Going Back

When I was 3 years old, I started Pre-K at Court Street Academy in Portsmouth, VA. I met a friend in that class named Rebecca. We cemented our friendship by swinging on the swings and singing "Kiss on List" every day. We spent 2 years of kindergarten together before my family moved back to SC. Somehow, Rebecca and I stayed in touch. We wrote letters back and forth. Rebecca held onto one of these letters. It was typical little kid writing- big and messy. It read, "I hope we move bake soon." There were of course no plans to move back to VA, but as a little kid I didn't know that.

Once my family had a cookie jar that was shaped like a gingerbread house. My sisters and I collected all the change in the house and put it in that jar. It was for a return trip to P-town. And one magically day, we found $100 bill in the bottom of the closet. My mom let us add that to the jar, so we finally had enough money to make a road trip back. We piled blankets on the floorboard and that was where middle sister rode. My oldest sister got the backseat. I sat in the middle of the front with my parents. I remember wondering, "Why does my dad always get my feet but my mom always gets my head?" We drove the 7 hours, which seemed forever away.

We stayed with old friends. We saw our old places. My sisters even got a tour of our old home. Our home was a 3 story pink house in the historical district. It had 2 sets of stairs- one curly and one straight. It had a big tree with a rope swing in the backyard. I used to put on my Wonder Woman underoos and my buddy Mitchell used to wear his Spiderman underoos. We would swing on those ropes for hours. I am still hoping underoos will make a comeback while my kids are young.

I visited Rebecca during this visit. She didn't know I was coming. I gave her a Christmas present. She didn't have one for me. She quickly scratched someone's name off a poster with 3 puppies and added my name. I kept that poster in my room for years.

As Rebecca and I got older we continue to write letters and we started making long-distance phone calls. Her parents let us talk for as long as we liked. My parents cut me off after 30 minutes. We also started spending a week at each other's houses in the summertime. These visits were a year in between, so it would always take a couple of days to warm up to each other. About mid-week though, we would find ourselves either curled up on the couch or snuggled in bed telling stories.

We would take turns telling stories about when we were little, each time adding details. Over the years, we told those stories so many times they were no longer Rebecca's memories or my memories, but they were our memories. I can't remember which ones I actually remember and which stories I have heard so many times it is just a part of me.
Next weekend, Rebecca is getting married and I am traveling back to stand up beside her. I get to give a speech about her. I am still not sure how to sum up our friendship, make her feel how special she is to me, make people laugh and toast her new husband all in 2-minutes. I am sure the folks working out with me in the gym are tired of hearing me practice my various speeches. I get the chance to express my love for her to her. And for that opportunity I am glad.

Forced to Cook

You all know we hired a cook named Srinivas. He comes in at 9am everyday to make lunch and dinner for us. He used to come in at 8am until we were bested by a neighbor who offered him breakfast in addition to his pay if he came in early to her house. Srinivas is cheerful. He likes the children. He speaks English. And when I give him negative feedback he takes it in a way so that I do not feel so bad. When you go to someone's house in India it is a major affair. They make the most elaborate dish they can and they pile it on your plate. There always seems to be an unending pot of whatever your stomach desires. It is fabulous to be a guest in India. Well, it is fabulous to be a guest in India as long as you aren't doing it every day. If you come for a short visit from abroad family and friends soon get wind and begin calling you to their homes, which is lovely, but after a couple days of being served like a queen you also begin to feel a bit like a stuffed Christmas goose. It is always my habit in India to try to be out of the house for one meal. If you can skip a meal, cause there are 4 meals a day here, then your tummy just might not pop. So I would like to say I had this in mind when my in laws traveled nearly 24 hours and awoke in my house. They drug themselves out of bed, coerced Flip into hugs and then looked around for breakfast. I offered them freshly cut mango and homemade yogurt with granola, joking that I am still part American and I need my morning cereal. But the truth is I do not have the work ethic of the Indian woman. Most of the woman I know cook 3 meals a day from scratch. They serve everyone and eat last. But me on the other hand- if my feet hurt, I try to figure out exactly what I can make from a seated position. If I am tired, I pull out a box of Mac n Cheese. And if I just don't feel like it, I force the saddest looking leftovers upon my family. This is why I have Srinivas. So I quickly tried to correct the situation by telling my in laws Srinivas was coming soon and he can make anything they like. I unfortunately am not too versed in Southern Indian cuisine so my menu ideas are limited. I also promised them a lunch of mujjige huli, carrot paliya, puliyogare rice and chapatis. When lunch time rolled around they seemed very content with the food. And true to form, my in laws assured me anything I serve is ok and they don't expect me to make anything special or slave away in the kitchen for them. They came to see us and plenty of people will have them over for meals. Let it be known I love my in laws and I have always appreciated their acceptance of me just how I am. And so I sighed a big sigh of relief. And then we started planning all the foods they wanted Srinivas to make the next day. But the stars were not with me. Srinivas had a death in the family and was out for 2 days. I had to cook! And Mac n Cheese was not going to cut it. I did pull out left overs, but I did manage palak paneer, a couple of salads, homemade chapatis, and bindi paliya. And while it was not that good, it was not that bad either. But luckily for me and the rest of my family Srinivas came back today to make yummy dosa, 2 kinds of chutney, sambar and paliya. We can all eat again.

Re-entry is Harder than I thought

We arrived back from Japan at 11.30 3 days ago, I think. Honestly, all the days are mixed together so let's just say we arrived a couple of days ago. That feels more truthful. I never want to live more than an hour away from an airport. I hate arriving "home" and then having another 2+ hours until you actually reach "home". So after we waited the customary hour for our luggage, Star discovered our bag had fallen off the belt and was hidden from view. We grabbed it, made our way through the illegitimate taxi drivers and went to the pre-paid taxi. We loaded our SUV with our suitcases, asked the driver several times if he needed a coffee or gas, and then headed for Mysore. This drive is painful whenever you do it. In the daytime you have to contend with other cars and buses, as well as the pedestrian traffic around the towns. At night, there is less traffic but you can't see the many potholes and speed bumps that can rip you right out of your seat if you hit them at the wrong speed/angle. Plus at night one person has to remain awake to periodically engage the driver to make sure he is still awake. Luckily for me, we take traditional lines. I manage the kids in the back. Marvel engages the driver. Also, lucky for the driver because at that time I couldn't string 2 Kannada words together. We had been speaking Japanese for 2 weeks straight and that was the only foreign language I could call to my tongue. When I woke to find Flip's head resting on my head and her feet shoved in my stomach, I pried myself up to see we had arrived in Mysore. At 3 am, the roads were dark and empty and I had no feelings of "returning home". I waited, hoping that once we reached the gates of Sankalp I would feel that relief, but sadly it didn't come. It didn't come as we opened our front door and it didn't come as I fell into bed. Re-entry into India was going to be harder than I thought. Lakshmi and Srinivas came. They cooked and cleaned. It was good to see them, although with my severe lack of Kannada all I could do was mutter a few hellos. We didn't venture out of the complex all day. And in the daytime and after meeting up with friends, Sankalp did manage to feel a bit more like home. But when we finally ventured out of the complex, Flip helped me put my feelings into words. "Momma, these people are killing us." "What?" "That man (pointing to a man standing in my way). He is killing us all the time." You see I have this habit of talking to people when I am driving. "What are you doing? You are killing me, just killing me! Get out of my way." I guess Flip has picked it up. The workers at the store. They were just killing me. The moment I walked away from Flip or she walked away from me they pounced on her. I know they are just eager for interaction and their general intentions are kind, but Flip's head is buried into my leg and they are still asking her name and trying to pull her hand. The man begging for money and following me to my car. He was just killing me. After I get in my car, shut and lock the doors (not that he really would do anything) he then switches to assistant trying to guide me out of the parking spot but really he just blocks my view and forces me to crane my neck. The goats with their shitty little tails stuck in the air, walking down the middle of the road. They were just killing me. I can manage a cow, but the whole herd of goats I can not get around. Re-entry into India is going to be harder than I thought. Flip's folks arrived and we are enjoying having them here. Soon, I pack up and head to the US for a wedding. Soon, my dad will meet me in Frankfurt and we will come back to India together. There is lots to look forward to. And I know I will adjust again to find the India that I enjoy. But right now it is hard.

Book of Opposites

The first time I came to India it was from Japan. Marvel and I were still living in separate cities. We were still long distance dating. His brother was getting married. Marvel was so sure we were going to get married and be together for ever he had convinced me to use my vacation time and money to attend not one but two of his brother's wedding. We had already attended the western style wedding in Seattle and we were off to attend the Indian style wedding in Mysore. By this time we had lived in Japan for 6 months and I was quite exhausted after trying to unsuccessfully live up to the Japanese level of manners. I remember seeing the two flight attendants sitting side by side. The Japanese lady sitting up with a straight back and hands neatly placed on her lap. The Indian lady had her knees slightly parted, shoulders rounded down and head drooping. I fell in love with India on that first trip.

So now I am traveling to Japan from India after 4 months of living there. And all I can think of is if I was writing a children's book of opposites it would go something like this-
Black- White
Up- Down
India- Japan

Examples? You want examples?

I saw a man not only throw something in the trash can, but miss and go back to pick it up and try again.

Star and I both flinched when we saw a bus heading our direction. But here, despite the size and authority of the bus, the driver stops just in front of the crosswalk and allows the pedestrians to cross. And vice versa, pedestrians do not start crossing if the "walking man" indicator is blinking. If they find themselves in the middle of the crosswalk and the indicator begins blinking, they run. Yes, run, to get out of the way of the traffic.

There are beautiful sakura everywhere. And so many folks are out enjoying them. We see groups of people picnicking under the blooms, taking photos of babies playing as the petals fall and even some young punks passed out from a morning of drinking under the trees. But no where is anyone picking the blossoms. They are there for everyone to enjoy as long as the weather will hold them on the branches. I am reminded of many signs in India that impose fines for picking the lotus flowers. I would try to sum it up in one general statement that Indians live for the moment and what the moment can offer them, not considering the effect their actions might have on others. But I am only a Person of Indian origin (PIO) as designated the India government, not truly an Indian so my surface understanding might be heavily confused.

In India toilets are to be avoided at all costs. And if you must visit a toilet, you should do it quickly and not touch anything. In Japan, the toilets almost invite you to stay a while with their motivating, soft sounds of waterfalls, heated seats, built in bidets and even a gentle wind to dry you off.

But just so you don't think I am one sided, I miss India. Japan is painfully quiet. While this is fabulous at nighttime- no train whistle, no fighting dogs, no call to prayer. It can be humiliating in the daytime with 2 kids, especially when one of those kids is Flippity Floo. Every sound we make seems to bounce of the train walls and sound like roaring despite all my shhhing and reminders to talk quietly. Sitting with my friend Mayumi at lunch, I was reminded of a hurricane. She was the calm center sitting quietly and eating her lunch. My family was the outer spirals popping up and down to get napkins, water, change chairs, knocking over drinks and demanding desires.

I also miss the colors of India. Black is the color of fashion here. If someone does wear a bit of color, it is often a muted pink or brown. Or the color is toned down with black tights and black boots. I miss the cheerful look of the streets of Mysore. Who knew how fashion could effect my mood?

In Japan

Well, we made it to Japan. Hard to imagine we spent nearly $200,000 to earn enough points to book this flight, but we did. Because we booked our flight using miles we had to make a stop in Bangkok, Thailand. After 2 personal pan pizzas from Pizza Hut in Bangalore, we hopped on the plane at 11.30 pm. The flight was gloriously empty so we all got a row of 3 seats to ourselves. I passed out happily with a seat belt shoved into my back. Marvel, who can't give up a free meal, stayed up replaying the defense of his proposal meeting in his head. The girls, who take full advantage of travel, begged to watch a video on the iPad and then fell into a deep slumber drooling all over the airline pillows. 3 hours later we drug our sleepy selves around Bangkok airport eating soft pretzels and blueberry muffins until our next flight. The girls again passed out, legs entangled, Calliou playing and earphones still on. And 5 hours later, we stepped off the plane in Osaka, Japan. No matter how many times I travel, the miracle of flight still amazes me.
You know what else amazes me? You can't do anything with Indian rupees outside of India. So Marvel and I both have stacks and stacks of rupee notes but can't exchange them for yen. At least we know no one else can either so we don't worry about keeping them locked away.
Our next 24 hours was filled with treasures- stinky cheese, pea crisps, hummus, bathtubs, black out curtains, sleeping 13 hours, Japanese breakfast buffet, cherry blossoms, Japanese snacks, heated toilet seats, and most fun has been remembering Japan with my husband by my side. I am so lucky to have shared this place with him, not once, but twice.
We are now in Anjo City with our good friends Mayumi, Hiroshi and Mika. Star and Mika are playing like old times. Flip is doing her best to join in, but instead is a right pain in the ass, as most little sisters are. The only bummer is, we have all caught a terrible cold. Star was up all last night with a fever and a loose tooth. I am achy all over and washing the skin off my hands in an attempt not to get our gracious hosts ill.
But we are here, in Japan and nothing is going to dampen my spirits.

Annual Day

My Annual Day was on 29 of March,Thursday 5:00 to 6:30. An annual day is when you show your Mom and Dad what you have learned over the year. Here is a picture of my class at annual day singing "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" and "God Has a Plan for My Life."



In my dance drama I was a lion. I loved being a lion. Our dance teacher is very nice. Her name is Roma Didi. I loved when we painted our faces. My friend, Nagesh, was a gorilla. He had to paint his lips because he had no tail and no props. He couldn't eat the chips during snack. My friend, Roohee, acted very well as an elephant.

I did a play called Big Sir B and the Monster Maid. In this play, I was a narrator with my friends Anya and Roohee.



For the conclusion of our Annual Day the whole primary school sang "Heal the World". My friends, Jay and Aditya, brought out a paper mache globe that we made.



In the morning, my sister had her Annual Day. Some of the songs I knew but some I didn't. It was the whole Kindergarten's annual day. My sister's class, Pre-KG, did a song about the rainbow.

The theme for the Kindergarten Annual Day was seasons. Pre-KG was supposed to be winter but it was too hot to wear their hats and sweaters. Also, they couldn't turn on the AC because a rat had died in the ducts and it stunk. 


Now that Annual Day is finished, so is school. We are on summer holidays for 2 months. I plan to swim everyday and have lots of fun playing with my friends. Everyday we gather in someone's house to play board games. I hope you are close to summer holidays, too.

Parade of Little Girls

Today was the 9th day of Vasanta Navaratri a festival of nine days dedicated to the nine forms of Shakti (Mother Goddess) in the spring season. Little girls, 10 and under, were called from all over Sankalp to come for pujas in homes. I was told because these little girls are so pure and innocent many believe the goddess is in them. Guess they haven't seen my kids at bedtime, eh?

But we did our part. The girls dressed up in fancy Indian clothes and went off to peoples' homes. The invitations came by word of mouth. Last night on the playground two women approached me and mentioned they heard I had 2 little girls and could I bring them by their apartment. After this puja finished the girls began chatting about who else had called them for a puja. My little goddesses listened up and made sure they were included in the next round of pujas. I would love to say it was because of the delicious food they were served-fried pooris, channa and sweets. Or perhaps for the cultural experience? No, it was because at every house they received an offering of 10 rupees.






This is the 2nd puja. All the little girls eating together.