not smell this pure and serene. She kissed him and took another deep whiff, making a mental note to email today’s pictures to her. She had given her an email ID made during her university days in the US. It would be safe enough to send these pictures on that ID once she consulted Atharva.
“Myani zuv?”
She craned up to find him walking back in, a folded beige fabric in hand.
“Come here.”
“What happened?” She sat up and pressed Yathaarth in her lap. Atharva strode to her and came down on his haunches between her legs, offering her the small red velvet box.
