Chapter 2: The Blessing Ceremony
30 December 1975
Singh Family Home, Aminabad, Lucknow, India
The winter sun over Lucknow was soft, wrapped in a silver mist that blurred the rooftops and softened the cries of vendors on the streets. The Singh household, a modest two-storey haveli tucked between a bookshop and a tailoring shop near Aminabad, buzzed with life. Its carved wooden doors, latticed windows, and tulsi-planted courtyard were alive with preparations.
Inside, time felt sacred.
It had been five days since Bharat was born, and the family had planned a Jatakarma and Namkaran Sanskar—a blessing ceremony to welcome their newest member into the world. But to the Singh family, this wasn't just a ritual.
It was a promise to the soul that had returned.
The House Awakens
By early morning, garlands of fresh marigolds and mango leaves framed the entrance. Inside, rangoli in reds, yellows, and greens spiraled outward from the temple. The smell of ghee, agarbatti, and sandalwood filled the air.
In the open courtyard, Ajay helped set the low platform with clean white cloth, bowls of rice, a brass plate of turmeric, rose petals, and kumkum.
He moved carefully, as if arranging not a ceremony, but a sacred offering to time itself.
Ajay – The Anchor
Ajay had hardly slept in days. But exhaustion didn't matter. Every moment since Bharat's birth had filled him with renewed purpose. He'd begun waking up earlier, speaking softer, listening more.
Fatherhood changes you, he thought, watching the early rays strike the tulsi plant. Not just what you do, but who you are.
When he held Bharat at night, he often whispered dreams into his ears. "You will grow up with science in your left hand and dharma in your right. You'll serve—not conquer."
And though Bharat never answered, Ajay felt the boy understood.
Vandana – The Mother in Bloom
In the bedroom lit by morning sun, Vandana was being helped into a clean red cotton saree by Saraswati. The delivery had weakened her body, but not her spirit.
Bharat rested beside her, his tiny fists curled, his eyes calm.
"He hasn't cried much, Ma," she whispered. "Just... watches."
Saraswati nodded. "Bachpan mein bhi kuch log chhupkar sab kuchh samajh lete hain. Tumhara beta unmein se hai."
(Sometimes, some children understand everything in silence. Your son is one of them.)
Vandana touched Bharat's cheek gently. "He feels... older. Like he's done this before."
Guests Arrive – The Neighborhood Joins
By late morning, the extended Singh family and neighborhood friends had begun arriving.
From the old Chowdhury couple down the lane to the schoolteachers Vandana worked with, the house was full of saris rustling, clinking bangles, and barefoot children chasing each other around the courtyard.
Shanti Devi entered first, carrying a box of laddoos and a woollen blanket she had knit herself. "We've come to see the nawab of your house," she laughed.
Her granddaughters giggled beside her. "We brought him a toy elephant!"
Every person brought something small, but full of love.
Pooja – The Sister's Dream
Seated near the baby, Pooja had draped her dupatta over her shoulder like a protective shield. She had taken leave from school and spent all her time at home since Bharat's arrival.
She had already told her friends, "He's not just my nephew. He's my little twin soul."
"Main tujhe doctor banakar hi chhodungi," she whispered to Bharat with mock sternness. "Padhaai shuru kar le, sun raha hai na?"
The child blinked, as if acknowledging her. She burst into a soft laugh.
There's something strange about this child, she often thought. He sees through people. Even me.
Raghav – The Middle Brother
Wearing his favorite beige jacket, Raghav moved through the guests like a warm gust of wind. He handed out tea, adjusted seating, and cracked jokes with cousins.
But every now and then, he'd glance toward Bharat, held in Vandana's lap, and grow quiet.
"You're already the star of this house," he murmured once. "We'll be best friends, you and I. But I'll teach you to laugh through everything."
He wasn't sure why he felt so drawn—so protective. He only knew that Bharat made him feel like life had just offered them all a fresh beginning.
Arjun – The Protector
Arjun stood quietly in a corner, arms folded behind his back. The courtyard reminded him of home drills—rituals, honor, responsibility. But today felt different.
When the priest arrived and placed the kalash on the altar, Arjun stepped forward to help. As the mantras filled the air, he watched Bharat with intensity.
A memory flickered—of a dream he had before Bharat's birth. A battlefield, a child with a bow in his hand. At the time, he had dismissed it.
Now, looking at his nephew, he wondered.
He's come with a mission.
The Pandit's Words – A Sacred Naming
The family Pandit, a thin, saffron-clad man with ash streaks on his forehead, began the ceremony with mantras from the Rigveda and Atharvaveda.
"ॐ नमो भगवते वासुदेवाय।"
Incense spiraled toward the open sky as the name was chosen:
"Bharat"
The name of an emperor. Of a land. Of dharma.
The courtyard echoed with applause and shouts of joy. Vandana wept quietly. Ajay bowed his head.
Even the leaves of the peepal tree outside trembled.
Bharat's Thought – A Name Remembered
From his soft quilt, as rice grains were sprinkled and sandal paste touched his forehead, Bharat blinked slowly.
They've given me a name I once bore with pride, he thought. This time, I will live it from the beginning.
His eyes wandered across the courtyard. His heart beat steady—not with confusion, but commitment.
The Feast – Sharing Abundance
As tradition demanded, the poor were fed.
In the afternoon, Raghav and Arjun packed fresh puris, sabzi, halwa, and fruits into banana leaves and cloth bags. They distributed them across Kaisarbagh and near the old mosque in Chowk, where street children gathered.
"Aj se hamara ghar ek roshni ka ghar hai," Devendra told one beggar gently.
(From today, our house is a house of light.)
Back home, guests feasted on steaming khichdi, fried potatoes, and kheer.
Evening Aarti – A Joint Family in Prayer
As dusk colored the sky with saffron and indigo, the family gathered for aarti. Diyas were placed in every window. Bharat was seated in Vandana's lap, a small flower tucked near his hand.
Devendra led the prayer.
"May he grow with the courage of Arjuna, the wisdom of Yudhishthira, the devotion of Hanuman, and the truth of Ram."
Each member offered a flower, a smile, a vow. Even Pooja whispered, "May I always be your friend before your teacher."
Final Reflections
That night, the house was quiet again. Children had gone to sleep. Plates had been washed. The courtyard was still.
In the bedroom, as the lantern flickered, Bharat lay between his parents, wide-eyed.
Ajay whispered, "Beta, I don't know what path you'll take... but I'll walk it beside you."
Vandana placed her hand on Bharat's chest. "He's not just our son. He's... our teacher."
In the shadows, Bharat watched them.
Love. That's why I returned.