When the Grandparents Came

This post is long overdue.  I can hardly believe it has been a month since we said Good bye to Avva.  We had a lovely month of grandparents- Taata, Avva and Hop.  And unfortunately since Avva was the last to leave she got the full brunt of the emotion.  I wasn't sure how we were going to pry Star off of Avva, she was crying so hard.  The girls loved having all their adoring grandparents here and the homesickness when they left was difficult to manage.  At one point I found Star completely wrapped up in one of Avva's sarees she had left here.  We compromised by letting her snip a corner and letting her make a hankie.

Even though it was hard to say good-bye we would not have traded those visits for anything.  One of my favorite memories was the 70th Birthday pooja we had for Marvel's father before I left for the States. So many family members came to wish him well and only one person put me on the spot by asking, "Do you know who I am?" This question used to throw me and I would get embarrassed but this time I simply replied, "No, please tell me who you are." Ha! Take that! Hope you feel embarrassed now! But also the truth is, I know so many more people now, so that even if I can not recall their name I at least know how they are related and I can ask a pertinent question or two.

I am mostly familiar with Avva's side of the family as we spend most of our time in Mysore and Bangalore.  So this day was special because many of the guests were from Taata's side.  And as we held it in Bangalore many of my in laws' old friends came.  Old friends who lived with them in the US in the early years and have moved back to India.  It was simply lovely to see the smiles on Taata and Avva's faces.

The girls really got into the celebration as well, both in their own way.  I wish our internet connection was fast enough to show you all the videos Star took on my phone. And Flip just did what she does best, got right in there.

The pooja began before 7 am and went past noon with one break for breakfast.  It was a long morning, but it was a great pooja.  These particular priests were incredibly enthusiastic, actually taking time to enunciate. Not typical in my limited experience.  Most priests mumble only stopping to speak clearly when they need to direct their pooja participants to do some physical act such as throw something or hold something.  And Marvel's mom said she was at first pleased with the head priest's answers when she asked a question.  He was more than happy to explain all she wanted to know and MORE. That was when she realized he might be too enthusiastic and if she wanted to feed folks on time she had to keep her curiosity to a minimum.

Again I wish I could post a video of the pooja because if you have never seen one it is fascinating. It is such a physical worship which I love.  Sometimes it gets crazy such as one point when Marvel and I were holding a strainer like item over his parents' heads.  Inside the strainer was a couple of necessary objects, one of which had to be silver.  The attendees made a line and took turns to dip leaves into holy water and shake the water through the strainer onto their heads, like a blessing.  Yes, I would love to know the backstory of that particular act, so if anyone devout Hindu blog reader out there is willing... As crazy as it looked and as tired as my hand became from holding that strainer over their hands, it filled my heart with joy to see each family or friend come up and wish their blessings on my in laws.

At the end of the pooja the priests passed out rice and flowers to all the attendees.  Even the folks who had wondered outside were beckoned in and the handfuls are shared amongst kids and late comers. We all stood holding the rice and flowers in our hands listening to the last prayers being said, ready to throw the rice and flowers onto the idols. Everyone was crowded together, shoulder to shoulder, listening and waiting.  So it was hot. Add a kid on the hip and it was super hot.  Like I said, it was long morning and I was having trouble keeping my impatience at bay. At this point Marvel leaned over to me and whispered, "I can't count the number of times I remember being a kid holding rice and flowers in my sweaty hand and praying for it all to end so I could throw my flowers, end the pooja and go eat. I am so glad our kids are having this experience."

Flip's Morning Out

It is not often we get the chance to spend time with Flip alone.  So on Saturday when Star had a creative writing workshop at school Marvel and I took Flip to a new park in the city.  Flip is quite the biker now, reminds me of her big sis, so we packed her bike in the back of our little Zen and took it along. She had a great time cruising along on the dirt path around the park.

When she became tired of biking we began exploring the old fountains which don't contain much water anymore- mostly weeds and trash, but their edges made great balance beams.  And honestly the tile on the old fountains looks better than the tile on our own Sankalp Pool.

We also came across a gazebo up on a hill.  It was perfect- in the shade and high enough to catch the breeze.  Flip immediately decided it was perfect for dancing so Marvel pulled out his phone and put on some music.  The three of us had a great time just dancing and laughing.  And then... I looked up at the houses surrounding the park.  There were folks out on most balconies looking down at us. So I did the only thing a cultural ambassador could, I waved and continued dancing.  Soon two cute kids came to join us. Vinod dresses in a polyester brown suit and Puja was still in her white school uniform happily looked almost like a little bride and groom heading towards us.  Well, western style bride and groom.  They joined in and we danced until we were tired.  We all gave a bow and a wave to our audience and kept moving around the park.

In the middle of the park is this great statue of Gandhi-ji and Salt March. Later that night at bedtime, the girls and I had a great conversation about Gandhi-ji. I loved listening to Star describe to Flip about the Salt March.

We spent a long time just standing and admiring.

And then we found more fun.  A cement slide on the way out.

This is what living is all about.  Just being together and having fun.  We are so so lucky to have this chance to live in Mysore.  Sometimes I could just pinch myself.  

Chicken Foot

There is this great alley with veggie and fruit vendors that my friend Bhanu showed us. If you can make it past the ladies shucking peas and beans and pleading for you to buy them, you are in. The produce is fresh with a ton of variety. And because you are dealing one on one and I happen to be a white lady with 2 daughters of varying skin tones they remember me. I have built somewhat of a working relationship with the vendors. But I think today I put that relationship to the test.
Flip and I visited the mango stall today. Mangoes are almost out of season so we are buying and eating like mad. We eat 3kg in 2 days. Yes, it is a little sick. As we walked up to the stall I heard a sweet little kitten mewing. I had see this kitten the time before and I was glad it was still hanging out. As I got closer though I realized what the kitten was mewing about. The mango vendor had a chicken foot in his hand. A real life, cut off chicken foot. Now people, I can barely walk past the meat section in the grocery store. I close my eyes or look away until all that flesh is out of view. I could not contain my ewwws and yucks. I tried to look the other way but movement in the air caught my attention. The man had thrown a nice arc and there was the chicken foot moving through the air and the kitten sitting on its back legs was eagerly awaiting its prize. They had done this before.
The man laughed at my wrinkle up faced and asked,"ennu beku?" and proceeded to rinse his hands with some water. I still wanted my mangoes but I definitely did not want his chicken foot hand all over my fruit. So I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled out hand sanitizer and asked, "hakuthira?" and before he could respond I squirted an extra large squeeze right into his palm and gestured for him to rub vigorously. He spent most of his time smelling it.
But the good news is he still sold me my 3kgs. Hoping he doesn't cut me and my weirdness off.

Treat of the Day

When we lived in Japan we lived in a place called Ishikawa-ken.  If you look at a map there is a peninsula on the Korea side that sticks out of the main island of Japan.  We lived more than half-way up that peninsula. It took us a little over an hour to drive to the big city.  If we were picking folks up as we made our way down the peninsula, which was usually the case, it took us about 2 hours.  We didn't travel into Kanazawa City very often, but when we did I always had dreams of the treats that lay in store for me.
When I lived in America, I didn't realize how spoiled we are.  Drive through any town and you will see the diversity of food which represents our population.  Come to a big city and shop at a multitude of ethnic grocery stores.  Going to Japan and eating Japanese food day in and day out was a shocker for me.  So heading into Kanazawa City always included a meal at the 1 Indian restaurant. By this time in our relationship, I no longer thought Indian food was "mushy, like baby food".  Yes, I said that once upon a time.  By this time, I had made 2 trips to India and I had a ring on my finger proving I was willing to proceed with this Indian-American man for real.  The first time we walked into the restaurant the Indian cooks went nuts when they saw another Indian. They came running out of the kitchen yelling in Hindi in what almost looked either like a Bollywood dance scene or a street fight.  It all ended very quietly when Marvel couldn't speak Hindi and they couldn't speak Kannada, but every time after that when we came Marvel and the cooks exchanged greetings and big smiles.
The food was of course North Indian and they had a tandoor to make naans and all kinds of breads.  But the other interesting part was they had to cater the Indian dishes to the Japanese palette, which is almost zero spice.  This must have tortured the cooks and I am sure they were just waiting for the doors to close so they could throw some heat into the pan and cook Indian food how it was meant to be prepared.  But to me, it didn't matter.  The curries were 800 yen and even though I had tried I could not manage to eat more than one at a time.  That meant I had to make a choice until the next time we came to the big city.

Mysore has become a big hub for yoga students. There are many ashrams and folks come from all over the world to study here. With the major increase of white folks in Mysore I have noticed one big difference- the auto rickshaw meters.  They are all broken and I must haggle my fare.  No matter what anyone says, I blame the yoga students. They were too generous with their tips, they threw their rupees around too freely, and now I am suffering.  Oh I am not saying, 10 years ago, when I came on holiday, spending American dollars and Japanese yen that I was not generous with my tips, but there was only one of me so I was like a lucky penny you find on the street.  Now those American dollars, Euros and Yen are everywhere and finding one is more like finding a piece of candy in a piñata.

But the let's not all be down on the yoga students after all I am one of them now with my new found love of yoga. And they have done some good for Mysore. Without them, we wouldn't have Namaste the Gourmet Shop on Kalidasa.  I finally went in the other day and not since Japan when we were cruising into Kanazawa City had my heart done little flip-flops like that- tortilla chips, Pepperidge Farm cookies, Skittles, rice paper wrappers, Japanese snacks, and Walker's Shortbread. They were of course all pricey. Skittles are 85 rupees, that is over $2 for a small bag.  So I just picked the bag up and held it gently in my hand.  But I did splurge and buy tortilla chips.

Oh, it is the little treats like this that make me smile.

Is yoga still cool? I am a little late to the game but I am ready to play now

When a friend initially asked me to join I thought, "No way, I can't take yoga and all that hokey breathing stuff they do. Not to mention I can never make my mind slow down enough to 'enjoy the pain'. And seriously? 5.45 am yoga, you gotta be kidding me." But I joined. And 3 weeks later, today, when my alarm went off at 5.35am I didn't want to but I drug myself out of bed and into suitable attire. I ate my baby banana, brushed my teeth, took my water bottle, snuck out the door and shuffled off to yoga in the club house.
I still find the breathing hilarious but luckily for me the rest of the class is Indian and they have grown up with yoga in their blood. So if I look around the room I find everyone seriously engaged in the breathing. Not one giggle no matter how the enormous sound, the snot arriving, or the chests shaking. That tremendously helps me to put away my inner juvenile and get back to focusing. Every morning I walk away from class promising to do at least one sun namaskar over the weekend (I never do). Never thought I would say it but I like yoga.

Why India? (a bit delayed in posting, sorry!)

When we first moved in, Gayatri was swinging along side a little girl. This little girl, whose name I later learned is Savi, looked at me directly in the eye and announced.

"I have a secret."

"Wow, a secret! Secrets can be fun. Are you going to tell me your secret?"

"Yes. My mom has a baby in her tummy."

On May 10th Savi became a big sister to a baby brother and I was called over by their mom, Sowmya, for a small function to meet this beautiful baby boy. Now I must admit I spent a good 7 years offering excellent lip service to new mothers in my life. The truth was as cute and adorable all those babies were, I honestly wanted nothing to do with them. I had enough small human beings pulling on me, sucking from me, climbing on me, demanding from me, loving on me, drooling on me, hugging on me, and slobbering kisses all over me. I had no desire to hold anyone else's small being until about a year ago, when Gayatri finally let me out of her baby grip and granted me a bit of freedom. So a couple of days ago when I saw my chance I quickly grabbed tiny Samarth ripped off his blanket and admired his sweet little feet. I cooed at him and welcomed him wholeheartedly into this world. And when it came time for the arthi, I made sure I had a front row seat to watch my friend.

I was not the only one who wanted a front row seat. Savi and her friend, Sia, secured front row seats and then spent there rest of the time being scolded by their parents to step back when they got in the way and called to come closer when they drifted too far away. Sia reminds me so much of Shalini a couple of years ago. Whenever I join the group at the play area, Sia is the first to welcome me with a giant, "Hello Auntie!" and a big wave. And Sia never misses a chance to dress up. She is always dressed in the fanciest of Indian clothes or the prettiest of western outfits. So you can be sure Sia did not disappoint this time. She had on a beautiful langa and bangles stacked up her wrists. As I listened to a mother and daughter sing a lullaby about Baby Krisha I noticed Sia watching the singer. She, too, was mesmerized by this beautiful song and she did just what Shalini would have done. She kept her eyes fixed on the singer, opened her mouth, bobbled her head and tried to sing along. Then Sia stood watching as the ladies of the house performed the arthi, blessing the new mom and baby.

There have been many times that I have been questioned by Indians asking why we want to bring our family here to live. These Indians are usually the ones that have been abroad and are quick to point out all the things that are "right" in other countries and all the things that are "wrong" in India. I can't deny there are many things dysfunctional and frustrating about India- remember my re-entry post? But there is so much that is right about India. Things one can't do justice in a simple description. But if I could capture that look in Sia's eye as she watched the women. Or if I could explain the strong beauty in the scene of Sowmya with her hand over her newborn's face as her mother in law sprinkled rice over both of them. Perhaps then, I would not get these questions. India is such a beautiful place- steeped in ritual, love, tradition, and warmth. I am lucky I am able to live in this country and to return year after year. I am able to make friends and have family who include me and my children and welcome us into their homes. This is why we choose to insist to our kids that they are Indian. We try to show them ways to be proud of their heritage. And we try to instill in them a sense of belonging in this country, so they can gently move between the two countries.

The Water Bottle Dance

We never leave the house without a bottle of water. I don't think anyone here does. We do our best to drink only filtered water because I can't stand the thought of all those plastic bottles going into the trash. Plus the last time I bought bottled water the person jacked the price up even though the price was clearly printed on the bottle. I am just too stubborn to dole out 3 rupees more than anyone else.

So when we packed up to come here back in December we all had water bottles. Rohit and I had those convienent roll up ones. The girls had bite valve ones we had picked up from REI for soccer season. So why did I have to mediate a 15 minute conversation regarding who takes which water bottle to school? Follow along.

The bite valves get moldy so Avva sends BPA free replacements for both girls. Gayatri happily takes her pink Nalgene. Shalini takes her pop-top LL Bean. We go to Bangalore and stay in a hotel. They have small bottles of water in the room. Shalini leaves her water bottle at someone's house so she reuses the bottled water bottle. Gayatri complains and wants one, too. Somehow we only have one. Everyday Gayatri cries for it. Everyday I pack her Nalgene. One roll up gets moldy so into the trash it goes. We go to Japan and take a roll up and the Nalgene. We collect several bottled water bottles and bring them home. We all think it is cool the bottles have Japanese writing on them. Shalini claims one. Gayatri claims another. They lose them. We discover we left our roll up bottle in Japan. I use the pink Nalgene. Rohit continually leaves home without a bottle of water and suffers all day. Avva and Taata come. The LL Bean bottle is returned to us. They buy Shalini a roll up Angry Birds bottle. I saw it once and now she has no idea where she put it. I come back from my flight on Luftansa with a miniature bottled water bottle. Gayatri loves it for 2 days. Avva takes the girls school shopping. Gayatri gets a Thomas the Tank Engine bottle. Loves it for a week. Loves it so much she breaks the top. Shalini picks an extra large bottle then discovers she can't get the top off herself. Shalini returns to the LL Bean bottle. Rohit claims the big bottle that can't be opened in hopes that he can remember to take water with him. Gayatri is back to the Luftansa bottle. Gayatri cries when Rohit takes the big bottle with him to Hydrabad for 2 days. Shalini complains the spout on the LL Bean bottle is rough and it hurts her mouth. She requests the Nalgene. Gayatri screams, "No!" and refuses to share. Shalini reclaims the big bottle. Rohit takes the LL Bean bottle. Gayatri is stuck with the Luftansa bottle until the day she actually drinks the water and proves she needs a bigger bottle. Perhaps I should take the Nalgene now that no one is looking?

MJ

Do I really take time to write an eulogy about my cat? Do any of you want to read 5 paragraphs sopping about how I rescued her from a group of boys who put her in a bag and forced her to inhale marijuana smoke? I kept her name regardless because with her sweet little face and petite paws she looked like a cute Mary Jane. You might get a kick out of the fact that I put her on a diet making her run up and down the stairs in our condo for 20 measly pieces of food? It was a vet approved diet and she was mighty happy and playful after her belly no long drug the ground. Santa always brought her a can of wet food for her stocking to make up for it. My family members could all tell you a tale or two about the times they hosted MJ while Rohit and I globetrotted. Rohit still claims he wants to write a song or a book or perhaps just a title called "A Man and his Cat" about how the 2 of them bought a Subaru and camped their way back east from Arizona, praying they were not going to be coyote feed. Maybe MJ is the only cat to have seen the sunset over the Grand Canyon?

Or we could tell you the other side. How Janie refused to be picked up by anyone. How Shalini had to feed her for 3 months before she would even let her pass on the stairs without hissing. She never, ever bit but she loved to make some noise. How I had to stuff the closet full of litter boxes like a Tetris game because MJ had bad aim and hung her bum outside of the box. How every time we went out of town I had to make a spreadsheet to figure out which neighbor I had been asked the least to care for her.

I miss Mary Jane. She was my cat. I loved her and I was willing to love her good stuff and bad. The girls were tired of her. They want a pet they can love on and that will love them back. I understand that and I want that for them as well. MJ was 17 years old. Her time was coming and I am ok with that. When I said good bye to her back in December I partially knew it might be the BIG good bye and I partially hoped for that even though I feel awful about that now. It was one thing to receive an email telling me my cat is dying but it was entirely a different emotional realm to make a decision to say Yes, put her to sleep and not be able to take her myself. I am so sorry for that.

Elephant Camp

When my dad told me he was coming to India I was so excited to shock and surprise him. Sure this guy took his whole family to live in the Philippines in the 70's but that was 30 years ago and we lived on a military base. I have seen those military folks-eating their American snacks from the commissary, living in western style houses and getting by with English the whole time. That's not "real" international living.(says the lady who has ranch dressing and Kraft Mac n cheese in her cupboard and lives in her gated community) I had dreams of putting my dad in the front seat of the car and seeing the panic on his face as scooters and large buses came barreling at us. I wanted to see him turn up his nose at the open ditches and cow patties that mark the boundaries of our roads. I was sorely disappointed. My dad, without an ounce of fear in his voice, kept telling our driver, "You are a really good driver. Really!" Whenever he saw something, like a family of pigs crossing the street, which I was sure was going to shock him all he would say was, "Well look at that." Perhaps I coddled him too much. Perhaps we should have skipped the 5 star hotel in Bangalore. We should have taken the train down instead of hiring a car. I should have made him go to the grocery store alone in an auto. Maybe that would have done it.

Even if I did not manage to shock him, we did manage to impress him. Since he was only here for a little over a week, we took him on a 2 day trip to Coorg. Again we spoiled him with a super fancy resort and all you can eat buffets every meal (a.k.a. gave him a chance to eat some meat). Coorg is super lush, beautiful area with lots of wildlife and is known for growing coffee. It was perfect to be right in the middle of the hillsides and shaded by loads of trees while the summer sun beat down.

The real highlight of our trip was visiting an elephant camp. We paid our 50 rupees a head to be shuttle across in super duper inflated white water rafts.  Seriously, I am not sure I had ever touched a raft that taunt. I lived in fear it was going to pop just like a balloon as we all got in.

When we arrived on the other side of the river- 2 minutes perhaps, we vowed next time we came we would walk across and save our 50 rupees. Then, we saw the most amazing thing on the beach.  There was an elephant on its side lying in the water.  The elephant keeper had a brush and was scrubbing the animal all over. There were visitors standing in the water all around splashing water on the elephant.  We had come completely unprepared for this experience.  My mother in law and I were in long pants.  Although I usually carry an extra set of clothes for the girls, today I had none. So we did the best we could. We hiked up our pants and just decided to get wet.

Star next to the elephant's head.  The elephant kept his trunk just out of the water so it could breathe.  Every once in a while it gave us all a great shock by spraying air and blowing water all over us.

Marvel and Flip helping to bathe the elephant.

After a while more elephants were brought down to the riverside and this elephant was urged to get up.  It did and then it just flopped right back down into the water like it just couldn't be bothered to move, so everyone kept on splashing water over its back.  We heard news of a baby elephant so we made our way up the hill to check it out.  We found 2 sweet little calves. Flip immediately found the mommas due to their hanging breasts and full mammary glands. I had a secret little giggle as she pointed and shouted, "Look at that momma's boobies!" and the Indians around me moved away from us.  Now, I was happy to watch these beautiful animals but my kids were not. After the calf did not come over to drink from its mother's breast, like Flip wanted she went off in search of a good stick to dig in the dirt.

We did convince our kids to follow the babies down to the water to watch them bathe.  It was here that I got a true lesson in nature.  While my girls were waist deep in the river an adult elephant turned its back to us all and dropped a huge earthy load in the water followed by a massive urine stream.  Enough of that!  We opted to go a bit up stream and play in the water falling over the rocks.

The next stop was to feed the elephants.  What do elephants in captivity eat here you might wonder? Ragi mixed with jaggery and mashed into large balls.  They also eat, right out of your hands, cucumbers and watermelon slices.  The best part for me was watching folks buy a couple cucumber for themselves to munch on as well as a couple for the elephants.  One for me, one for you, one for me, one for you!  Ok, it didn't really go down that way but it would have in an Disney movie.  

We topped off our experience with an elephant ride for the girls and Marvel and then headed back across the river.  After watching the elephant poop, I took back my decision to boycott the 50 rupee ride.  

America Part 2- Happily Ever After

If it weren't for my angelic sister-in-law I might have perished in that house by myself.  She brought a supply of Gatorade, Immodium, and yogurt to get me going on the road to recovery.  She also brought my niece and nephew who kept a self-imposed safe distance and I honestly believe if the opportunity presented itself, they would have picked up a stick and poked me with it.

I had come to the US to attend a wedding, and I was determined to get there. So one day later than I intended, I donned some sweats and hit the road to Portsmouth, VA for the weekend.

I arrived just in time to join the other bridesmaids at the nail salon. As I walked in, Rebecca introduced me as her friend who flew in from India.  After brief hellos, the conversation quickly turned to, "How are you feeling?" And this is how I would be known for the rest of the weekend, the friend from India with diarrhea. Good thing I have a decent amount of confidence and can make a good potty joke.

But honestly, being the one who flew in from India is pretty exciting.  I know most folks don't get the chance to travel as much as I do and people are generally very flattering with all their attention and questions.  I am not going to lie, it is fun to be in the spotlight and play the exotic traveler.  Well, that is until Rebecca's cousin arrived.  Her name is Stephanie and she is a real India traveler.  She is Tibetan settlements and India-based Women Entrepreneurs conferences.  I am toilet bowl cleaner and potatoes.  She is thinking of starting a school in India.  I am trying to get my kids to school on time. I asked her where she has been and she begins rattling off a dozen names of cities in the north that I am certain sound familiar, but my geographically challenged brain can't place.  She asks where I have been and I sound feeble when I say, "We went to the north a couple of times, but really we just stay close to home with the kids." Note to self- travel more, read more signs at important places and try to retain that knowledge, don't skip the hard articles in the newspaper, study Kannada and attempt to do something fantastic in the next 2 months. It is one thing to think you are exciting, but it is quite another to actually excite other people.

And the wedding... the wedding was perfect.  Rebecca and Rodney were smiling from ear to ear, when they weren't crying tears of joy.  Depsite all the belly troubles and hours of flying, I was so glad and so proud to be there by her side.  My speech went well.  I managed to suck back my tears and get my words out just like I intended. Someone actually asked me if I gave speeches professionally.  I am still not sure what that means.  Like folks would hire me to come in and give speeches at weddings? Mmm, perhaps.