Train to Kerala

I relish going to the Central Railway Station here, a colonial relic, to see off guests taking the night train to Kerala. There is a sense of sadness and nostalgia as we bid goodbye to relatives on a short visit to Madras, and increasing the yearning to visit our native land in Kerala.

In fact, I love to go to in the mornings to receive my guests, but I rarely get to do that since V goes alone while I spruce up the house and get the breakfast ready.The crowd fills me with a little awe and fear, and I cant say I love the mini-India I see there - people from across the country waiting for their trains, some on the waiting chairs, some settling down on the floor over a bedspread, speaking their varied tongues and partaking their varied cuisine, packed separately for each meal of the day. Some even manage a bath or a laundering under the public taps, and the parochial me wrinkles my forehead and look the other way.

The easy entry that a Rs.3 platform ticket can gain makes it easy for any number of non-passengers - half a dozen relatives to see off a single person, touts, coolies, authorised and unauthorised hawkers - jostle for space with passengers. The sweet voice of the lady announcer regularly directs one where and when one's train can be located. The faint stale smell of packed fish wafts through the air as one hurries past the unreserved compartments, which are packed to the brim like sardines in a fish basket.

With the usual delay that characterises work in a newspaper office, I did not expect to see my guests before the 8 p.m. train departed yesterday. But I just about managed the trip to the station and the long walk to coach no. S-11 in about 12 minutes and even a 3-minute chat with my s-i-l Renee. She is leaving for the Gulf with her daughter and husband, and we are not likely to see them for another year. Well, maybe until February when V plans to visit his brother and family during the Dubai shopping festival.

From ash bday 5

The kids were extremely dejected when their dear Uppapa and cousin Minukutty left. They had had two days of fun playing non-stop. This time the two girls formed a league and ousted my little boy from some of their games. They refused to play with him if he snatched a bat or a ball from one of them. Even his bicyle became their monopoly.
Eating out and the non-veg fare at home for the guests made Ash's skin worse once again. With the result that he had to skip school and we have to be strict with his diet once again.
So much so that the maid had to whisper to the guests yesterday noon that the karimeen fry for them was kept away in the kitchen away from Ash's eyes. But nothing misses his eye. He went and told his aunt: "Ammama has kept fish for you in the kitchen. I dont want it. I had pavakka (bitter gourd) fry and cabbage for my lunch."
"So cute of him," Renee told me as she narrated the incident. I was near tears.
The train soon chugged out of the station. I'm not the sentimental type, so V is surprised to see a tear-stained cheek. I tell him it is Ash.
V consoles me. "Dont worry, he came and had a little fish and chicken from my plate."

As we walk back, I am careful not to look at the tracks - where rats scurry past and faeces from the open toilets in the train remain an eyesore. I pity the scavengers who have to clean up the tracks the next morning, and wonder when we will have toilets that wont spill its contents at railways stations at least.

Snacking tales

Each day after I return from work, I examine Ash's schoolbag to check if he has any homework to do, if there is enough liquid paraffin in the bottle (his class ayah is regularly bribed to apply it on him when his skin turns dry) and if he has emptied his snackbox.
Sometimes there is a biscuit or two left, but of late none. We have progressed from boring Marie biscuits, better known as the arrowroots biscuits, to Good day Butter biscuits and some sesame-seed-topped bakery biscuits. So he is happy.
Long back the teacher had told me that it made her sad to see him eat just Marie biscuits or banana chips, and so she would make him sit near her so that he didnt grab any taboo food from his classmates. He would often tell me to pack for him a few cream biscuits, cake or noodles, just to show his peers that he ate them too.
"Please pack Good day biscuits," he told me one day. "All the children bring Good day biscuits." The next day, he tells me, that Kishore (who seems to be his best friend) fought with him for his biscuits. I dont beleive all his tales, but I enjoy the details. The teacher, he tells me, eats biscuits too but not cream biscuits.
Another day he reproaches me: "Amma, you forgot to send me a napkin." The children have to spread a napkin on their desks and place the tiffin box over it to prevent messing up.
Of late, I have been packing some murukku specially procured from Kerala, though he doesnt seem to be very fond of them now. He tells me that he sits next to Tarun, who seems to like the murukku. So he barters his murukku for Tarun's noodles or cream biscuits.

Nowadays, I remember to pack a little extra for that little boy who seems to love the ari murukku from Kerala.

A bonhomie at home

I took a day off work to attend the function in Mira's school. Before we went for it, we dropped Ash in school. I guess it made him feel great to have his mother in her bright blue sari escort him to his classroom. So when I went to pick him, he came running to me with a "Mommy" cry.
Even though we (me and V) call our mothers mommy, I dont take kindly to being called mommy. We had made a conscious effort to return to our roots by making our kids call us by the Malayalam variants of father, mother, uncle, aunt etc. and not the anglicised versions that we 'learnt' to call our parents. Ash promised me later that day that he'd call me Amma :)
The next day he beseeched me to stay at home again and take him to school. Guess children like to have their moms at home to pamper them. Mira has been telling V that she likes Amma to be at home to receive her when she returns from school. This mother-children bonhomie is beginning to surprise V, who until recently was the centre of their attention.
"What have you done with them? I hope you are not turning them against me." he asks worried. I dont know myself. But I guess it has got partly to do with me spending more time with them in recent times - telling them stories, answering their umpteen queries, sharing their passion for music and rhymes etc. Ash laps up every word as I explain the meaning of a rhyme, a chapter from his Children's Bible or explain the working of a gadget.
He even has a rhyme ready for each occasion. When I prepare to leave for work, it is "Mommy's gone to London to buy a pretty hat..." and when he sees a bridge it is "Is that London bridge is falling down?" Each spider is "Incy Wincy"and each cow belongs to "Ol' Mcdonald".
I cant remember them all, but at times he takes me by surprise.

Little stars

At the annual day in Mira's school today afternoon... with the IInd year BSc Nutrition students of WCC after the programme, alone in her specially tailored dress, with her teachers, and singing hymns (left on the 2nd row).

The function lasted an hour and had - apart from the customary welcome note, vote of thanks, a couple of speeches by the college dignitaries - the children take part in a few rounds of singing, dance to the tune of "Five Little Ducks went swimming one day" (dressed like five bright yellow ducks) and later an African number (in tribal outfits) and a fat little boy sing "Old Macdonald had a farm" with some prompting from his teacher. While some kids looked extremely confident and comfortable with the whole show, some looked unsure and miserable (that lil boy on the extreme right in the bottom picture bawled loudly throughout the song session). But the audience, mostly the proud parents and their relatives, enjoyed their performance or lack of it. It made me misty-eyed as I watched tiny tots in the 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 age group perform under the watchful eyes and quiet prodding of the teachers.

To V's alarm, Mira looked the smallest among them all. She seemed to sing out loudly, and a couple of folks told me as we walked out that "she was full of life" and "sang well". She didnt recite the verses as she never got round to learn beyond the first sentence. While Hitansh (the 2nd boy from the left in the front row), the son of the Gujarathi lady I made friends with when I went to collect the application form for the nursery last year, confidently recited a couple of verses. We have ordered a DVD of the programme.

The girls of the Home Science dept, displaying their anorexic figures in brown silken kurtas, had arranged and anchored the programme. Mira told me the chechis dressed her up and coloured her lips. Looking at them, I knew why college girls called me, with my unmaskable mummy figure and visage, an aunty. It irritates me no end.

As the head of the dept of Home Science said, some of the little girls would come back to study in the college 12 years later. And some boys return to invite their teachers for their wedding or to just meet them. Someday Mira will realise that she was part of a special experience, being part of the laboratory nursery school of the WCC.

Many parents came with a baby in their arms. Which meant their wards were the elder siblings. Ash, who has his school in the afternoons these days, did not attend. We left the college in time to pick him up from school.

The debates

One morning, Ash woke early and went up to the window to have a look outside. He heard the crows and the other birds and the hawkers, and cried out to me: "Look Amma, it is morning. Look Vaava, raavile aayee."
Mira studied the light outside with half-closed, half-sleepy eyes and said: No, ithu vaikitta (This is evening). A debate ensued, with Mira insisting that it was evening and Ash shouting that it was morning. It drove him mad and in the end he began crying. Mira stood her ground, savouring the argument.
That's how she is. Unruffled and mentally stronger than her older brother. She loves to irritate him. Not only that. She is beginning to boss over him. "Ashin, get me that" or "Keep this plate in the kitchen" etc etc. And he does as she says. The only thing he refuses to do is keep away his shoes in the shoerack. Which the lil sister thinks is her duty. She faithfully arranges it inside the cabinet.
I guess she will soon be taking care of him than the other way round. Though we have been telling Ash that he has to take care of his lil sister next year in school.
Meanwhile, the long-legged dolly at home has a new name - Tarana vaava. The kids pretend it is their newest cousin and is busy taking care of her and makes her sleep in between them.

Tailpiece: Ash, while savouring a glass of watermelon juice on Saturday: "How does red-colour juice come out as yellow-color urine?" We have been telling him that he needs to increase his liquid intake to improve his urine output.

Chameleon

I am changing the blog look once again, since my bro tells me that some of his friends found it was difficult to read on the light grey background.
This time, the change was achieved courtesy V, who has a much better sense of colour and order than me. Though unfamiliar with the blog terrain, once he got down to it he got very interested and gave me a satisfactory color combo. I must get him to sketch something for the header.
***
Meanwhile the maid is acclimatising well. She is a typical old-world type from Kerala - chews betel leaf at least 5 times a day and wears a lungi-blouse-towel combo after an initial attempt to survive the Chennai weather in synthetic saris. The kids initially found her attire strange, and insisted that she wear something else but have now got used to her.
They get along well with her and she relishes their company too. Only, once I reach home Mira changes colour. "I like only Amma, enikku ammame ishtamalla," with a stress on the last word. But the moment I leave for work, she tells the lady: "I like you a lot!"
She continues to be a tomboy and a terror at home but outside, she is quiet and well-behaved. To the teacher's "Good Morning Miriam" in the morning when she reaches school, she replies with a salute and not a word. The teacher assures me she mingles well with the other children.

Just last week, Deepa, my co-worker, whose daughter also happens to go to the same school, came over to me in the canteen.
"I just had to tell you this. It was my daughter's birthday and we cut a cake in school. Your daughter ate her share so neatly with a spoon, while all the other children made a mess of themselves. And then she ran off to play. My mom [a doctor], wanted to know who that lil girl was."
I am surprised. She expects one of us to feed her at home. Tantrums are meant for the home turf.

The friends

As I pack my lunch in the morning, Ash asks me: "Amma, are you going to office to eat?"
Yeah! I function like a government employee most often.
The next question is easier. "Amma, what is your sir's (teacher's) name?
I give my boss's name.
Ammede kootumarante perentha? (What is your friend's name?)
I ask the question to him in return.
Achachente schoolil kootumaran illa, only piller. For him, all his peers are kids while he remains the Achachen.
I tell him he stop calling himself Achachen (big brother). "You are Mira's Achachen, my Achin and Appa's Achukuttan."
"But my teacher calls me Asmin Daniel." He imitates the roll call in the class. He is No. 2.
He also knows the names of some of the piller in class. Jerin George, Kishore, Anjali... The first two seem to be his favorites. And Anjali, he tells V, is his girlfriend.
There she is, giving a very coquettish side glance on their Sports Day :)

From Kiddies' Sports day '08

Mira too can identify her classmates in the class group snap. Until now, she could/would not give me any of their names. Her school is preparing to wind up for this academic year (it will close on the 31st) and hence the class photo. There is also the school anniversary programme coming up on the 25th. We have been asked to teach her a Bible verse in English, and get her a pair of white shoes and frilly socks. The school will make a dress for her to wear at the function.

I have not been very successful in teaching her the verses, "Jesus is the only way to God. Those who beleive in him belong to him" since she doesnt speak any English except 'No' and 'Stop'. A two-day effort has meant that she can say "Jesus only way to Goal." I can go to the next sentence only when she gets the first right. And I hope I can manage it before the 25th. God help me!

The namesake

There is a new baby boy in the apartment directly below ours. Coincidentally he is February-born, is called Ashwin and was born under the same star. On Friday, his grandma came to invite us to celebrate his homecoming on Saturday. I mean, for over a month after his birth, the baby had been at his mother's parents' place.

I went alone, because I couldnt take Mira alone without Ash's knowledge. V stayed back thinking it was a hen's party.

The baby was asleep in his crib when I reached. He reminded me of Ash when he was an infant - puny and brown and quiet. I made small talk with his mother and the other ladies in the block. Apparently the function was something to do with shifting him to a cot, and had a name to that effect. I didnt watch the actual ceremony, brief as it was and the venue surrounded by zealous relatives. But I trotted down for the ensuing dinner despite an already full tummy. Idli-sambar-chutney and chapati-korma and some sweets - most of which had a home-made flavour to it. I reserved my share of the strawberry icecream for the kids. Once upon a time my mom used to smuggle home cake slices wrapped in butter paper that she got at wedding feasts. I am learning too.

The next day, after church, we decided to take the kids out to the park and to visit the shop nearby to look for a neat gift for Ash's teacher. (We hope to give it at the end of the term as a token of our gratitude for her caring ways to Ash). The kids trooped down with the maid while I made last-minute preparations - napkins, water, spare clothes etc for the kids. As I locked the door I could hear V talking in the flat downstairs. I walked down to find Ash peering into the baby's crib in the drawing room while V chatted with its father and grandparents.
"Is the baby sleeping?" I asked his father. "No, his mother is giving him a bath," he mumbled. Or was it a feed?
Once out of their apartment, V chided me for letting Ash out of the house without escort. The maid and Mira had gone down to the car park, while Ash seemed to linger behind for his dad's company. And seeing the door of the neighbour's house open and a baby in there, he had walked in to have a look. Apparently, according to V who followed Ash, the new mother bolted out of the room with the baby and locked herself in the bedroom upon seeing Ash. They probably didnt want the baby to catch eczema! As if it is a contagious disease!
We drove out quietly, upset as each of us adults were about our carelessness. The kids chattered happily in anticipation of the slide and the see-saw in the park.

Books and bonding

Spotting a Crossword store at a petrol station on his way to school, Ash said: "Amma, let's go in there and get Usha aunty's CD."

"Some other time. Now we have to get to school."

V, who has his eyes on the road, asks what it is.

"A new book store at the petrol pump," I tell him.

"I think your son will soon be a good reading chum for you. And Mira will take after me," V tells me prophetically.

I am already thinking of taking him to British Council Library when he is old enough to read on his own. An idea given by a friend.

Once upon a time, dad used to take me and my brother to the state library in Dares-salaam, Tanzania. But most of the time he would get books on his own and I read whatever that came. The ones on Greek and Roman mythologies were repeats and often overlapped, but it helped to remember the stories better. Even before that, he would get me books from his college library. Most of my reading has been his consideration, his thought, his gift. I hope I can do Ash a similar service.

Sang-sung

As the Samsung technician teach me the basics of operating the new washing machine, he asks me: "Does sir work with Samsung?" He is surprised to come across a Samsung pc monitor, aircon, refridgerator and microwave oven. "'Sir" is away at work, and I struggle to grasp the mechanics of the machine while the kids make a nuisance of themselves amidst all this.

"No," I smile, but we have been pretty happy with the Korean company products. Our first Samsung product was a 14 inch TV, which served us in good stead, until we went for a bigger one when we shifted to our own house. It now serves my dad back in Kerala, who needs to watch newsbulletins endlessly, but couldnt in the evenings when my mom watched her favorite soaps on Malayalam channels.

Sam sung! Sing-sang-sung

A new launderer

We prove yet again that we are hardcore Samsung consumer durables' fans. A Samsung washing machine has made its entry home today and is waiting for the technician to come and open it so that its users can be taught how best to manage it in Chennai conditions (read borewater/hardwater).
Since the partimer didnt turn up to take up her laundry duties, V was forced to bring home a washing machine following my and his parents' prodding. We looked up a few models on Sunday while I persisted with my mera wali pink, a pink-tinged top-loading Samsung model I had come across some months back. My pink machine was nowhere on display and a couple of Ag+ technology ones had taken its place, so we decided to go for this medium-range one and ignore the saleman's advice to buy an IFB frontloading one. I somehow dont like frontloading ones - frightening caves they are - and we didnt want to invest in a high-end, steel tub model that would rust in Chennai waters.
My inlaws left yesterday night, and the maid is keeping guard - of the two cubs - on her own today. V called me at lunch time to say that the maid and the kids have hit it off well. Until yesterday, Mira would quip occasionally: "I like the other ammama who went away in the train. I dont like this ammama." She would refuse to let her help her with anything when I was around except when she was in a good mood. She probably didnt find the betel-leaf chewing old lady glamorous enough!
I have hope now. Here I have a lady who loves children and loves to play with them unlike most maids I have had earlier. I hope she will decide to come back in June when the children return to Chennai after their 2-month vacation in Kerala. She is already talking about coming back, though mil had sent her to us on a one-month rescue mission. I only hope she doesnt get bored or homesick when she is away from God's Own Country for too long.

Old new wine

The night of 28th seemed strange to us - it is not often that we get the house to ourselves without the stifling though utilitarian presence of a live-in maid. The maid left, with a tinge of sorrow and tearful eyes as she bid Mira goodbye (Ash being asleep at the time of her departure), since she had been with us for over a year. She came here a skeleton, a victim of domestic violence from a drunkard spouse, and left healthy and strong, a strength doubled by the economic independence that a regular income, free boarding and lodging and a safe shelter brought. I hope her next assignment brings her more luck.

Things have been a lil hectic at home ever since the old maid left and the new one made her entry on March 1 with my inlaws. She is yet to settle down, so me and mil have been chipping in and I just about manage to depart for work at 1.45 pm (being on the evening shift this week, thankfully). Ash also has classes from 2 to 4.30 pm, so that gives me just enough time to give him his medicines, his oil massage and bath, his food not to mention getting him to do his homework, getting his uniform ironed and assembled, handling tantrums and fights in between, and remember to apply his eye and nose drops and his various medicines (as Ash would say, "Medicines for my eyes, my nose, my mouth, my sotthu and my chumbi). Mira who has a bad cough has been skipping school, so playtime and battle scenes quickly follow each other. She is turning out to be the more authoritative and autocratic sibling.

The new maid, Vilasini, is an old lady in her 50s who seems loving though she was homesick and snappy the first two days. She is dreadfully slow but her cooking is pretty good and not wasteful. I have requested the services of my old partimer Kala for doing the laundry since she seems incapable of handling too many things. V has decided to shelve washing machine plans once again since water scarcity is being felt with the onset of summer. He says he'd rather give a needy person a job than buy a machine on a loan :)

Ash and the Tigger

A belated celebration yesterday evening.