65
It's been a whole month since our little sunshine made her grand entry into the world... and let me tell you something from the bottom of my sleepless, emotionally unstable soul-
POOP. EVERYWHERE.
Why do babies poop like they're being paid to do it?
No, seriously-WHY?!
She poops when she wakes up, when she sneezes, when she's hungry, when she's sleepy.
.. I swear once she even pooped while smiling at me like it was a game.
I've changed so many diapers I can now do it one-handed, blindfolded, and with a toddler trying to climb me like a monkey.
And sleep? What is that? A new k-drama?
· I'm up every 4 hours to feed her, and now my dark circles have dark circles.
· Dattatriya? Oh, he's worse.
This man REFUSES to let the baby sleep anywhere except his chest.
· He checks every 15 minutes if she's breathing.
· He stares at her like she's the 8th wonder of the world.
· Nirmay is always there, whispering baby secrets to his sister like, "Don't cry, I'll tell Mama to give you more ice cream later.
"
· And Sheraa? Sheraa growls if anyone except us holds her. Bodyguard mode: activated.
But despite the poop-pocalypse, spit-up wars, and zero sleep-I wouldn't trade this chaos for anything. This is my madhouse. My family. My heart.
And today... is our baby girl's naming ceremony.
I wore a stunning purple saree with delicate silver embroidery. It took me 40 minutes to wrap it because, well, postpartum body coordination = error 404.
Dattatriya wore a matching purple kurta, hair neatly slicked back, and still looking like a Greek god despite having slept only two hours.
Nirmay? My sunshine No.1? Dressed in a green kurta, looking like a marshmallow with a mission.
And our little princess-our tiniest star-was in a pastel green frock with white flowers, her tiny fists curled like she was already ready to punch the world.
I walked down the stairs and stopped mid-step.
And there they were...
Dattatriya sat on the swing, our daughter sleeping peacefully in one arm while he held a rattle in front of Nirmay with the other.
"Shake it like you mean it, champ," he said, eyes still on the baby, "but not too loud-your sister is sleeping like an angel."
"She's not an angel," Nirmay whispered. "She farted on me."
Dattatriya snorted. "Welcome to the sibling life."
I laughed, walking toward them, my heart melting.
He looked up and smiled, "Sunshine... you look like a goddess."
"Thanks," I grinned. "You look like a tired mythological warrior."
He chuckled, shifting the baby slightly. "Worth it."
Then, he leaned in and kissed me passionately, soft and warm.
And suddenly-
"NOOOO!!"
We broke apart, blinking.
Nirmay stood between us, tiny fists on his hips.
"Papa no kiss my Mama! That's my Mama!"
I laughed so hard I almost dropped my clutch.
Dattatriya groaned. "You traitor. You were my favorite."
"No, I'm Mama's boy," Nirmay said proudly, climbing onto my lap like a tiny, victorious lion.
Our little sunshine gurgled in her sleep. Sheraa wagged his tail beside us. The whole mansion buzzed with joy and laughter.
And in that moment, surrounded by love, chaos, and diapers-
I realized once again... I already have everything.
The sun was warm, the breeze gentle, and the entire Choudhury-Agnivanshi garden had transformed into a celebration ground. Golden marigolds danced in the wind, white drapes billowed around the canopy, and the scent of sandalwood and rose filled the air.
I waddled gracefully (don't question it-I've earned that title) into the garden, wearing my purple saree, my little princess nestled snugly in my arms, and Nirmay proudly holding the edge of my pallu like a protective little tiger.
Dattatriya walked beside me, his hand steady at my back, his eyes constantly scanning for danger and napkins because, well, baby spit happens.
And oh, what a sight awaited us...
Papa, standing tall in his crisp white kurta, wiped away a tear the moment he saw us.
Bhairava Bhaiya, ever the silent protector, stood stoically holding baby Jayash like he was cradling the future ruler of the underworld.
Arya Bhabhi, in her soft blue lehenga, grinned like the proud queen she is.
"Acha, today I'm not the only mother-in-law in the making," she teased, winking at me.
Dyan Bhaiya and Swarna Bhabhi were in the middle of what I could only call a gladiator parenting match.
"I'll hold him."
"No, he sleeps better in my arms!
"
"He's MY son!"
"He gets his anger from ME!
"
I laughed. "Guys, you're both terrifying.
Vardha deserves a trophy for surviving you two. "
Gyan Bhaiya and Adya Bhabhi stood near the fountain. Karna was sound asleep on Gyan Bhaiya's chest while Adya whispered something in his ear that made him smile like a love-struck teenager.
"Stop being cute," I mock-whispered. "You'll spoil the mafia image."
They smirked. "Too late."
Mom and Dad-yes, Pooja Mom and Shiva Dad-stood near the stage. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds, and Dad looked like he was bursting with pride.
"She looks just like you, Katha," Mom said.
"And thankfully not like Dattatriya's grumpy mafia mug," Dad joked, causing Dattatriya to grunt softly.
Garud and Utsav were sitting in a corner under a tree.
"I swear if you don't revive me in PUBG-"
"Shut up, I got sniped, bro!"
Athira, radiant in pastel green, stood elegantly like the royal blood she was. "Katha, your daughter is the cutest potato I've ever seen," she said, kissing my cheek.
We all laughed, the chaos somehow synchronizing like music.
Finally, we took our places around the havan kund, the priest beginning the pooja. The holy fire crackled, smoke curling gently into the sky.
But oh no-Dattatriya immediately went into protection mode.
"Smoke alert," he muttered, lifting our daughter gently and shifting slightly away from the fire.
He pulled Nirmay closer into his lap and placed a white cloth screen between the fire and the kids.
"She's not even 2 months old, I'm not taking chances.
"
"You've become that parent," I teased.
"And proud of it," he said, brushing a kiss to our baby's forehead.
The chants continued. Offerings were made. My heart thudded as the priest looked at us.
"And what is the name of the child?"
Dattatriya looked at me. I looked at him. We smiled.
Together, in perfect unison, we said,
"Adithi Dattatriya Katha Agnivanshi."
The priest smiled warmly.
"Adithi," he repeated, blessing her. "Boundless, free, and divine. A daughter of the heavens."
The garden erupted in cheers, shankh sounds echoed, flower petals rained over us as everyone clapped and whistled.
"Adithi!" Arya shouted.
"My baby girl's got the most royal name," Utsav added.
"She's already better than you, Nirmay," Dyan teased, making Nirmay scowl dramatically.
"No, she's my baby!" Nirmay yelled, hugging his sister tight.
And in that moment-between the chaos, the tradition, the smoke-filtering father and the angry toddler defending his rights-I realized... Adithi wasn't just born into a family. She was born into a legacy.
And she was going to rule it, one poop at a time.
The gentle hum of the ceiling fan was the only sound in the room, aside from the soft suckling of little Adithi in my arms. Her tiny fists were curled into the folds of my saree, her eyes closed in that peaceful baby sleep I cherished so much.
Beside me, Nirmay was snuggled against my thigh, his little arms wrapped around my waist as he slept soundly. One hand still clung to a half-eaten laddoo he refused to part with before dozing off.
And then there was Sharaa, our furry protector, curled at my feet with his head resting gently on Nirmay's legs, as if personally ensuring nothing disturbed his boy or his baby girl.
I looked down at all three of them-my babies-and sighed contentedly, patting their heads softly.
Just then, the door creaked open, and Dattatriya stepped in quietly, his kurta slightly ruffled from the evening events, hair tousled, but his eyes were fixed only on us. A tired smile spread across his face.
"Why do I feel like I've just walked into heaven?" he whispered, closing the door gently behind him.
I smirked. "Because your entire world is here, Mafia Boss."
He walked toward me, crouching beside the bed, his fingers gently brushing Adithi's soft black curls. "She looks so much like you, Katha... especially when she frowns in her sleep."
"She has your stubbornness," I teased, nudging his shoulder. "She already kicked me when I tried to move her from my left side."
"She's already the boss of this house," he chuckled, resting his cheek against my thigh, next to Nirmay's hand.
We sat in silence for a moment-just the four of us and Sharaa.
"She's going to be powerful, you know," he murmured. "She'll rule with fire and love. Just like her mother."
I blinked back the soft tears pricking my eyes. Damn these postpartum hormones.
"And what about Nirmay?" I asked.
Dattatriya looked up and smiled. "He'll be her sword. Her wall. Her shadow. No one will ever touch our daughter while he breathes. And no one will ever touch him while I breathe."
I looked down at him, heart swelling.
"You've changed," I whispered.
He looked confused. "How?"
"You're soft now," I said with a mock gasp. "You cry during baby commercials and get mad when I don't burp Adithi fast enough."
He narrowed his eyes. "I still run the Italian mafia."
"Uh huh, and also run for wipes when Adithi poops," I smirked.
He groaned, but then he smiled again-one of those rare, breathtaking smiles he saved only for us.
"Come here," he said.
He leaned in, gently tilting my chin up and pressed his lips to mine. It was soft, warm, and unhurried-the kind of kiss that says thank you for being mine without a single word.
But just as we melted into the moment...
A small grumpy voice mumbled, "No kiss my Mama."
We pulled apart slowly and looked down.
Nirmay, eyes still closed, face scrunched in sleep, had scolded us in his dreams.
We burst into quiet laughter, trying not to wake him up.
Dattatriya shook his head and muttered, "I'm being cockblocked by a toddler."
I smirked and kissed his cheek. "Welcome to fatherhood, love."
And in that quiet, perfect room-our tiny world wrapped in warmth and chaos-I knew we had everything we'd ever need.