Challenges

It has been a hard week. My wife went to Delhi for a 5 day business trip and Kaia got sick with the peak being a 39.5 degree (104+ in Fahrenheit) fever. Sleep has not been in high supply. I think that you recognize your growth as a parent when your children are ill. I can remember the terror I felt when Kaia had his first abnormal temperature, and how I freaked out when we first arrived in the dead of winter in Japan, had yet to register for health insurance, didn’t know of any doctors and just settling into a new home—and Kaia was really down with the flu. These were very high tension moments. Now if you flash forward to a few days ago, when the temperature spiked up and the little fireball was trembling and delirious, while here in India and his mother a thousand miles away. Now, if you would have presented me with this scenario a few years ago, it would have terrified me. My God—that high of a fever!?! In India?!? By myself?!? NO WAY! But after going through it a few times, trusting the wisdom of Dr. Sears, understanding that fevers are (in some ways) a good thing and need to be managed and not immediately eradicated, well, you begin to acquire some composure…just about enough to let your child know that they will be OK and to hide your own fear and silent prayer that everything will be fine. There were times when he was trembling that I thought maybe he had gotten malaria or some other funky infectious disease, but fortunately it looks like he’s going to be alright. He is still suffering from diarrhea, but according to our homeopathic doctor, this is a virus that is running rampant in the city right now. This little guy is really building up his immunities!

Why I Love this Time: Shirts with names “grandme shirt”, “surfer shirt”, “ant shirt”, “chickie shirt”, etc.

The Negotiation

Well, yesterday it started. The first of many more to come. It was, simply, Kaia’s first negotiation. We do not have a television here in India, but we do have a region-free portable DVD player which has come in very handy allowing up to seamlessly watch videos from the US, Japan and India. Aside from the extensive selection of pirated movies available here (which are more entertaining for their subtitles than the video camera work in the theatre), the VCD (video compact disc) market is both legal and contains a number of children’s programs (mostly from the UK’s Hit Entertainment and in British English, one more layer to further complicate his language acquisition) that would cost many times the amount to buy in overseas. For example, one Bob the Builder VCD usually has 5-6, ten minute episodes, and costs around $3.75. I think in Japan, you’d get 4 episodes and pay around $45 for the DVD—no joke. Anyway, as far as children’s programs go, Kaia can watch some shows commercial free, which is nice. As an aside, I was really bothered by the commercialization of PBS children’s programming—who do they think that they’re fooling with the not-so-subtle sponsorships in-between programs? Anyway…

Relatively speaking, Kaia does not watch many videos. While he can sit for a good hour or two, it is not something that he consistently pines for, or at least, if he does, he can be re-directed quite easily. Currently, I’d say that he watches about 45-90 minutes, once a week, which we have taken to calling ‘special video time’, and generally is late on Friday afternoon when I’m burned out from the week and need to bridge the gap until my wife comes home. He seems to understand this, but there are times when ‘special video time’ needs to rescue indiapapa.

One of these times was yesterday. With my wife currently in Delhi on business, and Joyce on vacation for the day visiting a temple, the routine was disrupted and I needed some downtime for myself. While there are other ways to do this, sparking up the video is path of least resistance—it is no wonder that so many kids spend the time they do in front of the TV. We recently bought a VCD from the Kipper series—a cute little dog with furry animal friends—and he had been anxiously awaiting his viewing time, so upon startup, he was locked in and motionless, sans the usual drool hanging from his chin. After the 45 minute video completed, I was ready to move on with him to something else and told him that the video was over. Of course, he’d have none of that and started in with his “more Kipper” mantra, which naturally was met with my, “I’m sorry Kaia, video time is over”. Now, at the same time that we bought the Kipper video, we also purchased a new Bob the Builder video. I guess that, once he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere with the Kipper angle, and he remembered that we also had Bob, why not give that a try. It was here that a lifetime of negotiation took its first step. The exchange went something like this:

Kaia: Watch Bob? Watch Bob?
Indiapapa: How did you remember that? No, Kaia. No more videos.
Kaia: Please papa…just one? Just watch one?

Now I know that the intentions are rather subtle here, but it was so funny to me that he was actually trying to bargain with me that I had to laugh. It seems like, as his language and development takes off, that there are lots of these moments where you cannot help but chuckle at the actions of your child. How did this little guy, who just a few weeks ago was saying ‘no’ to everything, now understanding the proper context for negotiation? I’m sure I’ll look back on this moment with nostalgia when he’s 13 and asking me to stay out just an hour later or 16 negotiating for the car.

Why I Love this Time: The little running posture, with the hands open, palms forward, and arms straight. Back slightly arched, and running on tip-toes.

The Club

Something that I did not expect to do when we moved here was to join an exclusive club. I had heard about the lingering vestiges of British colonialism here in Chennai, like the Madras Club, where elite gather to sip imported whisky and scoff at the imperfections of Indian life, and wanted nothing to do with it. Call me an ex-pat snob, but it has never been my interest to seek out fellow Americans when living abroad, although I would be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy those few times when I have commiserated with fellow Yanks, particularly for the tips on places to eat and shop. But the kind of scene that I imagined at an elite club, in a place like India, was not something that I wanted any part of. The punctuated inequality, the attitudes, the arrogance—for someone who grew up in a southern California community poisoned by the exclusivity of ‘gated community norms’, this was something that I have been glad to forget. That was, until we moved to our place outside of the city and discovered that there was a private club within walking distance from our home—and it had a swimming pool. I guess, there’s something about a clean body of water in this blazing climate with a toddler that shifts the mindset just a bit.

The number of outdoor activities to do with a toddler in Chennai is not large. For reasons ranging from too hot to too unsafe to too many stray dogs, it is rare when you can find something that you can enjoy, and count on. When I found the Sindur Sea Club, and that they had an outdoor playground in addition to the pool, well, it made a lot of sense to join. The fact that it was right on the beach (although no beach access due to an adjacent fisherman encampment) and largely unpretentious, made it a surprisingly easy decision, especially once Kaia got a look at the property—open with patches of grass and lots of little elephant statues to ride on and play with.

While the club is open from 8am-11pm, most of the members come in the evening time. They show English, Tamil and Hindi movies on the weekends and lots of folks come for the open-air showings and enjoy dinner at the same time. Kaia and I, however, visit in the late morning, when there is nobody, except for the Sindur staff, whom we have come to know very well. There is Satish Kumar (like our old cat!), the General Manager of the club who grew up in Kenya, Shanmugam, the pool maintenance man, who keeps a great pool, Dinesh, the bar/game room person, with the 4 inch pinky fingernail, Padham (at left with Kaia), the young Nepali, Silvi, the cleaning woman with the distinct “Kaiiiiyyyaaa”, and on and on. Because, when we visit, we are generally the only guests there, it has become a very nice place to come back to each time.

Because we visit there 1-2 times a week, I have gotten to know a lot about people and, particularly, the work culture at the Club. What people have shared with me has been very thought-provoking. Here in Chennai, people are very open and informed about salary issues—what they make, what others make, etc. I was really surprised at how everyone knows (very accurately) what everyone else is making in the Club, something that is considered a taboo subject, or the realm of whispers and speculation, in most places I’ve worked. People were quick to tell me that the General Manager made 10,000 rupees a month ($230/mo appx) or that the Pool cleaner made 2,500 ($58/mo) for their full-time (50-100 hours per week) efforts. Below is a sampling of what they told me their monthly salaries were:

General Manager (10,000 rupees/$230)
Assistant Manager (6,000/$140)
Bar/Game room supervisor (3,500/$81)
Waiters (2,500/$58)
Poolman (2,500/$58)
Cleaning people (2,000/$46)

If you consider that, on a given day, there are about 3 supervisors working (restaurant, bar/game room, exercise room), 4-6 waiters, and 6-10 cleaning folks, that would make for a total monthly expenditure of around $1,400. That’s 22 people, full-time. And you wonder why companies—not to mention large corporations--come to places like India to set up their shops? I will not broach the question of exploitation here, but just say that these are considered to be low salaries for this kind of work here. Likely, many of these folks should be getting 50-100% more than they are earning at Sindur, and true to this point, there seems to be high employee turnover. But more than focus on the issue of comparing actual dollar amounts to, say, an American salary, consider them in the context of a living wage. Yes, the General Manager’s salary is terribly low—and should be about three times the amount given how much he works, but even at that ($690/month) it would seem low by American standards. Yet if you look at the cost of living for this person and his family, which according to him is about 8,000 rupees a month—and that covers private school for his children, rent, all food, health care, and even some savings—then the picture becomes a bit more clear. At 10,000 rupees a month (put aside for the moment that he’s working hellish hours and is away from his family for too long) he can save 20% of his income and be the sole worker in his family. For as far as our salary here takes us given the cost of living, in the US (where my wife would be paid the same amount for the same work), we can hardly afford to cover all of our expenses on her salary—forget the idea of putting away any money. It is a very interesting contrast—here with the salary, we live without financial care and in the US, with the same amount, as a family of three we are a precariously close to being a part of the working poor. Simultaneously we are experiencing the life of excess as a hyper-elite and contemplating the depressing future of working hard just to stay afloat. Something is wrong here.

Why I Love this Time: “See ironing man”?

Murugan Idli Shop

banana leaf feast

Puzzles

With each day, as a parent, you have a terrific opportunity to learn so much from the subtle actions of your child. I was consistently amazed when—if I am patient and peaceful enough to let myself witness it—the transformation and development of a child serves as deep insight into our own lives. Most recently, I have discovered this to be true when watching Kaia do once of his favorite activities: puzzles.

Sometime last spring, in March or April, Kaia started in on his first puzzle challenge, a large 30 piece floor puzzle of nursery rhymes. For some months he had been doing the types of board puzzles that captures toddlers’ attention, but for some reason he decided that he was ready to tackle the interlocking kind. It was quite remarkable to see how quickly he learned to place all of the pieces and so cute to see his pride emerge upon placing the final piece. Ever since mastering this one, he has this hunger for new puzzles and can sit for well over an hour putting them all together.

After realizing that he is very much able to dump a puzzle (or 2 or 5!) out and do the entire thing himself, I have taken to sitting with him and just watching his mind work. I can’t tell you how many times he has picked up a piece that I thought was the wrong one, only for it to be correct. It is kind of an odd feeling when you’re being outsmarted by a 2 year old. Anyway, the patience that he also exhibits, scanning the available pieces and considering the options, turning each piece multiple times, is something that I’ve learned a lot from. There is this certain confidence that he has, knowing that the puzzle will eventually come together, and that at some point the challenge become easier as the pieces, literally ‘fall into place’. But, in the beginning, it is a matter of trying to put together combinations, and not losing faith and falling into frustration. As time goes on, the path to completion becomes more clear and, when that final piece is placed and the full picture comes clear, there is time for a clap and a smile, and it is on to the next one. For me this persistence is such a life lesson -the challenge to forge ahead when the answers may not be so clear. This is but one thing I’ve learned at the foot of the little puzzle prince.

Why I Love this Time: a, b, c, d, e, f, g…n, o, q, p, l, m, n, o, z…p, r, s, v, 2, v, w, x, y and z.

Back to School

After a two and one-half week break, Kaia went back to school at Kids Central today. It seems like so long ago that we first took him there and all of the anxiety that accompanied that event. Today was so smooth—no tears, no clinging, just a brief wave bye-bye and off he went. Since it was a new term, there were a few new children in the group and you could certainly tell who they were. Just as I was exiting the school, I saw a mother whom I had briefly met last week bringing in her son (born on May 20, one day before Kaia) into Kids Central for the first time. He was, predictably, wailing and wrapped tight around his mother and she looked even worse than he did. She had told me when we spoke that this would be the first time that he was going ‘to school’, so she was concerned about how it would go. From the looks of things—not well to begin with. I don’t long for those days, but it is fascinating how quickly the human condition adapts and moves forward. All of the sadness and nostalgia I felt leading up to that day, and how it really gripped me, has gone into hibernation for the time being and now it is just a regular ol’ thing to drop him off. Of course, this is just a warm up act for all of the other significant detachments—first day at ‘real’ school, when he chooses friends over papa, adolescence, off to college…

Why I Love this Time: The day before yesterday, he was walking with a cup of water to bring to me and tripped, spilling the water all over the tile floor. He was so sad, because he was so proudly bringing it for me to drink, and immediately dropped to the floor and sobbed. As I comforted him and told him that it was OK and he could get papa another cup of water, through his sobs he said, “sorry, papa”. It was one of the most touching moments of my entire life.

Sethu's Family

Sethu's Family at indiapapa bday

When do we eat the cake?

Time

Thanks to the power of nostalgia, when I reflect back on being 20 years old, the memories are still fresh and accessible. I was eagerly anticipating the release of REM’s Green and enduring the end of yet another mediocre 80-82 Halos season. Life was good as the last of summer’s brutal humidity melted into the brisk Ann Arbor autumn—which of course, meant that it was all just around the corner: U of M football, shows at the Blind Pig, wings at Spots, studying in the Law library, beers and foos, walks in the Arb, fun with a good fake ID… Life was good. I mention this because now indiapapa is closer to 50 than 20 and, if there is one thing I have learned, it is that these next 15 years are going to roar by even quicker than I can remember the name of the great deli we used to eat at..

Anyway, while I don’t think that I can consciously become more aware of ‘taking advantage’ of the moment, the reminder of time’s march just reinforces my thanks for this time with Kaia. For you, dear readers, this may seem a bit overly sentimental and somewhat shallow in analysis, but there are certain times where I lack the ability (or am perhaps just lazy!) to fully articulate what it is that I am experiencing. Today I put up a photo from Kaia’s birth on my computer desktop—I’m posting it here as well—just to remind me that this little critter is going to be huge before I can even contemplate what happened. I had never before experienced the emotion of when joy and sadness tie a knot around a moment that you know is precious. Since he’s come into my life it seems like they happen on a regular basis. Hopefully by the time I’m 50, and he’s 17, we can look back on this entry and experience the same joyful walk down nostalgia’s lane.

Oh, Zingerman’s! And time marches on....

Why I Love this Time: “big boy pants”

Safety First

Always wear a helmet

Kolam

One of the more beautiful traditions in Tamil Nadu is the kolam, which refers to the decorative artwork drawn in front of homes and deities in puja rooms. The intricate symmetric designs and mandalas are a part of a long cultural tradition of south Indian families and are passed down from women to girls. They are considered to be a sort of painted prayer and often designs carry special meaning from family to family. Every morning you can see women drawing exquisite kolams in front of their homes and, by afternoon, they have all but disappeared due to wind, rain or human feet. This, of course, is part of what makes them so special.

The base is usually finely ground rice flour or chalk and can be simply white or with numerous colors. Today, Joyce decided to do a kolam in front of our home and, with the help of Kaia and Sekar, created a masterpiece. Usually, it is on Friday that she draws a kolam in her own home, so this was an appropriate day to do it at our place. Kaia showed amazing restraint in not jumping in an messing it all up (as he’s into these days with puzzles and blocks), and was quite deft at tip-toeing around the perimeter. I just crossed my fingers that he wouldn’t slip and fall right in the center.

It is hard to know how long it will last (since we’re in a flat, there is not concern about wind or rain), but with the steady stream of visitors, I’d give it about 2 days. It is great to know, however, that we’ll be making another one soon.

Why I Love this Time: His love for puzzles and the ritual of putting in the last piece together.

Kaia's Kolam

The Kolam 

Can I mess this up? 

Can I Help? 

Flowers 

The Finished Kolam 

Ganesh Chaturthi

Of the hundreds of gods and manifestation in the Hindu pantheon, perhaps Ganesha is the most popular. Even the most uninformed and uninterested visitor to this country cannot help but notice the elephant-headed visage of Lord Ganesha on just about every auto and in every building. This week has been Ganesh Chaturthi, which is the festival celebrating his birthday. The whole event is rather ritualized and significant (while some areas do not celebrate as wildly, it is a national holiday), so Kaia and I thought that we would give it a whirl and try our hand at celebrating local style.

The first thing we had to do was to purchase a small clay figure of Ganesha that would adorn our home for three days and then, on the third day, be tossed into the ocean (or river) as a symbol of Ganesha’s journey toward his home in Kailash and taking the misfortunes of man with him. When I first heard about this, I was a bit in disbelief that we (everyone) was going to take these statues and throw them into the ocean?!? Little did I know that some folks create plaster of paris idols that reach up to 25 feet in height! So Kaia and I went to the nearby temple where, conveniently, there were hundreds of clay Ganesha statues for sale. We purchased one, but then I realized, if we were going to do this right, there were a number of other accessories that we’d need to get. Here is where it helps to have regular temple going domestic help.

Our ayah, Joyce, advised us of all of the things that we’d need to get to make it right: a coconut, sugar cane, dates, bananas, camphor (for burning), a bell (to summon Ganesha), corn, a banana leaf (to place things on), dahl, and a puffed rice mixture (that Ganesha supposedly likes to eat). All of these things can be seen in the first photo. Oh, and an umbrella and flower lei for Ganesha as well. After getting everything for less than $3, we set it up. She told me how to peel one banana (in the opposite direction) while keeping the other closed and the process for doing the puja, which Kaia did a great job with—even placing the flowers and mixing the food (photo #2).

After placing all of the items in their proper place, we lit the camphor and circled it three times around Ganesha while ringing the bell. After the completion, you ‘feel’ the heat from the burning camphor and touch it to your forehead. In photo #3 Kaia is learning how to do this with a little help from Sethu. In photo #4, the process is complete with a little reverent prayer and bow and it is off to the ocean in a few days.

We did the puja on Wednesday in our home and then, on Saturday experienced the external celebration that I was particularly looking forward to. It was just a long procession of people (mostly men) shouting and chanting, carrying Ganesha statues, making their way to the ocean. The small clay statues, like the one that we had brought with us, were piled up in the back of bullock carts, presumably from regional temples, and the people were disposing of them as proxies. But what was particularly stunning was the size and elaborate décor of some of the statues. As I said before, all I could think about is—what is the ocean going to look like after this? In the final photo, you can see how they lift the larger statues with a large crane and then boat it out about 100 yards before dumping it. It must be a pretty creepy looking artificial reef out there with hundreds of Ganesha in various states of decomposition.

But back to our little disposal ritual, we made our way through the sea of humanity to the shoreline where we said our goodbyes and I proceeded to contribute to the massive littering exercise in the name of spiritual cleansing. I tried to throw it as far as I could, but (from the photo below) there are a number that just don’t make it very far.

As expected, Kaia was thoroughly impressed with the cranes and disposal process. He’s also developed an affection for Ganesh and immediately asked when we were going to get a new one. The entire process and final event was truly memorable and Kaia really enjoyed himself. Somehow I don’t think that folks would look to kindly at us tossing elephant headed clay figurines into the Puget Sound in the future.

Why I Love this Time: Learning to say ‘yes’, and with enthusiasm!

The Puja Space 

Mixing Treats for Ganesha