Back at the nest, feeling undeservedly blest...

Branches bowed down by the weight of pears...
Bright green bunches of grapes in the small grapevine...
Plump red and yellow tomatoes kissed by the sun...
Purple luscious plums ripening by the minute...
Racket of early birds gathering breakfast...
Unrestrained happy purrs and meows of the kitties...
Cozy favorite comforter spread out on the bed...

lift my spirits enough to not let

Overgrown brown grass and weeds,
Piles of accumulated mail,
Lingering litterbox odor,
Dust and disarray from months of absence

take away the elation at finding ourselves back at this little patch of Earth we call our Home.

Briefly breaking a couple of 12-hour naps to answer Nature's calls, nestled within familiar walls, Ana seems to be getting back into the rhythm of things today.

Happy with a few bottles of milk for nourishment, guzzled down in half-dazed state, Oggie seems to have managed the first 24 hours at home with minimal activity.

While some (read D) like to dismiss jetlag as made-up hogwash, my system seems to have succumbed to it, thanks to a fairly tedious 9½-hour flight followed by a 10-hour flight, with associated check-in/transit/security formalities compounded by dragging a groggy kid attached to one leg and a screaming infant dangling on the chest, not to mention the diaper bag, activities bag, snack bag and change-of-clothes-and emergency-medicine bag hanging onto various body parts.

On an aside, I find that getting back from India has caused severe desynchronosis than the other way round, for me. Despite the 24 hour onward journey with the associated challenges along the way, I managed to get to my parents', rest till a decent morning hour, freshen up and head out for a short shopping trip with my mom... not so now that I am back.

Possibly the adrenalin charged me up on the way over, and knowing I was not alone probably helped sustain the spirit.

Staring at the pile of unsorted mail held for about a month since D's trip across the globe, now that I am home alone with the kids, I feel a bit overwhelmed dealing with bills, juggling the unavoidable chores of grocery-shopping, cooking and laundry, not to mention taming the garden and making sure its bounty is well-utilized (read: canning tomatoes, tom.sauce, plums and pears; drying the mint leaves and Thai chilies, gathering the fennel seeds), and generally getting the house back in order...

In the confusion that ensued from having to set the baby loose, remove the baby carrier from person, empty pockets and send bags through conveyor only to have the ultra-sensitive detector at Frankfurt beep at the token Thaali that I wore for the India trip, as I watched helplessly desperately imploring for someone to please watch my loosed-infant running at top-speed putting a good 8 feet between him and me, several not-so-good things happened, the worst of which was that I left all 3 passports behind and didn't even realize it until after boarding the plane and strapping the kids in for take-off!

Well, long story short, the trip back was a slightly less harrowing experience than the onward one, and all I can say is that thanks to the sincere prayers my mom and dad sent heavenwards, I felt a divine presence by my side bringing us home safely.

This post would be incomplete if I didn't send out my sincere thanks to Dad for bringing us home from the PDX airport without much fuss... and Mom, thanks for staying an extra day to help us out as we recover... too bad you had to leave... Wish you could've stayed with us till your son gets back home...

Many sentimental and sweet thoughts from the India visit are ringing in my head waiting to get moulded into nice little posts, but, they have to be on hold for a little while longer till I can get organized here and handle the next few weeks alone...

As I focus on attending to things here, I am beginning to countdown the days till D comes home so the kids can settle down to a familiar and comfortable routine, knowing both Amma and Appa are there at hand when they need them. 'Til then, I'm sure all the fresh tomatoes from the garden completely justify eating salsa fresca for lunch with home-made chips (pieces of chapathi crisped in the toaster oven), and tomato salad for dinner, while feeding tomato soup and tomato rice for the kids every day till the bounty runs out...

---

p.s: I was trying to remember the last "vacation" and realized I had recorded it - feels nostalgic reading about it - Ana was just about 2 yrs old and Oggie wasn't anywhere around... it was sort of a relaxed tour but we managed to see a lot of new places and things... but I do remember it being quite a bit challenging traveling with Ana despite having D nearby.

Synchronous Vibrations

After the forty minute ride in a jam-packed bus dodging groping hands, with sweat-soaked bodies pressing on me while I try to keep my unwieldy school bag and lunch bag under control, I used to be desperate for a quick wash as soon as I reached home.

The bath, of course, is subject to availability of water, thanks to water-shortage in Madras at that time.

Slipping out of my school uniform and donning a fresh pair of home-clothes, it was either straight to Veena class or Dance class most evenings. Homework will always be there, what are nights for?

However, in the middle of all the commitments, at least 4 times a week, I used to fervently walk a brisk 15-minute walk to Kapaleeshwarar Kovil, my sanctuary in those days.

I would take my time to go around the various sannithi (sanctum), lingering a disturbingly long duration in Kapali sannithi, sometimes tears welling up in my eyes begging Him to guide me well in this lifetime so I don't have to pass through any more rebirths - this plea was a secret between Ishwarar and me, and I guarded it staunchly those days.

Somehow, after the demure and awkward 12-year-old morphed into an angry and frustrated teenager dissatisfied with the circumstances she found herself in, temple-visits took a back-seat to achieving something, although it wasn't clear what.

And, places where I lived for the last 18 years didn't have easy access to temples, making it a superfluous activity which was easy to give up.

Decades later, the sights and smells of the very same Kapaleeshwarar temple bring back a flood of emotions.

Walking in the temple with D the other night, just D and me, kids safe at home with grandparents, I let my tears flow freely not minding the odd looks and thoughts it was provoking in fellow bhaktas. To set foot in the temple premises again, traveling miles and miles, made me feel so very grateful for the opportunity early on in life when I wasn't so far away from the second womb that I call Kapaleeshwarar kovil.

I was not a big temple-going fanatic. I just found a certain peace and a sense of satisfaction that the soul was craving when I visited Kapaleeshwarar temple. Lingering near the Sthala Vriksham (Temple Tree), the punnai maram (mast wood tree), near the Punnaivana nathar sannithi, remembering the mythology both about Shiva who plucked Brahma's 4th head, and about Shiva who cursed Parvathi to be born as a peacock (nevermind that peacock is the male) for being distracted by a peacock during His discourse, I would transport myself to that parallel world where all this was not some hogwash mythological tale...

The smells of jasmine flowers from vendors' basket mingled with the ever-present urine-stench, the neat piles of vegetables, the gregarious gaggle of soman-clad shastrigal exchanging notes and news, the stream of honks and clangs from rushing traffic, the little narrow alleyways surrounding the temple where people still live, and run business under low-watt lightbulbs...

Walking around the temple tank, showing D the South and North Mada streets which probably got fairly eroded by my frequent jaunts in those days, I felt so very much at home until I stepped on a stagnant puddle of putrefied waste that turned out deeper than expected while avoiding the oncoming vehicle flow.

This messy jolt to reality however does not diminish the fact that who I am now is precisely because of, not inspite of, growing up with these experiences.

If I could transport Mylapore, somehow make a seamless amalgam of the facilities and amenities of my Lents neighborhood with the cultural richness of Mylapore, it could be my personal heaven.

As Steven Tyler croons, Dream On...

Krishna Janmashtami thoughts...

Row after row of cotton towels dotted with little round dough balls spread on the floor; tubs, stainless steel pots and cauldrons holding sweets and snacks in various stages of completion; rowdy kids chasing each other about the house not very mindful of the elaborate preparations for the evening...

... the evening resounding with chants and songs about Krishna, the most adored and most resplendent of the avatars of Vishnu, according to mythology.

Those are some of my sweetest snapshots of Sri Krishna Janmashtami from my early childhood, say about Ana's age.

My dad has never been one for elaborate poojas and rituals, so much so that even going to temples is not a big deal to him. He believes in one-to-one (aathmartha) communications with the Divine. My mom on the other hand will not give up any traditional celebration/ritual handed down in her family, practicing it as a form of Bhakti Yoga, going all out, not holding back without proper justification.

I guess growing up with these two distinct approaches to festivals and rituals, I have managed to strike a balance where I don't feel guilty about not going all out, but, prefer not holding back if circumstances so arrange themselves and favor my efforts, and generally opt for a moderate celebration that satisfies the soul.

Usually, Sri Krishna Janmashtami is celebrated in the Tamil month "Aavani" (the fifth month in a year in a traditional Tamil calendar), where somehow Rohini nakshatram manages to fall on an Ashtami (8th day after full moon/new moon).

But, if that doesn't happen, the date is somehow arrived at and announced in the local calendars.

And, today happens to be Sri Krishna Janmashtami, or Krishna's Birthday, as Ana likes to call it.

It was a quiet celebration at home, quieter than last year. Some favorite bhajans/songs/stotrams and a simple set of items for prasadam marked this favorite festival.

As Sri Krishna says in Bhagavad Gita (chapter IX, 26), Patram(Leaf), Pushpam(Flower), Phalam (Fruit) or Thoyam (Water), any of these offered with devotion is accepted by me affectionately.

The best part for me was that my mom took care of everything, I just had to get the kids dressed and make sure D comes over to round out the evening.

Now, a while back D's mom and I were talking about previous births and memories from previous birth lingering and appearing in our dreams etc.

Extending that thought, I have always felt that D was from a Palghat Iyer family in his previous birth. It surely explains how comfortable he is with my family's ways and my own personality which has been shaped by my upbringing.

He looks a natural in veshti, even in soman in pancha kacham, which he knows how to wear on his own and does it happily for occasions at home. And he easily slips into a colorful lungi, folded up in the comfortable local style, to go for a late evening walk with my dad.

Anyway, as my visit is coming to a close, I feel I haven't done any of the things I really should have done. Instead, I guess I have been fairly selfish.

Yeah, you guessed right, Guilt keeps gnawing...

My mom convinces me that days like these won't come back for Ana - to be carefree, no pressures of performing and excelling, no really rigid schedules to stick to, it is basically a long veg-out vacation. And that is what summers should be, so my mom says. My summers were the same way - pretty much eventless, all through my school life.

However, in today's cutting-edge world, with Theater Camps and Dance Camps and Swim Sessions and whatever else one can pack into a tiny little girl's life, it seems like I am taking away the advantage of all these extra activities by letting her just hang out with family, albeit in a culturally different setting, with enough sensory experiences to keep her mind alert, but still, nothing terribly structured and planned to provide her an edge in this cut-throat world...

That makes me feel like I have failed my little doll. But, C'est la vie, I guess...

Life's Little Luxuries...

Race-to-the-door mornings and tin-can-tight evenings leave little room for savoring life's beautiful moments back in my nest. But, this little break from our routine, this long-pending visit to India, this sumptuously rich opportunity is a precious gift I shall treasure always.

Breaking from my customarily sedate slacks-and-shirt or jeans-and-tee or skirt-and-blouse clad self who is too lazy to wear any jewelry except the wedding band and the same old earrings, I find that I am rather getting used to the bright shalwar-kameez, bangles, bindi and dangling earrings here - all of these accessories adding a bit of unexplainable cheer that I easily gave up a couple of decades ago, and don't seem to miss back in Portland somehow...

Slipping into local lingo, sipping tea from a roadside tea stall, I feel like a different person here. These distinct yet unified persona that I seem to be able to don and shed at will seems to strengthen my sense of self, especially when I need it most.

Somehow, I don't seem anxious to wipe down everything and the kids with oodles of anti-bacterial lotion, I don't seem to think twice about walking into a decent neighborhood restaurant and feeding idli and dosai to the kids, and I don't fret much over where the hard-working hands have been before they brought the said idli and dosai to my kids; I don't seem to mind stopping and buying a pair of pink bangles for Ana for Rs.5/- when the roadside vendor offers it enthusiastically, I don't have any problem dressing my kids in local simple cotton outfits bought after I landed, and I don't cringe as much when people I meet on the road try to pinch my kids' cheeks in an attempt to show their liking...

Maruthani (Mehendi) is a weakness, I freely admit.

And, being a bit old-fashioned, I prefer the thoppi (cap) for the fingers and little circles in my palm. None of the modern henna art designs for me. Oh, not that I don't like them, in fact henna art is itself a favorite subject of mine, but, when it comes to feeling at home, I find that getting back to the basics is all I need.

Applying it on at night after I put the kids in bed, then spreading old blankets on the floor and sleeping as carefully as possible so the effort doesn't go waste, and eagerly washing off the brown dried paste in the morning to reveal the gorgeous red dye is an experience impossible to describe.

Thanks to my Athai, who patiently picked the leaves from her garden and ground them herself, as well as sat late night after I put the kids in bed and applied it on my hands and feet, I can't get over the childish elation at seeing my hands and feet so adorned.

Thanks to maruthani and my mom, I was able to sleep through one night, one beautiful night, away from tumbling Oggie guilting me into making that 2am bottle and struggling to get back to sleep, serenely dreaming about the summers eons ago when this very same ritual was nothing much to write about.

Kasthuri Manjal. Yogurt and Aromatic Turmeric. What a lovely combination. While it is possible to apply this favorite face mask back in my nest, Time seems to prevent indulging in this simple act.

I find it very relaxing to apply this here and go about my business, even if it does get a bit annoying when Ana keeps asking, every 2 minutes, what's on my face and why I have it on...

And, it is not one bit embarrassing to me or the guest when they arrive in the middle of this herbal treatment and I answer the door looking unpolished :)


The heady scent of jasmine flowers bound together in a string adds quite a sparkle to freshly shikakai-ed hair.

As I take my time on Tuesdays and Fridays for head-to-toe oiling and a detailed warm wash of the self, then lightly braiding the still-damp hair and ornamenting it with flowers, I find that the routinely quick shampooing in the shower every other day, while great for my fast-paced life there, is not as satisfying to the soul. This little act feels like I have spent a day (and 200$) at the spa.

While occasional rose, dahlia and even the orange kanakambaram did catch my fancy, Gundu malli and Mullai (varieties of jasmine) were my two favorites when I was young. I couldn't bring myself to wear it to school - oh no, not with my white shirt, brown pinafore and black shoes. From middle school onwards, I gave up wearing bindi and flowers on a daily basis... Which made decking up for festivals and special occasions all the more wonderful for me.

Giving the kids an oil bath has been tough for me so far in my own world... Weekends being the only option, this little luxury of pampering the kids takes a back seat when it competes with the usual laundry, dishes, grocery-shopping chores in addition to cooking, vacuuming and getting ready for the week ahead.

So, now that I can afford it time-wise, I have been anointing the kids with gingelly oil and giving them a warm bath. Since their baby body-wash is quite mild, the sheen left on their skin after oil bath makes the effort more than worthwhile for me.

Sitting in their own little tubs, they seem to enjoy splashing about; and thanks to the scorching heat, after oil bath, they have lunch and take a nice long afternoon siesta, freeing me up for an hour or two to upload photos and blog a bit :)

Digging around in my mom's craft supplies and trying to do some of the little projects she has done...

Savoring the delicious local fruits...

These are some of the blessings I will be thanking God for when I get back.

Bye, Bye Magic Mirror...

Appa is Here!


The first ten days or so since our arrival in Madras, D was on webcam from Portland every day, coming up with silly things that would make Ana giggle gleefully. One such silly thing was to claim that he has a goat in his tummy. When Ana challenges this, he would come very close to the webcam with his mouth open as Ana knows that's the way to the tummy, and then, when he was close enough he would quickly thrust a picture of a goat in front of the webcam as he moved out of the way, thus convincing her that there is a goat (more precisely, a goat picture) inside his tummy. Precious!

As Ana was high on travel excitement and associated novelty she didn't really show any signs of separation anguish then.

However, as we hopped from town to town, spending days at a stretch where we couldn't do the webcam, she struggled with uprootment issues and started bawling uncontrollably (sometimes for about an hour at a stretch), repeating the same set of phrases, drawing from the stories we've been reading every night, almost as if afraid to say anything different as it would not convey her exact feelings to me.

"Amma, I am very sad because I miss my Appa"
"Amma, I want to be in Portland with Appa"
"Amma, I want a Magic Mirror like Beast gave Beauty so I could see my Appa"
"Amma, I prayed to Vishnu for one wish to see my Appa now 'coz I miss my Appa"

The heartrending cries every night for the last four of the six weeks here has somehow melted the Divine Planner's heart enough to arrange for D to be with us here!

This was such a remote possibility that I never encouraged any hope. I kept reassuring Ana that we will see Appa when we get back to Portland, and that he misses her terribly too... and I had asked him to call us on the phone as often as he can...

But, every day, I was crumbling internally, cursing myself for traumatizing her so.

I am sure Oggie missed his dad in his own way, but, he seemed to manage fine with all the attention he has been getting everywhere.

When D confirmed his arrival a couple of weeks ago, we decided to keep it a secret as we both were dying to see Ana's surprise and happiness when she came face-to-face with her Appa who is supposed to be waiting in Portland for us to come back.

Ana was speechless!

All she managed was a tremulous "Appa!" filled with disbelief.

She clung to him the whole ride home with the widest dimpled animated smile I have ever seen on her face.

Now, D's arrival has changed the dynamics of our trip a bit. He is on an official visit, so he cannot stay with us or go back with us, and has to work every day. Plus, he won't arrive until a few weeks after we reach Portland.

But, for now, Ana's rapturous elation is highly infectious and I am thanking the Gods for hearing her doleful wails and alleviating her distress.

Through the Sugar Cane Machine...

Sometimes I feel Guilt sustains me as a mom... why else would I start feeling terrible about everything despite seeing all the good that has come out of it, despite knowing that the good always outweighs the not-so-good, no matter how I do the math?

I feel like I have put Ana through the old-fashioned sugar cane juice machine, squeezing the sweet cheer out of her, leaving her crushed and exhausted.

This long trip we have been on since arrival in Madras 6 weeks ago, hopping from town to town visiting family and such, has been quite harrowing on the one hand, but, quite rewarding nonetheless. Ana and Oggie have been enveloped in love and affection from grandparents, grand-aunts and grand-uncles, aunts and uncles, all willing to shower attention on them, making their short time together pretty memorable.

But, all through the trip, I couldn't shake off this anger and guilt about being harsh on Ana more than I have ever been so far in her tender life. Now, agreed, it was all based on maintaining safety of the kids as well as ensuring "ideal" behavior from Ana, but, all that harshness has left me feeling like the worst mom on Earth, now that we are back at the nest and recuperating in Madras.

The guilt is inevitable because Ana is inherently a sweet kid, no real destructive tendencies in her, but, she was surrounded by grown-ups (including me) who have forgotten how they were as a kid, and are out-of-touch with how to relate to a kid her age, and who couldn't arrange activities that would appeal to her, so much so that she felt bored and had only Oggie to take out her frustration on.

And, Oggie being of the right age and personality to command and hog everyone's attention did not help her one bit. Probably just aggravated her more. The fault is mine for just throwing her in the water and asking her to learn to swim on her own, but, it was all well-intentioned as I completely trust my family to take care of her needs easily and happily.

No, no, don't get me wrong, this is not a judgment on anybody, not at all - it is just my ramblings now that I have the luxury to type away... It is my responsibility to keep Ana and Og entertained, but, I was too preoccupied catching up with family, dying to chat away in Tamil and go out to temples and such that I left poor Ana to her own devices.

Well, truth be told, she had quite a few activities books and story books to keep her occupied, her grand-aunt and grandma are wonderful story-tellers who willingly told her lovely tales from Mythology, and we did work on things together whenever I could get myself to do it.

I just could not give her the undivided attention she demanded from me all the time. And that is what is gnawing at my vitals now. C'est la vie, I suppose...

But, since Og was quite fine with all the attention people gave him, and interacted freely with all, I assumed Ana would do the same and adapt to the available resources, freeing me up for a bit... that's where I was wrong.

Displaced from her familiar surroundings, thrown into scorching heat with no real respite, and to quote, "no good rooms to play in India" as she kept complaining, missing her dad terribly, so terribly that she bawled pathetically every night repeating, "I want to be in Portland with Appa", I bet life has not been easy for Ana.

Every house we visited here was different, with its own idiosyncrasies and rules and systems which made her dependent on me for every little thing from getting a drink of water to using the toilet... and me, callous old selfish me, pushing her to ask her grand-aunt or grandma for what she wants and not proactively jumping to her needs, becoming terribly volatile when she acted out, the volatility stemming not from her actual uncharacteristic act, but from the fact that she is proving me wrong about what a sweet child she has been so far in her own environment...

I didn't expect language to be such a barrier - with everybody speaking English, Ana still had to process the local English as a separate language and she gave up after the first few days. She tuned everybody out, her ears receiving only my personal frequency.

Oggie will probably not remember much, but he is growing faster than I can keep up, amusing and entertaining all with his new tricks and baby-antics.

Ana will surely remember the A/c sleeper train travels, the local parks and attractions, and of course watching Little Krishna and Tom & Jerry till her eyes bubbled, living in a culture so different from what she is used to since birth, listening to stories of Rama, Krishna, Ganesha and Shiva, perhaps even slowly adapting and liking her Indian side. She will hopefully forgive and forget her mommy for expecting her to be ladylike and be the perfect little angel she is in her own environment back in PDX.

She is a good kid, she did not get into others' cupboards and pull everything out and break anything despite her frustration and boredom. She just resorted to pushing Oggie, taking away and hiding Oggie's security toy without which he struggles to fall asleep, picking him up and dropping him to the floor, shutting the door on him - there were many close calls - concussions and finger-crushings were just barely escaped - and, these were the main times I have had to be hard-heartedly harsh on Ana. Safety is not to be taken lightly, in my mind... agreed there will always be the inevitable, the accident, but, I prefer they remain rare as they should be rather than sit back carelessly and watch.

Sigh!

Would it have been better to send her to some blasé Summer Camp and skipped this trip to India? My heart emphatically screams a loud NO.

And, D reassures me by being fully supportive of my effort to cultivate their Indian roots. Gluing cotton balls, stringing beads, identifying moth caterpillars, reading and writing can all be saved for the school year... the richness of this experience, at this age, with all the digital pictures and videos of her visit is sure to leave a positive impact on her.

For now, I have vowed to make up for the harshness so far, reserving the strong reprimands for the times when she is still very rough with Og... I have no problem letting her watch Chota Bheem and Dora, knowing full-well that when we are back in Portland none of these are available and she will probably be so saturated that she won't care for more... plus she will be busy learning cool stuff at school that she will be quite happy being productive.



*Image taken from google image results for sugar cane juice machine

Trying to get the groove

After only four visits during the last 18 years away, I do feel strangely displaced in my own city. Yes, my city. My Own Madras.

While I find it easy to

...slip into salwar kameez or saree and do the shringaram with bindi, bangles, flowers and suchlike effortlessly,

...juggle various dialects and accents of Tamil while in Tamil Nadu, and get by well with a neutral Hindi while in the north, even though I haven't spoken it on a daily basis for nearly 16 years,

...read my favorite variety of local magazines and newspapers in Tamil, poring over recipes and kolams and embroidery instructions,

I must admit that I find it quite challenging to get used to

...slippery tiled and mosaic bathroom floors,

...wet WC and sandpaper TP,

...not enough clean public restrooms,

...Indian-style toilets (enough said),

...frequent unscheduled power cuts,

...Heat and Dust.


Many things that nagged me 18 years ago, still manage to irk me now

...the unfairly exorbitant fares demanded by auto-drivers; the constant haggling to get a fair deal; the recklessness of road-users

...the way everybody tries to make it their business to tell you what(not) to do

...the way people get upset by the merest things and get heated over trivial stuff

...the abject poverty that drives many fellow-(wo)men to seek charity, sometimes even panhandle

On the other hand, where else would

...a full-grown man, our watchman at my parents apartment complex, almost prostrate and touch Oggie's feet simply because he truly believes babies are Gods

...neighbors do Ganapathy Homam and bring over a bounty of prasadam items to share

... a variety of fruits and vegetables make it tough to choose between seasons? Even, many varieties of the same fruit - like rasthali, poovan, majal pazhams (varieties of bananas), and the many varieties of mangoes, not to mention sapota, guava, nagapazham, nungu and the elixir par excellence called Coconut Water?

Watching Banumathy dancing while singing Azhagana Ponnu Thaan (Ali Baba), in her characteristic minimalistic movements with that smirk-like twinkle in her eyes and smile on her lips on TV the other night opened a floodgate of memories... I did have a liking for songs from my mom's generation, maybe because she liked them so...

The heat is bringing out the worst in me... Being mindful of electricity bill for my dad, I refuse to run a/c all day - so, just a few hours in the afternoons when it is unbearable, and at nights (bio-sleep) at the highest setting (not the coldest) so kids get a good night's rest is all I can bring myself to incur.

Oggie being terribly demanding, I find myself meeting his needs more often than Ana's - proving the squeaky-wheel-gets-the-oil syndrome.

Ana is acting out her frustration and is getting to be quite a handful. I think she just misses her school, her friends, her dad, and her home. She has never been this difficult before - I understand her vexation, I do want to help her, but, am finding it rather tedious, so, I let her watch Chutti and pogo as much as she wants (no Tata Sky here).

The beach trips so far have been quite a hit. Sort of. Ana is never ready to leave when we are, and kicks up a huge fuss after all the fun.

While every effort has been made to put away the shaving blades, kitchen knives and scissors, pad the sharp corners of furniture, keep the bathroom doors closed, it is still not quite child-friendly here, making me constantly vigilant, leaving me terribly exhausted... Besides, Oggie is a tumbler, a rolling tumbler, in bed. Even pillows piled all around him can't stop him from spilling over to the edge of the bed.. he fell off only once so far, my fault for not watching. I miss his crib probably more than he does.

On the plus side, no cooking, no cleaning, no serious work except mind the kids. My mom, despite her back and knee issues, does all the work because they don't have any maids or helpers for doing the dishes and cleaning the house... they've had a string of bad experiences with help that they decided not to have anymore. My dad, the most generous soul I have been blessed to meet so far in my life, gives me everything I want for day-to-day endeavors with such a genial smile that it shames me to ask for anything more.

I am filled with mixed emotions now that I am here with Ana and Oggie...

Kids Art: Vikas Learning Colours (Fun with Stickers)

I now know what it feels like to be steamed, boiled, baked, fried, roasted and stewed in my own sweat alive, all at the same time, thanks to Madras heat wave. I feel awful for putting Ana and Oggie through this, but, we can't have everything, so, we take the good with the not-so.

We just got back from a harrowing short road-trip visiting some temples in South India that I wanted to take the kids to. In a NON-A/C car! Pure torture. Not intentional, just so happened that it needed to be done, timing seemed right and I didn't want to put it off till later in my visit. But, more about the trip later.

After two weeks of first-hand observation, my dad's nickname for Ana: Mowna Vratha Upavasini. It is a Sanskrit made-up phrase that roughly translates to Vow-of-Silence-and-Fast-Observer, on account of Ana refusing to talk much (claims she is shy), and not eating anything (claims she doesn't like anything we offer).

But, I am rambling...

It has been a bit of a challenge to keep Ana occupied here - she is used to doing a lot of stuff, quite independently, and now, feeling displaced and frustrated by the heat, plus missing her dad a lot, she is becoming quite a handful. So, my mom looked around and bought a few activities books that she thought might keep her engaged for a week at least. She finished them in 2 days :)

This here is one such activity that she took to easily and enjoyed. We found it at a local store, for Rs.40/-called Vikas Learning Colours. It is one of a series of books where each of the 8 or 10 pages has a printed outline of a scene, part of which has solid lines, and part of which has dotted lines.

The book comes with stickers marked clearly for each page. Simply peel the stickers for that particular scene in that page, stick it on the dotted areas correctly (pattern matching). Then, complete coloring the picture using crayons with suggested colors.

They have abbreviations for suggested colors printed on the picture like G for green, Gr for grey, Pk for pink, V for violet, O for orange, R for red and so on. So, it was also a good way for Ana to figure out what colors to use - of course, G she knew right away as green just looking at the picture, but Gr for grey was not easy to figure out for her...

It is quite a simple concept, and could be interesting for 3-4 year olds, if they are into stickers and coloring. The pictures are cute with bright colors when done per instructions. Initially, I showed her one - the bear picture - then she did a few entirely without help.

The only complaint I have is that getting the stickers out of the page could be a bit of a challenge for tiny hands. And, it didn't really teach much about colors like the title suggests, but, I am fine with that.

While stickers and crayons were not new to Ana, she enjoyed the combination of the two activities to produce a beautiful finished product, almost effortlessly, and as I found out, almost immediately :)

Got Milk?

No, not the universally popular beverage... I am talking about the invaluable Milk of Human Kindness which seems to be in short-supply around the world.

So, I was agonizing worse than a cat on a hot tin roof for a few weeks, with my mom and D giving me the much-needed boost, to do what many sane mothers would find curiously masochistic: I took the first flight out of town, flew half-way round the world with Ana and Oggie (no, D could not come with us) and am here in Madras now to spend summer with my parents. (I know, but my mind refuses to accept "Chennai", so Madras it shall remain for me).

I probably shouldn't toss the whole basket just because of a few rotten apples, but, I doubt if I will fly Lufthansa again after they screwed up. I called them 48hrs before travel, everything was confirmed, but after I waited in the mile-long line eagerly with my bags and baggage to check-in and finally got my turn, they claimed that the system didn't recognize Oggie as a traveler!! Thank God D was there, or I would have just bawled, considered it an omen and ran back to the safety of my home, knowing air travel has not been my friend... but, D hung in there, we got it sorted out and got our boarding passes.

In my excitement to get going after the mini fiasco of system rejecting Oggie, I delayed worrying about the fact that they issued boarding passes in not just two separate rows, but two different sections for me and Ana! Oggie, of course, was a lap-child.

So, I talked to the air crew as soon as we boarded. Now, I was given the bassinet row which I had requested at the time of booking, and so, my seat was there, but, Ana's was elsewhere. Which is unacceptable, even by airline rules - a small child is not to be seated away from her mother in the same flight. So, the flight attendant tried to ask around and switch passengers who are willing, so as to let Ana sit next to me. Here is where I choked: Nobody offered to switch, and what's more, when the flight attendant requested very kindly to this gent, he simply said, "No, I won't" and refused to budge!

All the while Ana was huddling next to me wondering if she has to travel standing the whole way to India, with Oggie squirming on my lap... Well, long story short, the air crew supervisor stepped in, and found a way to let Ana sit next to me. Phew!

However, as soon as we were on the runway, strapped in and ready to lift off any second, Ana started crying that she needed to puke. NOW.

Expected, of course. And, Be Prepared being my Girl Guide motto from childhood, I had packed change of clothes for both the kids. So, I told Ana to throw up in the paper bag or on herself till we are allowed to get to the toilet at cruising altitude.

Now, Oggie was not liking the fact that he was strapped in with me and started squirming and protesting vehemently, much to the annoyance of my fellow passengers. I could feel their piercing can't-you-get-that-brat-of-yours-to-shut-up stares... but, what the hey, we all were kids once and who knows how our mommies endured similar glares then. So, be my guest, stare all you want, I can feel my epidermis getting visibly thicker by the minute was my mantra to get through it.

Somehow, the 10+ hrs from PDX to FRA went by, partly thanks to the bassinet, partly thanks to the little screens on every seat for kids to watch some show, and mostly thanks to Polly Pocket! Yep, I didn't succumb to her wee little wiles till now, but again, since Be Prepared was my motto, I had bought a tiny new carry-along playset for Ana for the flight. She was happy just putting on the clothes and shoes, taking them off, setting up a party and such, and was quite easily engaged in her own world... just dropping by into my world to use the potty and puke and refuse the water and food I kept offering her periodically.

Of course, Polly Pocket helped me in more ways than she knew: I simpy took it away from Ana when she would not drink up the water to keep hydrated, and pee periodically to make sure she is not terribly uncomfortable.

As I knew carrying a tired infant and dragging a groggy Ana from one gate to the next to switch flights in FRA would be next to impossible, especially with a diaper bag for Oggie, a backpack with activities and change of clothes for Ana, plus a bag with snacks and food for the kids as they won't eat anything new, plus the umbrella stroller... I had requested assistance in the form of motorized cart right at the time of checking in and getting my boarding pass. It is one of the services Lufthansa offers, and when I had called 48hrs before travel, the agent on the phone assured me that if I requested the ground crew at the time of check-in I will be taken care of.

Hah! The agent at the Lufthansa counter at PDX was competely inept as I found out - she didn't put in my request! At least that is what the air crew told me when I asked about it before we landed at FRA. They helpfully suggested asking the ground crew if they can transport me even though my request doesn't show up in their system.

As I found out, the ground crew was completely callous and snapped 'Kinder Wagen?' gesturing me to wait around for the stroller that I had checked in at the PDX gate, and then telling me in no uncertain terms that they cannot arrange to help me get to my next gate as it costs 41€ and since my request was not in their system they cannot do it, and there is no recourse, and requesting right now is not valid... not even helpful alternatives to get around, not even a simple, we could try now but no guarantees... nothing. Interestingly enough, there seems to be some silent war going on between the air crew and the ground crew.

Meanwhile, I felt like I was dying and was still only half-way to my destination...

Now, I swear, I did pack light! Somehow between the diapers and formula and change of clothes and activities and snacks for kids, it just didn't seem so. But, it was bare minimum essentials for such a long journey, believe me.

The 10 hrs with pukey Ana and unhappy Oggie, while expected and prepared for, did take its toll on my nerves. I would have managed the tiresome trek from one gate to the next at FRA had the security checkpoint personnel had some sense of consideration for a mother carrying a screaming infant and a tired little child and not barked at me and my little girl. I came apart right there cursing myself for believing that I can do it and trusting my mom when she naively assured me that people are helpful... Boy was she wrong!

Well, let me back up a bit: the little droplet of the Milk of Human Kindness that sustained me at the start was at PDX airport: even though TSA video claims "Choose your Lane" if you are traveling with kids or have Medical Liquids we have a special lane for you... they had none at PDX. However, fellow passenger on the line helped me put the 3 bags plus the stroller, plus the shoes, in bins and slide it along to help me. And, the checkpoint security guy simply smiled and said come on over with your kids, it is fine - and they didn't make a huge fuss about anything, clearly realizing that harrassing a mom frightens her kids, adopting the prudent policy not to suspect such a traveler unnecessarily.

In contrast, at FRA, they barked so badly at me, not sure for what and I didn't care as I wasn't carrying any contraband, that it frightened sweet Ana. When they were not nice to my little girl, I unhinged and fell apart. They made me set Oggie down on the counter to almost strip-search me, all the while Oggie pathetically wailing pointing and looking at me as he was being restrained by a german officer. And poor Ana was asked to sit by the conveyor till they could ascertain that I was not a threat to fellow travelers. All this is from getting off one plane and getting to the next gate for the next leg of the travel. I simply hate large airports. My worst experiences so far were at LGA (NY), EWR (NJ), and ORD (Chicago). But FRA left them all far behind.

I bawled. I bawled uncontrollably much to the scornful stares of fellow travelers. I didn't care. I did valiantly try to reassure Ana that Amma was fine, just needed to let the water drip from her eyes for a while.

Anyway... Let me pause to reiterate that I was expecting no special treatment anywhere. I will do all the security needs, I will follow all the rules, just show some manners, decency, and basic human kindness. I did not expect this journey to be a cake-walk. I was psyching myself up before travel and prepared Ana as best as I could.

Agreed this was my choice: I was eager to see my parents and to let my kids bond with their grandparents. And, agreed I went along with my mom and D when they said you can do it, it is not an impossible task once you set your mind to it. I can hear myself thinking Suck it up and Get on with it! However, in the interest of venting, and seeking some sort of closure, let me finish the story here.

The 9 hrs from FRA to MAA was not much different from the previous leg, except, Ana and I were seated together without incident, and the kids' bio-clock kicked in, albeit late, and they slept for half the duration which gave me time to collect myself.

I found myself thanking God for keeping the flights on time and safe. I caught myself gazing at the two little sleeping forms and begging for forgiveness from whichever authority keeps track of such things for putting them through such an odyssey just to satisfy my need for them to bond with their grandparents... and was slightly amused to find myself enjoying filling out the customs and immigration forms while the kids were asleep, trying to picture the Madras airport from my previous visit four years ago...

Four flights arrived at nearly the same time, making the Immigration queue much longer than normal; plus they had this Swine Flu checking - took my temperature and such... all the while poor Oggie would not shut up. He was red in the face, sobbing with gasping breaths, inviting very unkindly stares from passengers who had a brood of their own standing in the queue.

I managed to stay calm, reassure Ana and let Oggie know that I hear him and understand him but cannot help him as I needed all my focus and strength to get through the hurdles... I managed to pay a helper-guy to get my suitcases on to a cart but he was a busy-bee managing several customers, so, I took custody of the cart, juggling customs forms, making sure my passport holder didn't fall off in all this excitement and praying to Lord Anjaneya for superhuman strength to get me through.

With Oggie hanging on my chest in the baby carrier and Ana hanging onto my shirt, wheeling the cart full of travel paraphernalia out, I must've been quite a curious sight... but I didn't care...

I blossomed like a lotus and wilted like a sensitive orchid at the same time as my roving eye settled on my dad and mom waving fratically at the exit to receive me and take me into their protective custody!

So here I am. In Madras. Sipping filter kaffee from eversilver davara-tumbler, letting my mom fool Ana into thinking the Whey Protein Bournvita she made was the coveted Chocolate Milk that Ana lives for, watching Oggie strew the puzzle pieces Thaathaa and Paattee had kept handy, thinking: I don't want to go back! At least, not yet!