The homecoming

The hero is back. With a bang. And a running nose.
As soon as he got in, and after the customary hugs, he began exploring the house and familiarising and remembering everything he had left behind. And the new stuff that came in his absence.
One person who didnt seem terribly thrilled to have Ash back was Mira. She sat glum and scowling at not being the centre of attention and did not warm up to the kiss her happy brother presented her. Anyway kids are kids, and she was last seen (when I left for work) playing with him.
Ash had his lab appointment today. The result should be ready in a few days.

Mama and Mia

Ash is coming tomorrow with his grandparents. Arent we all excited? We are sprucing up the house and planning to hide away all the daily-play plastic toys.
When V spoke to him yesterday night, Ash said: "Achacha is coming to Madras. Appa, please come to the (train) station."

We have taught Mira to respond to one basic question in English: What is your name.
And she responds: Miam.
And as an aside, she whispers to me: Appi parayalle! Appa achum. (Dont use the word Appi. Appa will beat). She has learnt it the hard way :)
Appi, the most obscene word in her vocabulary, and which she used at leisure when anyone asked her her name, is a taboo word now except when she actually wants to shit.
I am sure she will be able to comprehend and speak in English in a couple of months at the new school. Since we speak only Malayalam at home, she hasnt picked up as much English as many of her peers here do.
The name Miam gives me an idea. I am toying with the idea of calling her Mia. What say you? I dont like the chosen pet name Kripa while Mira remains only her screen name (for the blog and email correspondence). I need to call her something less babyish than Vaava soon. My dad, who doesnt like the name Kripa, calls her Maria-kutty.
But if she were to study in Kerala, she might get cat calls with a name like Mia.
Miaow!

Leaden fears

Ashwin's homecoming might happen sooner than we had planned, which was for July 7th.
The test for the lead content in his blood reveal a very high concentration that made the lab in Mumbai wonder if the child was alive at all. V spoke to the doctor at Sri Sankara who said he had a few cases, some from Indian kids in the US, but they are nowhere near the levels found in Ash. He asked us to take a second opinion before putting him on medication.
So V went to Dr. Kuruvila in the morning, who said the value could be wrong (which is what I am hoping too). He wants another test done at the earliest at Lister Lab in Chennai before starting the medication. Either of his grandparents might have to take the responsibility of bringing him here since these are busy days at work for V, June being their accounting year end. We have to plan by tonight.
While the dr. in Kerala says the problem probably started in the neo-natal stage (the traditional practitioners think it is the special ante-natal treatment that I underwent during the first pregnancy, which my gyn Dr. Nandita thinks is rubbish), Dr. KT has his doubts on the Siddha medicines Ash took for 3 weeks. Siddha, I learnt later, uses arsenic, lead, mercury and a couple of other toxic metals in small doses (homeopathy is also reported to use some of these) and since there is no quality control or dosage restrictions, people can put themselves at risk especially if they go to quacks.
Old paint and children's toys (most of which available here are Made in China) are other suspects. Save for the brief panic when Chinese-made toys were banned in the US, we have been pretty complacent. We need to identify the sources of exposure and try to eliminate them.

Light of my life

My daughter listens to the Taare Zamin Par CD quite often. She is particularly fond of Bum bum bole.

She giggles as Shankar Mahadevan reaches the Man ke andheron ko roshan sa kar dein (Fill the darkness in my heart with light) line in the title song. She knows it has something to do with her mother's name and repeats the word.

p.s. I hope I got the Hindi lines and the translation right. In spite of having studied Hindi until II B.A., my spoken Hindi is pretty pathetic.

***

Ash misses us sorely in the night. He starts sobbing, and his granpa ends up taking him for a walk at 11.30 in the night to cheer him up.

The daughter as mother

The hubby gives me a piece of his mind late last night for forgetting that I had left a saucepan of water to boil on the gas stove. I sheepishly switch it off and then bang the bedroom door behind him as he continues his harangue. I pick up the newspaper with a scowl when my two-year-old quietly opens the door and comes in.
"What happened, Amma?"
"Nothing!"
"Did Appa scold you?" she asks sympathetically.
Silence.
"Pottu, mole (doesnt matter, baby)," she consoles me.
I cant help smiling.
***
"Dochin, come here and stand. Let me take a snap," my daughter instructs me today morning. She positions my Nokia 6020 horizontally and checks the angle.
"Take off your specs. Here, give it to me". She carefully puts it aside on the table.
"Now smile." She makes a clicking sound.
"Ok, done."
***
Mira has even started barking instructions to the maid when we go out.
Wash all the plates. Fold the laundry. Wash the clothes.
***
She is already bossing over me.
"Amma, come here!" she tells me loud and sharp at a shop while the salesgirls and my sil grin in surprise.
I dont know what I will do with her in the years to come.

Taking the plunge

We have taken the plunge - of paying a year's schooling fee for Mira at the WCC nursery school. Her cousin sister from Kerala joins for BA English in the same college. We are visualising a scenario in which sister and sister will go to college together everyday, considering that the big sis hasnt got hostel accommodation and will need to stay with either of her two uncles' families in Chennai. She is likely to stay with her dad's bro and family rather than with us.
Classes for the pre-KG begin on July 1, with an orientation programme. Until then, I have to witness Mira's daily howls as I leave for work. She is bored stiff. I promise to take her out for a walk or an outing when I return in the evening.
But the days are too long and the evenings are another day for her.
***
V's uncle, who had played a major role in fixing our marriage, died after a not-very-long battle with prostate cancer day before yesterday. A homeo doctor, he had tried his hand at many trades not very succesfully- pisciculture, sericulture, cocoa cultivation and so on. My mom had been a paying guest in his house for nearly 13 years when she was posted in a school that was too far to commute on a daily basis. His wife was a teacher in the same school, and my mom was almost like a family member to them. They were the happiest when the two families established a bond through our marriage years later.

Missing each other

My mom is in Changanassery for two days to be with her grandson. She finds him a lot more disciplined, talking sense and talking clearly. The tantrums - or rather demands to get him this or that - continue. The itching is only occasional and his skin looks much better.

One thing I have forgot to mention is that we have stopped all the medication that we got for him from Trivandrum. When my inlaws took Ash for a 2nd opinion about his persistent itching with an Ayurveda doctor friend in Changanacheri, he found that Ash was being given siddha medicines and not proper ayurveda as we believed them to be. He advised us to stop them right away, including the oils. Instead he gave an allopathic ointment, probably with cortisone content, for temporary and has taken a blood test for lead content in his body. The test will be done in Bombay, so we have to wait for the results now.

I must say prayers help a lot too. The climate and cleaner air in Kerala too, I guess.

Mira's absence maketh his heart grow fonder for her. When his granpa gets him a toy, he now requests him to buy one for his kid sister, from whom he snatched away toys until now even when he didnt want to play with them.

And today, Mira tells me that she wants to go to granpa's house to be with Ash. She is bored sitting at home with the maid. Her new school will not start until July (V has finally consented to let me seek admission in WCC's nursery school when I offered to drop her at school in the mornings). Meanwhile we have to use all our resources to keep her occupied - to the terrace, to the groundfloor to see the watchman's daughters, for a walk, for an outing etc. etc. The outing is not easy with V's late hours except on Sundays. Last Sunday she went to the church and the beach, and has been clamouring for more church trips ever since.

Apart from looking after her doll, she has progressed to looking after me. She towels my hair, combs it but give up half way. "Amma, you have too much hair" and asks me to braid it myself. She insists that I read the newspaper while she applies creams and lotions on me.

As V watches her sweep and keep away things and pretend to cook, he remarks: "She is not going to be like her mother."

The young at heart

My granny turned 90 this March. She is still active in the kitchen and outside. She lives in our family house with my uncle and wife and does a good part of the household chores when my aunt goes to work in a neighbouring school.

Both her parents had lived to the ripe old age of 90 and beyond but they were bed-ridden. Granny probably looks younger than her age because she keeps herself busy.

***

The kids' favorite nanny came and stayed with us at Chandanapally for a week. It was a great relief for me to have a helping hand. The kids for their part had a great time with her. There is Ash, sitting on her shoulders.

A special lunch

This cream and orange building, which was getting a fresh coat of paint when we visited, is Karunya nilayam (Abode of kindness?), which provides lunch and boarding for the poor who come for treatment at the Kottayam Medical College. I did not that the KMC was located in an Onam-kera-moola (I mean a place where even Onam, our State festival, doesnt visit = a god-forsaken place). There are not many shops or houses on the way but opposite the hospital many shops have mushroomed. It is not a very planned development on that hilly terrain.

The centre is run by the Orthodox church. The CSI and Catholic churches also run homes catering to the food and boarding needs of the poor patients. The boarding is meant for the poorer cancer patients coming for radiation therapy. The CSI home charges a room rental of Rs. 150 for two (patient and attender), tells my old maid whose husband makes use of the facility. It provides free breakfast, while the Catholic home provides a light dinner.

My old maid confides that the boarding in karunyanilayam is free in the dormitories, there is a paltry rental of Rs. 30 a day for the single rooms.

Since we gave donation for a day's lunch for some 300 people, we were invited to partake in the lunch and view the proceedings. The women attenders of patients had already queued up when we reached.

They need to give a letter from the hospital stating that their economic status warrants assitance. An official checks their identity cards before giving them the green card to collect the food. The priest in charge told us that sometimes a patient would have 3-4 attenders, as when there is an operation, and food is provided for all of them.

Many people came with small buckets to carry the kanji. This is the counter where food is distributed.

The food meant for the patients is kanji (rice gruel) and payar (green or red gram) and pappad. As guests of honour we also got yummy cabbage thoren, banana and pickle. I think a couple of other families made donations the same day as they had just finished their lunch in the hall.

The gentleman in charge of the kitchen served us food in the basement dining hall. We had made the donation in Ash's name. There he is, getting a special treatment.

The centre is closed only on three occasions - Onam, Christmas and Easter. The cooks are mainly Hindus and need an Onam holiday. But then, who in Kerala wouldnt want to celebrate Onam?

There is me and Vaava having our meals. The food is simply great. I mean it is not an eyewash in the name of philanthropy.

A difficult choice

I am confused. I have shortlisted 2 schools for Mira to do her pre-KG - the WCC Nursery School inside the college campus and Vatsalya montessori.

I prefer to put her in the former but V prefers the latter. His main reason in favour of the former is a school van that can drop her home. Also it is not too far in case he needs to drop her in the mornings. The van as well as the school, set in a residential area, is air-conditioned. The fee would come to some Rs.18000 for a year. But then a montessori school is big business in Chennai. This seems the most reasonable of the montessori schools I have considered for Mira. There are no trees and shade like at patasala, but the rooms are spacious and they seem to have the necessary learning material.

The WCC nursery school is supposed to be damn good, as a couple of people vouchsafed, but then it is slightly far from home and they dont have a conveyance facility. Parents have to make arrangements to drop the child by 8.30 am sharp and pick her up at 2 pm. Food is provided (the kids are the guinea pigs of the Home Science students) and there is time for a mid-day nap too. The campus is pretty good and huge with lots of trees and plenty of space for kids to run around. V tells me he wont have the time to drop and pick her every day. A chauffer wouldnt be a safe option either in these days unless I get somebody reliable, such as a maid, to go along. The present maid, a young one at that, cant be trusted with that. I cant run the risk of her eloping with the driver :0

I would have liked to say that my daughter began her studies in WCC and finished it in the same place - of course after a gap of 15 years after the nursery level. But it is not to be.

School blues

Today, me and V remembered sadly that Ash was to have started his new big school today. 8.30 am to 10.30 am in the first few days, 8.30 to 11.30 am for the next few days and then 8.30 to 12.30 eventually.

Instead V went to meet the principal with a letter asking for one month's leave. She was very kind, and asked him to meet his class teacher in LKG - C batch. Right now I dont know how many batches they have. To our relief, it is a lady who comes to our church. We hope she will treat him kindly when he joins.

His ScooBee Day school bag and bright orange St. Johns kuda awaits him. He is impatient to start school since fil's tenants' kids (there are 3 school-going kids, who entertain, teach and play with Ash in the evenings) are away in school a good part of the day. He also has a teacher in Beena Aunty, the tenant upstairs who teaches French at a local school. She adores him as she has only two daughters and Ash is her favorite among fil's grandchildren. Unlike Mira, Ash keeps a distance from neighbours and doesnt enter their houses unnecessarily.

He also has a ravenous appetite now, which mil caters to very well. He is more organised too, waking up at 7 am and going to bed at 10 am with an afternoon nap to boot. We had never instilled much discipline in him with our irregular hours at work. We try not to speak to him when we call, since it upsets him and bothers him at bedtime. We instead get all the information from him grandparents, who are just about beginning to get some sleep in the night. Meaning, Ash is itching less and sleeping more during night.

"Please take me back to Madras when my itching is cured, " he entreats them and us.

Damp queries

On reaching home yesterday, I go up to dump the fish bones in my lunchbox in the garbage bin before leaving it in the kitchen sink for washing. I notice leftovers from the morning's puttu already dumped in it. Almost one kutti of puttu thrown away.

Why? I ask the maid.

Vaava spat into it while I was feeding her. I kept telling her dont spit, dont spit but she spat. The maid tells me.

But how could she spit, I ask her.

She spat when I went away to get some water for her. She says.

I look at the puttu once again and check its texture. Sometimes I can be worse than Sherlock Holmes.

I realise that it is just puttu powder wettened before cooking.

Were u feeding her uncooked puttu? I persist.

No, actually I was making it for Vaava in the evening. I had made her sit on the kitchen platform and she spat into the damp dough. The maid changes her tale.

I dont know why she threw it away. It continues to bother me. I hate wasting food that is not spoilt.

But what does she care? It is someone else's money and toil.

Capital lure

I fell in love with Trivandrum this time again. The last trip I remember making to the Kerala capital was in 1999, three months after my marriage. The Onam festivites had made Tvm culturally vibrant then. But it was otherwise the same - quiet and sleepy, like a village - save for a few high-rise buildings. A Bihari friend who visited it told me that it was probably the only State capital he had seen that looked like a village.
Save for the historical buildings from its princely state era and the British rule, Thiru-Ananthapuri (anything holy or regal in Kerala has a thiru prefixed) has gone for a complete face-over. The old small houses and shops in the main avenues have all but disappeared. Rents are sky-rocketing; our hosts live in a rented bungalow in Sasthamangalam that invites a rent of Rs.12000 a month. But it is huge, and there is a friendly old lady for a neighbour to chat with.

One goes there with prejudices of its original inhabitants being rude unlike in northern Kerala.
But then most of its present inhabitants are settlers - those who work in government offices and other organisations in the capital or Gulf returnees and other NRIs who thought owning a piece of heaven in Tvm instead of their god-forsaken villages elsewhere in the state was the in-thing.

What strikes me about Tvm is the cleanliness - you dont find any garbage dumped anywhere. Apparently, it was once rated the cleanest city in India. Nostalgia fills you up as you pass the Kowdiar Palace or the Victoria Hall. I drank in the beauty of the Palayam church, the College of Fine Arts, the LMS church and the Secretariat. The new Assembly building sticks out as a sore thumb in that historical melee.
Our Poovar trip was not to be. Instead, after visiting a few relatives of V and seeing off fil a day after we reached the capital, we made a night trip to one of the less-crowded beaches in Kovalam. We let the breeze caress our sun-tanned faces before having dinner at Hotel Sea Face. The name intrigued me - was it the face of the sea or just a sea-facing hotel? I also sighted a the billboard of Linchu's Ayurvedic Resort (dont get lynched there!).

Kovalam is the tourists' paradise in Kerala but there is a lot of shady activities going on in the name of tourism now. Drugs, s*x, fraud - you name it, Kovalam has it all. The latest issue of Vanita reports that cross/s*x massages thrive in the name of Ayurvedic massages.

The Trivandrum zoo: We left Trivandrum the next day afternoon after a trip to the zoo. We did not visit the Museum nearby this time - the kids are too young to appreciate it. But enjoy they did the wild animals in the Maharaja's own zoo. Sadly there are not many animals now. Many have died of starvation - I am told the contractors who supply food for the animals smear cleaning lotions on the meat. We saw a crane go to the half a dozen dead fish in its cage, smell it and come away; it drank some water instead. The animals, save for the vultures pecking at some red meat, looked tired in the mid-morning sun. Too tired to eat, too tired to humor the visitors (save for a huge old stork posing as if for a snap with its wings stretched wide) and too tired to walk. A sloth bear swung its head in frustration, a lion roared from the moat below its enclosure and a tiger shat into the shallow pool in its enclosure - all of which fascinated my children.

Mira still tries to roar like the lion and laughs as she remember the tiger shitting into the water. It was also the first time she had seen a zebra and a giraffe. Ash came home and pulled Mira big ears and said: Elephant!

The power of Ayurveda

Many in Kerala swear by Ayurveda. The diet restrictions are tough but it is worth the trouble. My mom, who developed severe itching after consuming dried prawn chutney in Tanzania, had to resort to Ayurveda for a complete cure.
On our third day in Kerala, we left for Thiruvananthapuram (formerly Trivandrum) to consult with a couple of Ayurveda doctors about the best way to cure Ash's skin condition. Father-in-law accompanied us; it was convenient having an extra hand to tackle the kids while V drove. We took NH 47 and the Kayamkulam-Kollam-Ochira route to Tvm. We passed many a swank bungalow, a "Swiss Academy" in a shed for students seeking parallel college education, Quilon town (the only place there was a traffic hitch; why are NHs made through the heart of bustling towns?) and the Neendakara bridge overlooking the sea and reached Tvm by 7 pm.
We headed straight away to Ramachandra vaidyan, who had retired from the Tvm Ayurveda College and whose father had been a vaidyan in the Trivandrum Palace. He gave Ash a quarter glass of some concoctions (probably arishtam) thrice before telling us some of Ash's habits and problems. He suggested many a diet restriction for him - no non-veg, no milk, no bakery stuff, no sambar or fatty stuff etc. and gave a thailam (oil) to apply on his body and arishtam to drink.

That made me want to consult him about my back pain. He gave me a pint of arishtam before checking my pulse and telling me some of my problems, then another before the next pulse checking and another before the last. He said my back pain had its source in a head injury that made me very forgetful (the kind who would put tea leaves in the rice vessel and vice versa), gave me headaches, increased my BP etc.etc. I dont remember each symptom he told me but at that point I was impressed because I thought all that he said was true. I was asked to restrict my tea/coffee intake to twice a day, my bath before 9.30 am applying a head oil he gave me or between 4.30 and 5.30 pm. (and no half baths of just head or just body, and no mixing of hot and cold water) and reduce spicy and sour stuff.
The next day, V and our host in Tvm took Ash to a karappan specialist called Dr. Anoop who dealt with bala chikilsa (children's treatment). The modest Agastya Pharmacy in Pazhavangadi near the East Fort is better known after his granpa Kuttan vaidyan. Dr. Anoop told me when I met him a week later, on a follow-up visit, that he did his BAMS in Chennai. He told me that atopic dermatitis is considered a form of karappan but said it could go on till Ash is 16 or so in a milder form.
He prescribed a kashayam, a diuretic and oils for the body and scalp. The kashayam has to be prepared at home every alternate day and given 4 times a day, starting at 9 am. Readymade kashyams contain preservatives and cant be given to kids. Hence we boil 6 tbsp of a powder in 1 litre of water till it became 240 ml and give him 30 ml giving a time gap 3 hours. A black tablet looking like a small bullet is to be grated and mixed with the first and last serving for the day.
Ash has no hang-ups about the kashayam, only about the poovarasaadi thailam (probably castor oil) he has to take at 7 am. It gives an enema effect and clears his system. It tastes yucky but what he hates is that he is woken up so early to take it. The poor fellow doesnt get much sleep at night, and gets a itch-free sleep only after dawn.
The diet involves shirking all non-veg except mutton, bakery stuff, brinjal, lady's finger etc.
We have hence left him in Kerala since his grandparents have more time and resources (like a firewood stove) to take care of him. With cooking gas costing Rs. 50 extra from today, it is going to be tough making kashayams and making his bath water boiled with nalpamaram (a tree's red bark), thriphalam, raamacham and sandalwood.
Ash has been given permission by the school principal to take some 15 days' leave. He will return to Chennai in end June, though his school open on 10th.

A wedding and a funeral

I like attending Syrian Orthodox weddings. I like the wedding songs in particular. I know most people - the bride and groom, and the guests included - would crib about the hour-long ceremony standing on foot through most of it. For a bride on stilted heels, it can be particularly hard. Many like my dad stand outside the church and chat with friends and relatives one gets to see only at weddings and funerals. The only thing that interest them is the sumptuous feast afterwards.

I thoroughly enjoyed attending the wedding of V's niece at the Vakathanam church on 18th. But not so much the traditional Kerala Syrian Christian lunch after that. The welcome drink was over by the time we reached the queue but I must say the food was quite good. The days of fried rice-chicken curry and mutton biriyanis at wedding feasts are over, people are reverting to traditional fare. The kids - Ash, Mira and their first cousin Minu - enjoyed the chicken legs and icecream sundaes. But we had chosen a part of the hall that had no fans on that hot, humid day. As V said, I looked like a kabaddi player after a match, sweating profusely but doggedly pursuing with my meal.

A week later, when I reached my parents' place, the first big news I heard was that an old neighbour nicknamed Kallakittu (Thief Kittu) had passed away. Mind you, he had a respectable Christian name but this was a name he had earned when his family was in hard times and he probably needed to pilfer things to eke out a living. I have memories of him going past my house in pouring rains with a banana leaf or a colocasia leaf in place of an umbrella. In those days, many people did that.

Well, Kittu ammavan's fortunes changed when his handsome son managed to marry a nurse working in the US. Doesnt matter if he tricked her into it or the fact that he was some 8 years younger to her. Kittu ammavan became David muthalali, and even made a couple of trips to the US with his wife to see his son and family. A palatial bungalow came in the place of the old, crumbling house and Kittu ammavan's wife stopped going to Balan's tea shop (now that is another rags-to-riches story - of how Balan the grocer-cum-tea wallah became Balan sir) for her morning and evening tea.

But Kittu ammavan's frail old mother continued to trek to the tea shop in the east of my village for her meals and murukkan (betel leaf-arecanut combo) until her death. For her daughter-in-law never liked her much and she had no option but to eat out. I am told the American son tried to change that but I dont know how successful his diktat was.

The families of Kittu ammavan and his brothers had another nickname too - sayippus (the Whites) because they were fairer than the fair. The men were all handsome while the women were quite beautiful.

Now, Kittu ammavan died and his body was kept in the mortuary for 3 days. His son, who had made a trip from Chicago only a week earlier, had to come.

Strains of samayamam rathathil njan ... (I make the journey to heaven on the chariot called time) wafted through the air as the ambulance brought the stiffened body on a Tuesday. What I hadnt bargained for was that the rest of the proceedings - funeral songs, prayers, tributes and directions to stand before the camera for a final shot with the dead man - would be blared on loudspeakers.

I did not go to pay my tributes - once you are married off you are not a citizen of your village - but I got to hear it all.

Nature cried too as Kittu ammavan made his final journey to the cemetery. The skies opened up in an unprecedented fury while the earth opened up to receive his cold, white body.