The hospital room was dim and quiet. The only light came from a small lamp near the wall. Krithika lay fast asleep on the bed, exhausted from the delivery.
Siddanth sat in the comfortable armchair near the window. The transparent hospital crib rested right next to his knees. He looked down through the plastic sides at the newborn boy and girl wrapped in soft white blankets, sleeping soundly.
He pulled his phone from his pocket with the screen brightness turned all the way down. Opening the messaging application, he navigated to the private group chat with his closest teammates from the Indian cricket squad.
He kept the message very simple, having not told them the specific details beforehand.
Siddanth: Blessed with a baby boy and a baby girl this evening. Everyone is healthy and resting.
He hit send. The response came quickly. Even though it was late at night, the delivery notifications turned into read receipts instantly, and the group chat exploded with incoming messages.
Virat: A BOY AND A GIRL?! You had twins?! Why didn't you tell us you were having twins! Congratulations to both of you!
Shikhar: Double trouble! The house is going to be so loud now! Lots of love to Krithika and the kids!
Rohit: Twins. That explains why you were so protective lately. Congratulations Sid. Let us know if you need anything at all.
Mahi bhai: Wonderful news, Sid. A very happy moment for the family. Take care of them. Get some sleep tonight.
Siddanth smiled while reading the messages, typed a quick reply thanking them, put the phone on silent mode, and placed it on the small table.
Just as he set the phone down, the heavy wooden door of the suite slowly pushed open. Sameer, Arjun, and Feroz peeked their heads into the room. They had driven straight to the hospital the moment Siddanth called them earlier that evening. Sameer held a massive basket of different types of fruits, and Feroz carried a bread baskets freshly made.
They tiptoed inside, trying not to make a single sound.
Siddanth stood up from his chair and raised his hand, halting them right near the door. "Did you wash your hands outside?" he whispered sternly, pointing a finger at them.
"Yes, we washed them," Sameer whispered back, holding the fruits up like a shield. "We used the sanitizer from the dispenser in the hallway."
Siddanth did not look convinced. He walked over to the small table near the sink, picked up a large bottle of hospital-grade hand sanitizer, and returned to his friends. "Do it again," he ordered, pumping a generous, overflowing amount of the clear liquid directly into Sameer's open palm. He then pumped the gel into Arjun and Feroz's hands. "Rub it properly. Between the fingers and on the back of the hands. Make sure it dries completely before you take another step."
Sameer stood there, aggressively rubbing his hands together in the dim light. "Sid, I rubbed it outside. My hands are practically sterile. I could perform surgery right now."
"Rub it clearly, Sameer," Siddanth insisted, watching his hands. "Newborns have zero immunity. I am not taking risks with outside germs."
From the hospital bed, a soft rustle sounded. Krithika had woken up and opened her eyes, watching her husband force his three billionaire friends to scrub their hands like errant schoolchildren.
Anjali, who was resting on the guest sofa on the other side of the room, sat up and rubbed her eyes.
Krithika covered her mouth, letting out a soft, tired laugh.
Anjali giggled from the sofa. "He made the nurse do it twice earlier," Krithika whispered to the friends. "Just listen to him. He has turned into the security guard of the room."
Arjun and Feroz chuckled quietly, holding their clean hands up in surrender. Siddanth finally nodded, satisfied with their hygiene, and let them approach the crib. The three friends looked down at the sleeping twins, their expressions softening with awe. They stayed for ten minutes, offering quiet congratulations to Krithika, before leaving the family to rest.
For the next four days, Siddanth did not leave the hospital suite. He refused to go home and made the comfortable guest sofa his bed, though he barely used it. His mother, Sesikala, brought fresh clothes from the farmhouse every morning. He showered in the attached bathroom and stayed entirely focused on Krithika and the twins.
His body handled the demands of new fatherhood effortlessly. His low need for sleep allowed him to function perfectly on few hours of rest.
When the babies woke up crying at two in the morning, Siddanth was out of his chair before Krithika could even open her eyes. He gently lifted the crying baby boy, holding him securely against his chest while supporting the fragile neck, and patted his back until the crying stopped. If the baby girl woke up a few minutes later, he managed both—learning how to support the boy in his left arm and cradle the girl in his right.
But his care was not limited to the babies. Krithika's body was incredibly sore and weak from carrying and delivering twins, her abdominal muscles stretched.
Every morning, Siddanth helped her sit up on the edge of the hospital bed. He took a long, soft cotton cloth that his mother had provided. "Lift your arms slightly," he instructed softly.
Krithika raised her arms. Siddanth wrapped the cotton cloth firmly around her stomach and lower back, pulling it tight but not uncomfortable, then tied a secure knot at the side.
This belly binding supported her weakened core muscles and eased the heavy ache in her back.
Krithika murmured, resting her hands on the tight cloth. "It feels much better with the support."
"You need to walk a little bit to keep the blood flowing," Siddanth told her.
He held her right hand and wrapped his left arm securely around her waist, helping her stand up slowly. They took very slow, small steps together. But Siddanth drew a strict boundary. "We stop at the door," he stated as they reached the edge of the suite.
"I can walk in the hallway," Krithika suggested.
"No," Siddanth refused immediately. "The hallway has outside air and hospital staff. You are not leaving this room until discharge date."
Krithika smiled and leaned against him, too tired to argue, appreciating his protectiveness. He guided her back and forth across the suite, making sure she did not strain herself.
On the morning of March 7th, the senior doctor came into the room. "She is recovering very well," the doctor announced, checking the charts. "The babies are fed properly and gained some weight. You can take them home today."
The packing was done quickly. Driver drove the car to the underground parking area of the hospital.
Siddanth carried the babies in two small, padded carrying baskets. Krithika walked slowly beside him, supported by her mother. They settled comfortably into the spacious, plush back seat of the Phantom.
Driver drove slowly, navigating the roads with utmost care and avoiding every single pothole on the route to Shamshabad.
When they arrived at the farmhouse, the estate workers had decorated the front porch. Strings of fresh, green mango leaves hung above the main double doors to signify auspicious beginnings.
Siddanth carried the baskets inside. The house felt different now—warm and full. He set the baskets down gently in the ground-floor bedroom. Krithika sat on the bed with a tired sigh.
For the next few days, Siddanth dedicated himself entirely to the routine of fatherhood. He learned the different sounds of their cries, that the boy liked to be rocked side-to-side while the girl preferred to rest her head right near his collarbone. He changed the tiny diapers, gently cleaned their umbilical cord stumps with warm water, and handed them to Krithika for feeding.
Days turned into nights and nights turned into days.
Then came March 13th, the eleventh day since the birth. In Telangana tradition, the eleventh day holds a very specific significance. It is the day of the Purudu—the day of purification and quiet celebration that marks the end of the initial, strict confinement period for the mother and the newborns.
The morning began very early. The household staff cleaned the entire farmhouse thoroughly. Fresh turmeric water was sprinkled near the doorways to purify the space.
Sesikala and Suma took charge of the main rituals. They prepared a special bath for Krithika. The water was heated over a stove and infused with fresh neem leaves and turmeric powder. This traditional bath was meant to heal the body, soothe the tired muscles, and ward off infections.
After her bath, Krithika dressed in a fresh, bright yellow cotton saree. She walked into the living room, feeling much lighter and more energetic than she had in weeks. The cloth binding around her stomach gave her the stability to walk freely.
The babies were also given a very gentle sponge bath with warm water.
Suma brought a small silver plate containing a specific item and walked over to the bed where the babies were resting. She held two thin, black cotton threads. "Hold their hands gently," Suma instructed Siddanth.
Siddanth held the tiny hands of the baby boy. Suma carefully tied the black thread around the baby's right wrist and then a slightly thicker black thread around his waist. She repeated the process for the baby girl.
"This is the dishti thadu," Suma explained, patting the babies gently. "It protects them from the evil eye. Now that they are eleven days old, people will start visiting to see them. This thread keeps them safe."
Vikram Deva and Subba Rao sat on the sofas, watching the process with proud smiles. Later, both sets of grandparents presented gifts. Vikram Deva and Sesikala gave small gold chains and protective black-threaded waist bands for the twins. Subba Rao and Suma offered delicate silver kadas and soft new clothes.
For the Purudu, there was no massive, expensive wooden cradle. Tradition dictated a much simpler approach for the first swing. Sesikala took a soft, clean cotton saree and tied the two ends firmly to hooks in the hallway, creating a makeshift, comfortable cloth hammock. She placed a soft pillow inside the cloth.
"Bring them here," Sesikala called out.
Siddanth carried the twins and placed them carefully side-by-side inside the soft cloth hammock. Krithika stood on one side of the cloth, and Siddanth stood on the other. Together, they pushed the cloth gently, swinging the babies for the very first time. The smooth, rocking motion instantly quieted the twins. They fell asleep together in the cloth.
The mothers sang a few quiet, folk songs in the hallway. A simple, delicious feast of rice and mild curries was served for the family. The Purudu was a quiet, intimate affair, marking the official welcoming of the children into the household routine.
Following the Purudu, life at the farmhouse settled into a new, steady rhythm. Siddanth continued to manage the night shifts. His alertness gave Krithika the chance to recover her strength. She slept peacefully through the night, knowing her husband was watching over the crib.
The days passed quickly. The babies grew more alert and started opening their eyes wider, taking in the light and the shapes around them.
Soon, March 23rd arrived—the twenty-first day since the birth and the day of the Namakaranam, the naming ceremony.
Unlike the quiet Purudu, the Namakaranam was a grand family event. The relatives from both sides arrived at the farmhouse early in the morning. The living room was completely transformed with strings of fresh jasmine and bright orange marigolds hanging from the walls and the ceiling beams. The scent of the flowers filled the entire house.
Sameer, Arjun, and Feroz arrived early, dressed in neat kurtas, chatting with the uncles. A quiet, professional photographer moved around the edges of the room, snapping candid pictures of the arriving guests. The friends had brought soft baby clothes, stuffed toys, and practical bedding sets for the twins.
In the center of the living room rested the main attraction: two magnificent, handcrafted wooden cradles placed side-by-side. Siddanth had asked the artisans from Nirmal to build them. The dark wood was polished until it shined, intricately carved with traditional motifs of lotus flowers and vines. Soft, silk cushions lined the inside of both cradles.
The relatives gathered around the living room, talking loudly and admiring the decorations. Anjali stood near the cradles, taking pictures with her phone. She wore a bright pink lehenga and looked incredibly excited.
Siddanth walked down to the hall wearing a traditional, crisp white cotton kurta and a dhoti with a thin gold border. He looked calm and happy.
A few minutes later, Krithika walked into the room in a rich, dark green Kanjeevaram silk saree with a thick gold border and her gold jewelry. She looked beautiful and completely recovered. She held the baby boy while her mother Suma walked beside her, holding the baby girl.
The family priest, Sastry garu, was already sitting on a mat near the cradles. He had arranged his brass plates, turmeric, kumkum, and mango leaves.
"Please sit," the priest instructed Siddanth and Krithika.
They sat cross-legged on the floor mats facing the priest. Krithika held both babies in her lap, supporting their heads carefully.
The ceremony began with a traditional Ganesh pooja to remove any obstacles. The priest chanted Sanskrit mantras, and Siddanth offered flowers and rice to the small brass idol. The extended family stood in a wide circle around them, watching the process quietly.
After the initial prayers, the priest brought forward a large, flat silver tray, poured uncooked white rice onto it, and spread it out into a smooth, even layer. He placed the silver tray directly in front of Siddanth.
"The parents will now write the names of the children on the rice," the priest announced to the room. "This action seeks the blessings of the goddess of learning."
The priest handed Siddanth a small, solid gold ring. Siddanth took the gold ring and looked at Krithika. They shared a warm, knowing smile, having spent many quiet nights in the bedroom finalizing their decision.
Siddanth held the gold ring between his fingers, reached over the silver tray, and pressed the edge of the ring into the smooth layer of rice. Moving his hand deliberately, he wrote the first letter in the Telugu script, finished the first name, smoothed out the rice on the other side of the tray, and wrote the second name.
The family members leaned forward, trying to read the letters etched in the grain.
"Now," the priest instructed softly. "You must whisper the names into their ears three times."
Siddanth set the gold ring down. He shifted his posture, moving closer to Krithika's lap, and leaned his head down, bringing his face right next to the baby boy. He cupped his hand gently around the baby's tiny right ear to block out the noise of the room.
"Rishi," Siddanth whispered softly. He waited a second. "Rishi." "Rishi," he whispered the third time.
He lifted his head, then moved toward the baby girl resting on Krithika's other arm and cupped his hand over her tiny ear. "Aadhya," he whispered very gently. "Aadhya." "Aadhya," he whispered the final time.
Siddanth sat back up and nodded at the priest.
The priest turned to the gathered family and raised his voice so everyone in the large living room could hear. "The boy is named Rishi! The girl is named Aadhya!"
The entire living room broke into loud, joyous applause. The relatives clapped their hands, smiling at the chosen names.
Standing near the edge of the circle, Anjali suddenly gasped. Her eyes widened in shock and her hands flew up to cover her mouth. She remembered the conversation in the hospital room perfectly. When Siddanth had asked her what she had in mind, she told them Tejaswini, Sanvi, Rudra, and Rishi.
They had actually listened to her. They picked her name.
Anjali did not care about the formal ceremony ongoing on the floor. She pushed past her aunts and walked directly to the center of the mat, dropping to her knees right next to Krithika. She threw her arms around her older sister, hugging her tightly from the side. "You picked my name," Anjali whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Akka."
Krithika laughed softly, hugging her sister back with her free arm. "It is a good name, Anju. We loved it."
Siddanth smiled at his sister-in-law. "You are officially responsible for him now, Anjali. If he causes trouble, we are blaming you."
Anjali wiped her eyes and grinned widely. "I accept the responsibility."
The priest cleared his throat gently, bringing the attention back to the rituals. "It is time for the cradle ceremony," he declared.
Krithika handed Rishi to Siddanth and held Aadhya. They stood up from the floor mats and walked over to the beautifully decorated wooden cradles. This part of the ritual was reserved entirely for the women of the household. Siddanth took a step back, standing next to his father and father-in-law.
Sesikala and Suma took charge. Suma stood on one side of the first cradle while Sesikala stood on the opposite side. Krithika handed baby Rishi to her mother.
Suma held the baby securely, leaned over the cradle, and passed him across the empty space to Sesikala. Sesikala took the baby, bent down, and passed him underneath the cradle, handing him back to Suma. They repeated this specific motion three times—over the cradle and under the cradle. This action signifies the passing of the child through the protective hands of the family and confusing any evil spirits.
After the third pass, Sesikala gently laid Rishi down onto the soft silk cushions inside his wooden cradle. They moved to the second cradle and repeated the exact same process with baby Aadhya. Suma passed her over the wood, Sesikala passed her under. On the third pass, Suma laid Aadhya down onto the silk cushions of her own cradle.
The twins rested comfortably, side-by-side in their individual structures. The older aunts from the family stepped forward, gathered around the wooden structures, and began to gently push the cradles back and forth. As the wood swayed smoothly, the women started singing lullabies, known as Jola paatalu. Their voices blended together in a soothing, melodic rhythm that filled the living room.
The babies, comforted by the gentle rocking and the soft singing, fell asleep quickly. The older aunts turned around, smiling broadly. Siddanth's Peddamma looked at him standing near the back. "After the babies come, you won't get this much attention anymore, Siddu," she teased him warmly. "Everyone will only look at them."
The relatives laughed at the lighthearted teasing. Siddanth just offered a small, knowing smile. He did not mind the loss of attention.
With the formal part of the Namakaranam concluded, the atmosphere shifted into a loud, happy family gathering. The relatives lined up to place small gifts and envelopes of money near the foot of the cradles, offering their personal blessings. "May they bring endless happiness," one aunt said. "May your home always be filled with laughter," another added, gently touching Krithika's shoulder.
Both sets of grandparents came forward with gifts. Vikram Deva and Sesikala presented small gold waist threads and delicate chains. Subba Rao and Suma gave silver eating bowls and spoons and also gold chains.
The kids ran around the house, and the adults moved toward the dining area. A massive feast was waiting for them. The kitchen staff had prepared a rich menu of pulihora, hot garelu, chicken curry, mutton fry, and bowls of sweet payasam.
As the evening approached, the guests began to leave. The relatives packed their bags, said their goodbyes, and boarded their vehicles to return to the city. Sameer, Arjun, and Feroz hugged Siddanth and left the estate.
By nightfall, the farmhouse was quiet. The loud chatter was gone. Siddanth and Krithika stood on the back patio. The cool night breeze rustled the leaves of the mango trees.
They stood close together. Krithika had her hand around his waist.
Siddanth wrapped his arm around her shoulders. They listened to the gentle sound of the glass in the quiet night. The house felt complete. The names were given, the blessings were made, and they were entirely ready for the journey ahead.