Shoes in your armpit

Bagal mein jootha 
tha tha tha

May be it's my Hindi to English translation of this Bollywood song. But that's what the lyrics say. Shoes in your armpit. And Vivian is independently corroborating by tucking her hands in her pits and dancing in the picture.

We don't have pictures from Vivian's school concert yet. There was an official still photographre and three video cameras with one mounted on a big rolling boom crane at the concert. So one day we will have good pictures. But till then we'll have to make do with this photo from the home-made set that Vivian created in the dining room after lunch today.

The day of the concert was a school holiday. We relaxed. The kids took a nap. Then Jo did Vivian's hair (see More Curly) and we left home quietly at 4:45pm while Evan was fast asleep in Savitri's care. The concert was to start at 5pm sharp. It started at 5:43 pm. There were 46 acts - all combined in one twisted fairy tale. Vivian's was about four-fifths into it. The auditorium was large and packed. It probably sat a couple of thousand people. Including Jo and Sahiti and myself.

We thought Vivian did wonderfully. She was on top of her game. She was poised and enthusiastic and controlled and flamboyant and smiling and serious and hit every step just right. The dance was set to Jai Ho, a song from the movie Slumdog Millionaire. During practice her teachers taught them to remember when to do what steps by reminding them of the associated words in the lyrics. Most five year olds in Hyderabad understand enough Hindi to recognize the words. For Vivian they were just sounds.  But she knew every one of her transitions and timed them perfectly. We were proud parents.

On the way out after the show Jo met another mom from Vivian's class. That mom "Vivian danced very well". Jo politely "Oh Karishnu did well too". Other mom "yes he did ok. But nothing like Vivian. Vivian danced so well".

Before the end of the concert Sharath came home to keep Evan company.  Then we celebrated with a Chinese dinner where Evan eventually gave into Sahiti's persistence - after holding out for eight months!

As far as dance and the performing arts are concerned Vivian has passion by the truckloads and perhaps even some ability. My challenge is to stop Vivian and Jo from boarding the next flight to LA to start looking for an agent.

Sixer!!

The other evening after Vivian's dance concert we went for dinner with the Choudary's to Chinese Pavilion. When we came out there was a man on a motorcycle asking for directions. We got a photo with our iPhones politely and discretely from a distance. Can you make out all six people?

Son on petrol tank up front. Then dad driving. Then middle daughter and older daughter. Then wife  covered in black burka (with golden sandals) sitting side saddle and holding youngest daughter. They are on their way somewhere - everyone is dressed up and look their best. Back in America this would barely qualify as a motorcycle - more of a moped. Here it's the pride of the family, the fuel-efficient family transport. I love my peeps!

Happy people

This evening we took some pictures with Savitri and her family. Savitri has been our maid and babysitter for the last several months. She lives downstairs in a one room apartment that opens into the parking garage. There is a common bathroom at one end for all the families. Here's a picture I posted somewhere on this blog sometime back. Evan is sitting on Savitri's lap and she is feeding him.

Savitri's husband works as a security guard at a construction site next door. Her older daughter is Shravani who wants to design clothes some day. Her younger daughter Subu (Subhashani) likes to skip school and watch TV at home. She almost lost her foot to infection. Timely (and free) intervention by Dr. Sahu, my old classmate from HPS, has saved her foot. She still has a way to go before full recovery.

When they found that we were leaving Hyderabad, they expressed their disappointment. Ventakesh, Savitri's husband said that if we had stayed a little longer we would have "changed the course of my family". Their combined salary is Rs. 8000 per month. That is $160. They don't pay rent or utilities. The kids education is free, but there are expenses for uniforms and books and supplies. Yesterday Jo and I took some friends out for dinner and we spent roughly two months of their salary.

Towards the end of each month they run out of money. Then they manage on rice and dal (lentils) twice a day. Which they are happy to share with my kids. This morning Savitri brought us a bowl of puliyogare rice (tamarind rice). Though babysitting is included in her salary, I tip Savitri every time. She has refused the money often. "You are doing so much for my family already, Sir." Here's a picture of the shrine in their room.

They are happy - one of the happiest families I've ever meet. I've never seen them not smiling broadly. I've never seen them arguing with each other or with anyone else. Or sulking. Every morning Savitri knocks on the door and when we open it she has a cheerful "Namaste Sir" and "Namaste Madam" for us. We see them often. The car we use in Hyderabad is parked next to their room. Whenever we come or go, Evan and Vivian run into their room or their children come out running to greet our kids. Their door is always open and the flimsy curtain is no barrier for Evan. Savitri especially requested a picture of Madam with her. She shyly asked Madam to put an arm on her shoulder.

 Savitri is illiterate.  She speaks two languages (Telegu and Hindi). But she can't even write her name in Telegu. Her daughters speak in fluent if not great English. She doesn't know much about Hyderabad. The rest of India is a mystery. And outside India there's only one place where white people live. London. I've tried telling her we live in America. But that's meaningless. So she asks about life in London.

We have an electronic photo frame at home loaded with pictures of Vivian from Austin (we had got it for my dad a few years ago). Savitri has studied it carefully. She has asked me who is this and that. But the other day she asked me who the kala bache (black children) were. I told her they were Vivian's cousins. Questioning frown. I explained further. Madam's sister had adopted them. Five. Soon to be six. She was surprised. "There are people like that in London?" She said that she's seen people who look like that and they live down the street from us. She said she had no idea they were from London.

There are a lot of African college students in Hyderabad. As background I tried to explain Africa and the history of slavery in American in one sentence. She nodded. I don't know how much sense it made. But she did understand one thing - she said with amazement and wonder "Six!?" Motherhood and it's joys and pains are universal. In Hyderabad. And London.

So again

Time to say good bye to So, our favorite lush green Brazilian jazz playing rooftop restaurant in Hyderabad. When we started going there, we'd be the only people when we got there and when we left. Tonight there wasn't a single empty table. The waiter seated us and ordered two Shirley Temples and a plate of garlic bread for the kids.  And there was a live singer who introduced Vivian to the crowds and sang a song for her to dance to.

It was a lovely summer night with a nice breeze on the rooftop. The kids behaved themselves splendidly. We were home by 9:30pm and no one quite knew what to do this early. I'd say just as it's time to leave, we are settling in.

More Curly

A couple of weeks ago Jo braided Vivian's hair in many tight little braids when it was wet. And then let it out before school next morning so Vivian had curly hair. She loved it. The first picture is from then.

Turns out her teachers loved it. One day when we went to pick Vivian up, Shoana Teacher (we finally saw her name spelled, so we know what it is now) asked if for her dance performance we could "crimp or do whatever you did to her hair that other day".

Jo improved on the procedure further and here are the results. Amazing.

Back to reality

It took some work to pry Jo and Vivian away and back home. They would have been perfectly happy to spend their last few days in Hyderabad by a pool at a hotel. Evan grew up some more. He picks his own t-shirts now and brings them to you. When it's this one (thanks, Alu & michelle), he proudly declares "Dawg. Shhhir". And when we ran out of swim diapers for him at the hotel, we just popped him on the potty and he pooped like a champ.

This was the view from our window. Yes - that's the pool - lined with burnt largish white people. But I'd like to point out the boulders. They are small chunks of granite that chipped off the large blocks. They are about ten to fifteen feet high. When we were kids we'd climb and run and play on boulders like this all day. At home, at school, at friend's homes. Boulders and huge slabs of granite. That's what my memories of Banjara Hills are made of. So this morning after breakfast Jo and Vivian and Evan and I climbed the pile of boulders to the left of the photo. Others stared.

And if you looked up instead of down at the pool, this s what you'd see. That's what a typical street in Hyderabad looks like. Not! This is in an office park and these buildings are filled with staff from Deloitte and Novartis and IBM and Accenture. This part of Hyderabad didn't exist till a few years ago. Your job gets outsourced to places like this.

On the way back home Jo spotted a fiver at the Jubilee Hills checkpost traffic signal. We got stuck in traffic and had to catch up with them so she could take this photo. We see them all the time but we don't usually have a camera.

A couple of days back Jo noticed three teenagers on a motorcycle. As they approached an intersection with a policeman, the last kid slid off the bike and ran after his friends who rode on through. On the other side they stopped and he hopped on again. Jo raised a questioning eyebrow. It's illegal in Hyderabad for more than two people to ride on a two wheeler. Unless they are small children. Then I don't know what the limit is, because we have seen a family of six a couple of times.

Vacation in Hyderabad

I don't like made up words like "staycation". So I won't use it. But that's what we are doing. We are at this hotel in the nerdy part of Hyderabad (I snagged a couple of pictures from their website). We checked in and swam and napped and then went down for dinner to Prego - the Italian restaurant. We  eaten lunch here once months ago. Back then after we finished lunch we found Vivian sitting on the bar and chatting with the manager, chef, and four waiters who were plying her with gelato.

This evening when we walked in everyone greeted us with "Hello, Sir. Long time?". We sat out by the pool and enjoyed a nice dinner. The kids sat at another table and watched a cartoon on the iPad (Steve Jobs - I thank you many times each day).

Then Vivian left with the waiters. A bit later when I checked on her she was back on the bar chatting with the staff. One showed me a picture of her on his iPhone from the last visit - he had entertained her with majic tricks back then.

After we finished, a waiter from another restaurant at the hotel stopped by and gave Vivian a bracelet. It was a handmade lacquer bangle. So we walked into this other restaurant and found a craftsman who sits and makes these bangles for patrons right there - with a little coal stove and all. We asked Vivian to thank him. And he said "Welcome. Good luck on your concert Vivian." And to us "She dances very well".

Alarms bells back in Austin

Jo got an email from ADT (our home alarm service provider back in Austin) to rate their service during the last alarm event. Which promted her to enquire what the last alarm event was. To which she received the following reply from one of the two ladies currently living there.

Depending on which day it was...it was probably one of the several days we improperly set the alarm and had it go off during our workout and thus missed the calls from ADT and eventually the cops were dispatched. That actually only happened once I believe. I paid the city fee for the police. The other times we answered and told them it was our error. I also think the dogs have figured out how t [....I wonder what followed here - the rest of the sentence was deleted no doubt by said dogs before the email arrived in Jo's inbox]

Otherwise the event might have been the battery breakdown.
We have also succeeded in setting off the smoke alarm nearly weekly while cooking bacon.

Jo and I rarely managed to set off the alarms (there was that incident with Tim and the cops). So I was rolling with laughter when Jo read the reply to me.

Watch out Bollywood

For the last few weeks Vivian has been practicing for her school concert. We changed our departure date from Hyderabad to accommodate said concert. In the beginning the moves were secret. Then she started sharing bits and pieces. Then came the singing. Which Jo used to determine the name of the song - Jai Ho from Slumdog Millionaire.

Turns out that other friends are dancing to two other songs, and by listening and watching she has learned those too. The names of these were harder to decipher. She referred to one as ibn toota joota joota. Yesterday Partha decoded that as a song called Ibn-e-battuta from the movie Ishqiya and Sharath pulled the video from youtube and showed it on his iPhone and Vivian danced to it. 


And today we confirmed that the one she referred to as unke haar haar is the song Chale Chalo from the movie Lagaan (the second line in the lyrics are "unke haar haan" - may they lose).


So this afternoon Vivian wore her costume and Jo turned up the music and Vivian danced to all three songs. While Evan alternated between providing comic relief and being a very appreciative fan.

Let sleeping dogs lie

Evan has a congested chest. He wheezes like an old man and his nose streams snot like a fountain of youth. This morning he woke up early but went back to sleep on my chest, only waking up periodically to change positions when too much snot accumulated at a given spot on my t-shirt. I fell asleep too.

House cleaning

We are giving away toys and clothes that we have accumulated in India. Including Evan's new trike and Vivian's scooter. Vivian dashes around the house in her scooter. She runs errands on it and zips around us. Evan gives Vivi rides on his trike and calls it his carie (car).

Sub-trash-can

Vivian can't say "subtraction" but is doing it at school. She prefers "sub-trash-can" and reasons that she can call it that because you have to throw some part of it in the trash can when you subtract. And the other day she did her first "crossword". When it comes to drawing, Yaseen is still her favorite buddy.

 Yesterday I asked "So Vivian, sometime soon you are going to write sentences." And she replied "Already, Dad. Today at school I wrote a lad has a sip of milk." She's learning so fast I can't keep up with it. Earlier tonight Jo and I were making plans and she said that may be we should have dinner with Tiki without the k-i-d-s. Vivian smiles are says "kids?".

Media center

Or is it a "home theater"? The kids clamber up on upturned trash cans to peer at Pooh shows on an upright iPad. Ignorance is bliss.

Curly

Last Wednesday was picture day at school. Her school uniform consists of a red skirt and a white t-shirt (with the school logo / emblem on both). Her t-shirt didn't look white any more. So on Tuesday we bought Vivian a new t-shirt. That was my contribution to picture day.

Vivian wanted curly hair for her picture. On Tuesday night she showered and Jo braided her hair into a dozen tiny tight braids. On Wednesday morning when the braids were undone she had curly hair.

She was quite sure that her teachers wouldn't recognize her when she walked into her class room.

Going to bed

Vivian, can you go brush your teeth?

Mommy,  really? seriously?

Yes - really seriously.

Mommy, I don't want to freak you out but I was planning on taking my time to get ready for bed.

Thank you, Aunt Jo

Aunt Jo - thanks for the balloons and stickers for Evan and me. And the princess card. We love you.

-Vivian & Evan

[Aunt Jo is Jo's aunt. Their names are not coincidentally similar.]

Mother of all snacks

The ides of March were our last snack day at Vivian's school. We had been sending 40 butter and jam sandwiches and a fruit salad om our monthly snack days. Vivian claims that the other kids like the sandwiches. But we've noticed from our keen questioning of Vivian every day after school that sandwiches seem to be on the rise. Other moms were stealing our thunder.

So Jo went balls to the wall. She sat up till 1am and made banana muffins. Forty two of them using one 6-muffin pan and a tiny microwave convection oven that took 25 minutes per batch. And only two eggs (not out of concern for chickens or eggs but because that's all that were left at home and I was snoring soundly). And she peeled pomegranates and sliced Bangalore Blue grapes (so the kids don't choke) and made an amazingly color-coordinated fruit salad.

Rat Tails

Sabs gave Vivian and Jo hair wraps in Goa. I prefer calling them rat tails. Vivian looks cool in school with hers. There are tiny bells at the end of the rat tails. They jingle very lightly. Yesterday we asked Vivian to quietly open the door to Evan's room while he was napping. She carefully wrapped her hand around the end of the tail so the bells wouldn't jingle and wake Evan up.

Evan came close to getting a mohawk. How close? Sim had the trimmer in her hand and her hand within inches of Evan's hair. He didn't like it so he didn't get a mohawk.

One seat

Transportation in Goa consisted of a Mahindra 340 (Jeep), a small Maruti Swift, and a moped. For 16 people. We usually hung out in the back seating area of the Jeep. But on a couple of occasions, we were in the Swift. That's when we determined that our whole fam can comfortably sit on one seat (front passenger). We start with Evan. Then Vivian. Then Jo. And finally me. Or did I get that backwards?

Pool

I like days when the toughest question is "pool or beach?"

We had to switch to iced nescafe with ice cream once Geetz drank all the rum at the hotel bar. Then Evan got adventurous in the "cage" area of the pool and feel in. I had to fish him back out and he didn't seem the slightest bit perturbed.

Beach

We are a beach kind of family. The kids settle down and spend hours keeping themselves occupied. Or jump over the breakers and hang with us in the shallows.

This year we went to the beach on holi. Sim and Geetz and Sabs had organized organic food-grade dry colors. We played holi and swam. Then Vivian lay down on the warm sand and was hand-fed strawberries. This is the good life.

Pilani zero

Someone from my alma matter, BITS Pilani, recently made a Kolavari De about Pilani and put it on youtube. It's cheesey as it should be and it put a smile on my face. It had several stills - I liked this one the best. An old school milestone saying that you have arrived.

Growing up in Goa

Till now Evan has resisted saying the ends of words. "Foo" being his most famous and frequent utterance. In the multi-syllabic department, for months he's said sau-sa, thunk-yu, and chok-it (sausage, thank you and chocolate for infrequent readers of this blog), but nothing else.

Not anymore. Now it's a stream of fully formed words. It started in Goa and has grown and continued back in Hyderabad. Evan didn't take a nap this morning (by design):
Jo to me: "he's on baby crack".
Evan to the world "Baby. Crack".

He repeats everything, specially two word statements. The first word has a rising infliction. Then long pause. Then a falling infliction for the second word. "Banana. Tree". Like uptalk and backward-uptalk (downtalk?).

Then there's this other thing. He potty trained himself in Goa. One fine day he asked for help to hop up on to the potty: "Potty". We asked him if he was done after he peed. "No". Then he pooped. He's repeated the same performance for the last two days in Hyderabad. I guess he got tired waiting for his parents. "I can do this shit" he told himself.

Violin at the Night Market

Goa's beaches are almost as famous as it's night market - the Anjuna Saturday Night Market, that is. The kids took a nap on Saturday afternoon and everyone loaded into cars and cabs and drove off to the market at nightfall.

And everyone else in north Goa was already there or on their way there. Hippies and hipsters and beach bums and locals in their Saturday night best. Bands played. Cocktail glasses clinked. Food was cooked and bought and consumed in large quantities and varieties - German bakeries, Punjabi tandoors, a wall of rotisserie cookers slowly cooking hundreds of chickens, middle eastern shawarma and tzatziki, Belgian waffles and chocolate, pad thai with a fried egg on top.

In the middle of all this was Sabs and Sim's Azaad Bazaar stall and Bad Ass Hair salon and Sab's hand-made very cool steam punk jewelry. Vivian and I took up residence there. Sabs trained Vivian in the art of selling and pretty soon she was doing quite a job of bringing in new customers ("Hello there - come and see what we have here") and selling ("this is very nice and it's on sale tonight"). 

Then Simran did something very brave. Something she had said she was going to do. She unpacked her violin that she had hand-carried all the way on her lap from Austin, Texas. And she set up an upturned hat on a chair beside her and she started to play. Vivian immediately did what she told us she would do - she started dancing in front on Simran. 

In moments there was a crowd of people listening and watching and tipping. At one time I counted four cameras trained on Simran and Vivian.

The old folks and me (or is that redundant?) and the kids headed back to the hotel at about 11pm. A sleeping Evan was transferred from Jo's carrier to Jeane's lap in the cab without as much as a twitch of an eyelid. Simran and the others stayed on till closing time - 1pm. She made over $70 in tips - that's a lot of rupees. And she had a great time.

Sims

The trip to Goa was about Simran. The one that lives in Goa planned it for the other who lives in Austin.

There are sixteen of us here. From slightly less than two years old to eighty. It would be fair to say that eccentricity flourished and yet we all had a wonderful time together. Arjun - you who enjoyed ironies know that this would not have happened had you been alive today. And yet you are here. Both in spirit and in the faces of so many people.

I feel sorry for you

When it was time for lunch at the beach shack in Marbela Beach, Goa, Vivian decided to shed her swimsuit for a black lungi that someone had bought minutes ago from a vendor woman at the beach. With a little costume help from Sabs and camera work from Shaunak, she launched her beach modeling career.

Then it was time for the hardworking crew and model to retire to the beach bar where Vivian tried to teach the Russian bartender to make her a Shirley Temple. You would be surprised at the number of people who came by and said "I feel sorry for you, Dad".