Freaky Friday

I should learn by now not to leave the house on Fridays :-) When I went to pick up Sofia from school and was waiting in front of her school, I heard some drumming. So I turned and saw this guy coming down the street followed by a woman who was drumming. As he got closer I realized that he had a skewer pierced through one side of his mouth and at the other end a lemon was placed on its sharp tip. Lemons (and chillies) are supposed to bring luck and ward off evil. I had just recently seen a documentary on TV about this same piercing ritual, so I immediately took out my camera to take a picture (as a good tourist would do). But in doing so, I attracted his attention and he came straight to me. He stretched out his hand kind of pointing so I thought maybe he wanted me to take another picture of him, but after I did he seemed to be saying something... I had noooo idea. I got kind of scared when I saw his blood shot eyes and his semi aggressive behavior.. so I assumed he wanted money and just to get him to go away I paid him 10 rupees (25 cents)... but he still didn't go away... I was so confused... but soon realized he wasn't doing this for any religious reasons... he was a beggar! He went to other parents caught off guard tapping their shoulders and getting uncomfortably close to all of us. Thankfully the school's security guard shewed him away... and I realized by the look of disgust in his face that this definitely wasn't a "normal" or common thing around here.

I learned later through the internet this this piercing is usually done for a Hindu festival called Thaipusam... it's celebrated mostly by the Tamil community (in Southern India) on the full moon in the Tamil month of Thai (Jan/Feb). Usually they will do these piercings during this thaipusam festival.. but this was July! So, it was most likely not for any religious reasons (I'm guessing). Here's the wikipedia page if you want to learn more.

Blasts in Bangalore

Yesterday was a strange day. Fridays here always seem to have a mix of madness in the air, but yesterday was particularly unusual and frightening at the same time. After picking up Sofia from her school in Koramangala (about 15 minutes drive from our home)... I walked with Sofia a couple blocks away to a small shopping center where they have a Play Zone for children (similar to Chuck-E-Cheese in the States). I had been promising her all week to take her on Friday, so I wanted to keep my word. By coincidence we also bumped into G with two of his friends from work going there for lunch. This was about 1:00 to 2:30 pm. When we were eating lunch, G's friend got a phone call from a friend telling him that there had been a few blasts around Bangalore and to be careful. But he didn't really have much more information than that.

Having lived in Israel, G and I didn't freak out immediately, being somewhat familiar to such intense situations. When we got home the news was reporting 5 or 6 or 7 blasts (depending on which news channel you were watching) around the same time between 1 and 2:30 pm. Thankfully they were all low-intensity handmade timed bombs and out of the many blasts, only 7 were injured and one 32-year-old woman was killed. Two of the blasts were in Koramangala... the worst out of all of them being in Koramangala directly across a popular mall (not the same one we happened to go to!). I think they were all placed in crowded places, mostly at bus stops. Comically when I was watching to news to get some reassurance... they kept showing over and over again a police officer or "the man in charge" repeating that Bangaloreans had nothing to fear and that the situation was contained and under control... and the next picture you see is a "bomb expert" placing a orange bucket over the point where one of the blasts went off!!! My friend Angeli and I were laughing so hard!! Such is India :-)

Apparently there is some speculation that it could be a retaliation effort from the previous week's incident where someone placed pig meat at the door step of a mosque in Bangalore (riots took to the streets soon after). I think that is probably the most likely cause for these blasts... of course there's also the speculation that it was a terrorist thing, but I think if it were an organized terrorist activity, the blasts wouldn't have been low-intensity and most likely they would've aimed to do bigger damage. This seemed to me just to be from some angry amateurs that merely wanted to instill some fear.

Anywho, all is well.. people have been hibernating since the news yesterday and IT companies especially were sending people home to their families. Most things have been canceled, including my parent-teacher meeting that I was supposed to have today. We've decided to play it extra safe and just stay at home today too... which isn't such a bad idea 'cause it forces me to do the "spring cleaning" that I never got a chance to do :-)

Back to see the angels

This was our 3rd or 4th trip to see the beautiful children at Angel's Orphanage. My Aussie friend Lainie came with me again this time... she's a professional photographer and the last time we came together she took nice pictures of most of the children. This time as a parting gift (since she found out a few days before that she was being deported since she accidentally over stayed her tourist visa) she gave them a photo album with all their pictures!! And one big one of all of them together in a matching frame. It was so nice of her and when she gave it to them, it was obvious how surprised and pleased they were to see their own faces in the album.


This time that we came back was different from the other times... when we got out of our taxi... the children ran up to us and mimicked the rhymes and hand rhythms we had taught them the previous visit. Things were also a lot less formal than before. We just hugged the children and played with them and of course took their photos, which always makes them so happy. I was happy myself to finally feel like they had come to trust us and see us as their friends. Sabina, the lady who is in charge of all the children, told me once that they have a lot of visitors but very rarely do they come on a regular basis... like we have come to do. I think that they really appreciate it ... I'm glad.

Here are some shots of them posing for the camera ... and just having fun :-)









This is Grace... the youngest of the bunch (the orphanage has grown to 82 children!!!). She is about Sofia's age. She was brought to the orphanage as an infant by her mother who was really ill and could no longer take care of her. I asked Sabina if any of the children have ever been adopted... she told me this was not that kind of orphanage. When children are brought to her, she just raises them until either they are married off (girls) or go to college (boys). Wow... talk about mothering!!! What a job!!
Sofia's starting to get used to all the attention from the children :-) It's taken a while since she's naturally pretty shy.

Over Tired and Under Caffeinated

I woke up just before the buzzer sounded. It was a quick 6 minutes before it rang through my ears. I slammed my fingers on the snooze button clumsily and quickly decided I didn't want to keep hearing that annoying sound every 10 minutes, so I turned it off.

My body felt weighed down by some invisible force, and it took as much effort to sit up in my bed as it does to coerce an out-of-shape body to lift heavy weights. But I did it.

Sofia's been sleeping later and later every night making it harder every morning to get up and get ready for school. We have to change that.

Already 20 minutes late I got dressed so fast as to inspire my own superhero name and woke Sofia up by the only means possible. I told my groggy-eyed 3-year-old "I'll give you choco pie" (the latest sugar craze in our house!). No sooner had I said that did she open both her eyes and say with a half asleep smile, "OK!"

I sat her on the couch to watch a little cartoon while she joyfully chomped down on her sinfully yummy breakfast treat. I picked out a cute orange plaid skirt with a white shirt and stockings that I bought her over the weekend, but as G and I are noticing more and more, our little chunky monkey has a very fine taste in her clothing and what she likes to wear. So obviously the orange skirt was out. In its place was a longer, princess-flowing blue and white skirt (said skirt also newly purchased). Having neither time nor patience to persuade her that the orange one was just as pretty, I grabbed the blue skirt and put it on her. With almost ninja-like quick movements I succeeded in dressing her from head to toe and whip her shaggy mop of hair into two neat low-hanging pigtails.

With backpack strapped on, she kissed her still sleeping papa and struted over to me with such painfully slow strides that I almost fainted with impatience (patience obviously is not my strongest personal quality).

We rush to the busy Airport Road so packed with morning traffic, and we must've been blessed by Lord Shiva this morning because we found a rickshaw almost instantly that was willing to take us to Koramangala.

The dark clouds hovered with a thick chill making the auto rickshaw ride nippier and more uncomfortable than usual. Glancing down at Sofia's stockings and warm sweatshirt, I was thankful to have dressed her well this morning, unlike myself who was wearing a thin, long-sleeve Indian shirt with jeans and flip flops. I forgot to bring my usual sweatshirt, which would've actually been used today. Damn. Well, there's a lesson to be learned I suppose. Go to sleep earlier!

Anywho, after giving Sofia a goodbye hug and kiss at the front gate of her school before being led to her class, I dragged myself across two lanes of crazy Bangalore traffic, risking life and limb, walking another two blocks away to fill up on a large cup of caffeine and plop myself down on Barista's thankfully unoccupied brown leather bed.... I mean couch :-)

Hello Neighbor!

We have a small corner grocery store in our complex that I often go to ... I go there almost every day or every other day. Yesterday I was just feeling too tired and not in the mood to trek there with my 3-year-old and then something amazing happened! Whoever said laziness was a bad thing didn't know what they were talking about because that's how I found out how to get them to deliver to my door without me having to go downstairs to the security desk to use their "special" phone to call them! For a couple months I've been doing that because someone told me was that I couldn't use my land line phone OR my cell to call them... I had to use one of the complex intercom phones, which only the security guards had. Welll... yesterday I thought, "that can't be right, there must be an easier way!" I tried many different phone combinations from my home phone (putting in, then leaving out, then adjusting the area code) until I finally figured out that I didn't even need to put that in! Hurry for laziness! :)

OK, back to the initial story... I was walking out of my apartment to go get cash so I could pay said grocery store when they arrive at my door step when a really nice lady across the hall opened her door to let her little boy in the house, noticed me and said enthusiastically, "helloooo!". We greeted each other and she invited us in... Sofia was really itching to play with her little boy, so we went in. We bonded quickly and hit it off really well. It was so comfortable and nice chatting with her... both of us trying to catch each other up on our lives as a way of getting to know each other better. She's from Delhi, north India, living here in Bangalore because of work. She recently quit her job when she got pregnant again, and is now a stay-at-home mom just like me! Her husband works for a major Indian airline and since just recently they moved the International airport from 5 minutes away to an hour and a half away, she spends a lot of time alone with her son during the week. She's such an easy-going person and so sweet! We've already made plans to hang out with the kids next week at the bookstore and maybe even today we'll meet up at the playground. I'm really excited about this new friendship and am so thankful that it's come at such a wonderful time :)

The Move

After several disappointingly unsuccessful attempts at finding a new place to live and 5 months of having our bags still half packed.. we have FINALLY found a place to settle down for the remaining half year we're here! Big sigh of relief! For five months we were living in an apartment, but it was more like a hotel... meant only for short term stays (like a few weeks). We're really happy with our new apartment and it is still walking distance from G's work and in the same complex with the pool and playground, which is great for all of us really :) Pics to come shortly.

Peace out! Word. ;-)

How do you walk in high heels???

Who ever thought the day would come when I would seriously consider wearing high-heeled, pointed shoes??? Certainly not me. But alas, that day has arrived. I grew up the youngest of 3... the tomboy, the rebel, perhaps even the black sheep, why not. My fashion sense has always revolved around the idea of comfort and being pleasing to the eye. I've stuck religiously to my hipster flare jeans and of course corduroys too. I've never had a girlie shoe fetish... actually just the opposite. I buy a pair (or two) and stick with them til they literally die! I have always been very particular about the requirements of my shoes too, first having to be comfortable to walk in all day without even having to think about my feet, and also of course, does it look good and could it match most of my outfits! A different colored shoe for a different outfit? Nah... no way! Too much trouble and it just spells out high maintenance. T-shirts and jeans? Yep. That's Faranak. Accessories? ummm... the only added accessory I would have would be one of two belts I own. I have my ears pierced, but it just seems like a sad joke because up until recently they hardly held earrings in them. Necklaces? Usually just one silver one that I would wear every day.

Now that I am nearing 30, married and with a child... I'm feeling a need to update my teenager "style". Maybe being more girlie wouldn't be so bad? Maybe I'd even enjoy it as much as my daughter does. I must confess, my first inspiration in being more girlie?... my 3-year-old daughter who is the epitome of girliness. She is the ultimate princess... and I exaggerate not. She parades around the house most days wearing a dress, hair flowing, lipstick in hand and on lips (which she won't dare risk coming off by giving away kisses!), high heels if she's in the mood, and definitely nail polish on hands AND toes. Where in the world did she learn this stuff? Most certainly not from her tomboyish mother who has from her infancy tried hard to put pants and t-shirts on her! Maybe that's just it... maybe it's the old-age daughter rebellion to do the opposite of what mom says??? Hmmm.. but she's just 3 for goodness sake! Anyhow, she definitely enjoys wearing pretty dresses and showing them to anyone and everyone around (especially her daddy who is her number 1 admirer).

So, since I've been here in Bangalore and I can't really work, and have had way too much time on my hands... I am reconsidering my tomboyish ways and am.. get this... researching on how to be a girl!!! hahahaha! I've seemed to have forgotten even the little I knew since becoming a mother. I even (half-jokingly) bought a book on the matter. It's called "How to Walk in High Heels: The Girl's Guide to Everything" (and it's even colored pastel pink!). I saw it in the bookstore the other week and I just laughed and thought "hey, why not". I've just started it, so I'll have to let you know how it goes. But in the meantime, I'm considering getting my eyebrows threaded... hmmm.

Grinding (and a cup of heavenly coffee)

I had the most delicious cup of coffee I have had since my college years! And it was served in the most unlikely of places... the dentist's office!!! After dropping Sofia off at her school, I went into the city for my 11:00 am appointment with my favorite dentist I've had thus far in my life, Dr. Sanghmitra. She's a very pleasant Indian woman with a short haircut and keen fashion sense (today she was wearing skinny jeans and black backless heels!). Most of her patients are foreigners... Americans, Brits, Aussies, and some Europeans as well. I have yet to bump into an Indian patient of hers but I think she does have some. She has a multi specialty dental office, which I am all too thankful for!!! Back in Chicago I would have to visit 2 or 3 different dentists depending on what I needed to get done.. this woman does it ALL!!! And she's really good at what she does.

Anyways, when I was in the States I delayed going to the dentist because I knew I had a lot of different work that needed to be done on my teeth, and if you are at all familiar with the American dental health care system, you will understand immediately my looooooong delay in visiting the dentist. So, now that I am in India... one of the perks of course is the excellent dental care for a fraction of what it would cost me in the States (and that's WITH insurance!). Since I've been here I've already had all 5 of my cavity fillings filled and replaced, a crown FINALLY capped on one of my teeth, and I have scheduled an appointment this Saturday to extract my wisdom teeth. All of this done by ONE good dentist! Hallelujah!!! AND!!! I made the appointment for this Saturday.... get this.... TODAY! hahahahaha :) Can you just feel my enthusiasm?!

I asked my dentist why it is that I have cavities in almost all my teeth... I mean I brush my teeth and, although I don't do it as much as I probably should, I floss too. She told me that she could tell from some chipping on my front teeth that I'm what they call a "night grinder". And no, this doesn't refer to any kind of promiscuous dancing at a night club. I grind my teeth at night while I'm sleeping! I could only half believe it. When I was younger I could hear my brother grinding his teeth as he slept in 'till late morning... the sound can only be described as a kind of bone crushing, scratch your nails on a chalkboard kind of sound. It was horrifying, and I was sure he was breaking all his teeth. I never thought that I could be doing the same thing in MY sleep! Geez!

So, in my dentist's all-knowing wisdom, she made a teeth guard for me so when I sleep even if I tried to grind... I couldn't. Can I hear another "amen"?! By the time I get back to the States, or wherever we end up, I will only be needing to see a dentist for a once in a while check-up and cleaning... (sigh of relief!) Although honestly I will be sad to leave Dr. Sanghmitra... I've grown some attachment to her, especially since she served me a heavenly cup of coffee at today's visit (made with hot milk and sugar with a sprinkle of cocoa on top!) as I waited for her to finish making my teeth guard.

Sidewalks 101 - Part II

I saw a man ready to strangle another this morning. I had just dropped off Sofia at her school when I heard the escalating shouts. I couldn't understand what the older man was saying to the motorcyclist, who had apparently been caught by surprise, but I just knew what he was saying. "What do you think you're doing you moron!!! You almost ran me over!! Drive on the road like everyone else instead of the sidewalk!!! You could've gotten me killed!!!"

It's the same thing I secretly think to myself every time a motorcyclist jumps the curb. And although I was kind of happy to know that it wasn't just me, my foreign and American self, thinking these things... I couldn't help but feel a teeny bit sorry for the guy who was probably having a million different Hindi insults hurled at him. It was oddly silent around this guy shouting amidst the overly crowded morning traffic because everyone was really curious to know what all the drama was about. And the motorcyclist couldn't say much... he didn't yell back... he couldn't because he knew he had gotten caught and also because the guy yelling at him was obviously much older than him, and here in India, there is a deep reverence and respect for their elders. When the traffic started moving again, that motorcyclist, whom the elder man most likely nicknamed "moron", was finally free to escape the frantic shouts.

Sidewalks 101

I thought sidewalks were for pedestrians. Well, apparently the locals didn't learn that bit in driving school because I find myself right in middle of traffic on the SIDEWALK! Dodging motorcycles trying to cheat the stopped traffic by jumping the curb and taking their chances with the all too relaxed and, for the most part absent, traffic police. I wouldn't mind so much if for one, I didn't have to rely on walking as my mode of transport; two, it was only one or two idiots once in a while; and three, I didn't have to keep my eyes looking down in order to prevent myself from tripping on the uneven and stony path they call a "sidewalk". Now I am faced with the task of keeping one eye on the floor and the other eye on the bully motorcyclists in front of me practically aiming to pummel me down. Funny thing about nature... it has forced both human eyes to travel in the same direction. Woe is me. So it seems I am destined for a broken and bruised face OR a broken and definitely bruised body. Hmm.... tough one. For now, I will settle for quietly cursing the traffic and not so quietly cursing the block of stone I have just tripped over and has given my toe a nice aching pain to remember it by.

Angels

I read that a person's house may be inversely proportional to his happiness. It must be true because I have never seen more joyful children than the ones I visited at the appropriately named Angel's Orphanage in the heart and back allies of Bangalore.

I tagged along with a group of people from Gilberto's work one Sunday afternoon to visit this orphanage as part of a service project. I had been itching for some time since Sofia started school to occupy my newly found free time volunteering in some way. After a few unsuccessful attempts and several highly questionable "volunteering" organizations, I found out about this service opportunity at the orphanage. I have never actually visited one before and have for years secretly wished to run an orphanage of my own one day... (maybe it unconsciously had something to do with my love for the movie Little Orphan Annie.. who knows :)

We gathered all 9 or 10 of us, including Sofia, in front of the their office building to go together to the orphanage. I didn't know anyone in the group and suddenly found myself feeling that self-conscious, nervous, first-day-of-school feeling. I was also fighting my usual lazy and unadventurous side to keep going with the group despite Gilberto's last minute, work-related bail out. I'm so glad my courage prevailed because in the end it was such a moving and memorable experience.

We got there mid-afternoon and, when the children saw us coming they all gathered together in a room sitting crossed-legged on the floor in front of us. The room appeared to be their sleeping quarters with a handful of cots and neatly folded sheets and blankets on the shelves next to them. There were about 40 children ranging from age 2 to 20. The younger ones sat in the front as the older ones sat respectfully in the back, some even cradling the little ones in their arms.

I learned later that the boys at age 18 go off to college or start working and the girls remain in the orphanage until they are 20 when they are "married off". The lady in charge of the children told me with a proud smile that the girls at the orphanage are sought after for marriage because they're considered "homely" and have never been let to go wondering outside the orphanage. I couldn't help but be slightly disturbed by that and how happy she was about it. Anyway, who am I to judge.

We gathered together in that room. We sat on the chairs offered to us against the wall facing the bright-eyed children. We all settled pretty quickly and everyone became quiet with expectation as if we had come bearing some weighty and important news. After a couple of awkward silent minutes, the lady in charge of the children instructed them to sing a song for us. And they sang. They sang with their hearts. They sang with such angelic voices and in such harmony and unison that it was obvious that they'd probably learned and practiced singing that song since their first days at the orphanage. It was a song about God. I was too distracted by how they were singing it to listen to what they were singing, so I can't recall what the song was about, but I remember their faces. So full of hope and joy. I couldn't help but become teary-eyed, but I fought back those tears because I knew they had no place there.

We clapped proudly when they finished. Now it was our turn to offer them something, ... but no one said anything. I was itching, truly hoping for one of us to say something. But I think we were all so moved by them that we lost our own words. I found myself again inwardly fighting my shy, quiet self to break the silence. Suddenly I spoke, as everyone turns to look at me.. I asked the children if they had ever heard the song about the spider. A part of me was dreading that they would say yes, that they already knew the itsby bitsy spider song, and if that was all I had to offer. Thankfully none of them were familiar with the song and they watched me in respectful anticipation. I first explained to them the journey of the spider. How its wish was to reach the roof and in order to get there it had to climb the water spout. When the clouds gathered and it began to rain, the spider was knocked down and prevented from reaching the top. The spider's spirit however wasn't weathered and so it waited patiently. Soon enough the sun came out and dried up the rain, and the spider climbed back on its journey to the top. Secretly, or not so secretly, I wished that they would learn the moral of that short nursery rhyme and carry it with them. After teaching them the finger movements of the spider and the rest of the song, we sang together... and how they sang! I could see in their faces how much they were enjoying this new song. And it brought happiness to my spirit... such a pure and little thing.

We passed out some pencils and candy for them and soon the rigidness of the group opened up and the children began chatting amongst themselves and with us. We indulged them happily with taking their photos.. again and again. Some of the kids went outside to play games. The boys played cricket with the older guys and the girls taught us fun little chasing kind of games. One little girl even came up to Sofia, who had been a little reserved since we arrived there because she was quite tired, and asked politely if she could teach her a hand clapping rhyme. Sofia, curious and happy that the girl was being so gentle and kind with her, played with her without any protests. I took advantage of having brought my good camera and took pictures of the children and their unattached and generous smiles. Having so little, they were immensely capable of giving so much, just in the sincerity of their smiles.

Good Job, Mommy!

So as a mother, I realize my responsibility to try to teach all those important virtues like kindness, truthfulness, and compassion to my little one is an important and daily task. Most days this is pretty easy until one day you yourself are tested and your child is bright-eyed and watching to see how you react... man... talk about tough!

Let's take this morning for example. Sofia and I had just finished showering and washing off the remaining colors from the previous day's finger-painting-on-crack holiday in India called Holi... when Sofia gave a delightful yelp and said "mama a spider!" Instead of being scared or upset, I noticed that she was more curious and happy to see such a creature in our bathroom of all places. As I inched closer to see what she was talking about, I noticed this mammoth of an insect was no spider... although it did have many legs! Instead it was a light brown-colored... thing... on its back struggling to turn over. I leaned in closer and realized it was looking more and more like a hideously ugly and disgusting cockroach/beetle with an injured leg (or two). Now, on normal days, pre-Sofia, my reaction would have been letting out a blood-curdling scream, proceeded by grabbing my flip-flop and smashing the HELL out of that cockroach!!!! But seeing as my little one was looking at me and probably thinking "remember mama all those times you said I shouldn't step on or kill those ants outside, remember?" I instead gathered all the physical and emotional restraint I could and walked calmly to the other room... scanned the room to think of something to "get rid" of this insect as delicately as possible... as I couldn't really think of anything besides my flip-flop.. that's what I went for. As I'm walking... again calmly... back to the bathroom with the weapon in hand, Sofia says to me, "mama, be gentle... take it outside mama". My initial plan was to close the bathroom door so Sofia couldn't see her friend's life end so brutally, but I suddenly had a change of heart and decided to pick the thing up with my "weapon" instead... luckily since it was somehow already injured it couldn't go anywhere fast... but I COULD.. and did... as soon as I picked it up with my flip flop I ran with that sucker to the balcony and said good riddance to it as I tossed it frantically outside. Although I was horrifically disgusted... it made it all worth it when Sofia said, "good job, mommy!" with a big smile.

Happy (Baha'i) New Year

Today's been a good day.... a slow and seemingly unproductive day, but still good. I woke up this morning before Sofia and Gilberto, and although I could've slept in more I decided to take advantage of the time with a long hot shower, a quick clean of the apartment, the newspaper and a goooood cup of coffee (which was laced with too much sugar). Aaaaah nice :) By the time Sofia woke up it had been long enough for me to be tired of my alone time and I was missing her terribly! We greeted each other with the usual "morning, sunshine" and as I held my not-so-baby baby in my arms I couldn't help but squeeze her tight and be ever so thankful for her. Most of the rest of the day has been spent just enjoying our extra day off and long weekend. Today is the Baha'i New Year so we celebrated by eating a stash of small chocolates I had put away for safe-keeping, and boy did we enjoy it :-) Sofia's like me... a choc-oholic and quite good at being one too I must say. As I type this post now, my little chunky monkey has passed out on the couch from a sugar-induced coma.

The Land of Contradictions

I read recently from a westerner's observations of India that it is a land of contradictions. "India is beyond statement, for anything you say, the opposite is also true. It's rich and poor, spiritual and material, cruel and kind, angry but peaceful, ugly and beautiful, and smart but stupid. It's all the extremes... India is in some ways like a fun hall of mirrors where (you) can see both sides of each contradiction sharply and there's no easy escape to understanding." Slowly I am realizing the many truths in this statement.

We have an Indian lady who comes to our apartment daily to clean that we have come to genuinely like because she has shown such outward affection toward our little girl Sofia - smiling, laughing, hugging her and even giving her gifts. Western guilt combined with our uneasiness of having someone coming to our place to do the cleaning and washing for us, has made us show an unusual display of kindness and leniency towards her, at least by Indian standards. But after giving her one time an unusually generous monetary gift to "help her daughter take an exam for school", we've slowly been fed more and more stories of her misfortune. Stories and complaints of her husband's daily drunkenness, her non-stop, no-day-off-even-when-she's-sick-with-fever job, her daughter's (and now son's) inability to attend college or take exams because of exorbitant fees, and then giving herself two days off to take her daughter to the doctor for a "headache", after which she lists off the many tests and fees she can't afford to pay. Having just recently taken our own daughter to the hospital, for which she was keenly aware, I began to feel a deep sorrow and sympathy that our "friend", despite working every day of her life, and having a husband who is a drunkard and spends all the little money he makes, and unable to send her daughter AND son to school, couldn't afford to help her daughter in her illness. What a wretched, rich American I am! At least, that is how I felt.

After consulting with Gilberto about the matter, because now the guilt has become REALLY pricey, we began to be a little suspicious. When I asked her to give me the name and phone number of her daughter's doctor so we can call and see what tests need to be done and how we can help, the response I was given was no more than a half-hearted, lopsided smile and "yes, ma'am". There were no more smiles when she said goodbye for the day and we never did get the doctor's phone number from her. We were soon made aware from dear Indian friends of ours that this is a common tactic from "the help" to squeeze money out of a guilt-ridden Westerner (when in fact they are doing just fine money-wise). The betrayal I felt was deep and personal.

But then I would read in the newspapers over and over again of just the opposite... not betrayal but loyalty to a fellow citizen. When a pedestrian is hit by a car or bus or motorcycle on the road and the person driving attempts to drive off, citizens who witnessed the incident stop what they're doing and run after the person. It never fails... it's actually what is expected because everyone knows that the police always happen to come way too late when the accused have already taken off. This is their way of ensuring the victim gets some justice. If the criminal is beaten up and put into the hospital, at least then there will be record of his name and then he can face the punishment that comes with being so careless on the road. It's an odd example of loyalty perhaps, but it shows that the Indian people not only feel justice is important for themselves but also have a personal sense of commitment to each other in that regard.

So even as I feel a certain betrayal of sorts by the Indian people who have taken advantage of my kindness, I am comforted a little by the contradicting loyalty as well. Making the sorrow only skin deep and ultimately banishing my naivete in a world that is not so innocent, which is a valuable lesson in my eyes.

This realization came to me suddenly and quite randomly while I was sitting in a autorickshaw, while smelling the many smells of India amid the morning Bangalore traffic and surrounded by a mob of motorcycles and rickshaws inching their way forward at every opportunity, that despite the betrayal there is a very real camaraderie and loyalty, even if displayed in the most odd circumstances. Suddenly I felt the compassion and loyalty as we all made our way forward, inch by inch in a melodic unison.

Porta Potty Anyone???

For goodness' sake, someone please set up more porta potties around this city! I don't think I'll ever get used to the fact that Indian men here pee freely on the sides of the roads. In fact, every week day morning as Sofia and I are riding in our usual rickshaw ride to her school, we seem to ALWAYS catch motorcyclists, rickshaw drivers, pedestrians... basically any man alive that happens to be going the same route as us... "relieve" themselves on the side of the road. On especially popular days.. we even catch a nasty whiff from the wind. And they have no shame in it at all! The author of "Holy Cow!" put it accurately when she said "It seems Indian men have a chronic urinary tract infection - they (pee) proudly beside the road, up against buildings, and in every park." We even had a rickshaw driver one time pull over on the highway to make his mark like all the other men. Try explaining to a 2-year-old "where the driver went" ... kinda tough.

Water, water... where?

Coming to India has been a really unique experience for me in many ways. Living in the comfort of my suburban American community, and coming from a middle-class family... I have never had to worry about things like how, or where or IF I would have clean running and drinkable water. Actually the opposite was true... I, like many others in America, wasted water in my every day use - taking looooooong, hot showers every day, letting the water run as I brushed my teeth, using way too much water to wash my car or the dishes, or unnecessarily wash too many loads of laundry. Living in India and witnessing the deep poverty that so many people here are subject to has quickly made me realize the sanctity of water.

When I first came here and would go to restaurants for a bite to eat... I was taken aback when we would ask for some bottled water and the waiter would present the 1 liter of water as if he were seeking our approval of an expensive bottle of wine. As I came to learn, I would have to then touch the bottle to see if the temperature of the water was to my liking. I dismissed this the first and second time it happened as over zealous waiters trying desperately to appear high class and professional to us foreign customers. But no matter what restaurant we would go to, whether expensive or not ... it was always the same. Water is such a precious resource... a necessity of LIFE... and yet it's astounding to think that way too many people don't have access to even this. I've definitely changed my daily habits in a pretty dramatic way... I value water so much more and use it sparingly, always keeping in mind that although I can "afford" to have as much water as I would like... I can't afford to waste such a valuable and precious resource which should be shared and available to us all.

Care packages are the best!

In the past several years I have made many trips to various countries staying from 3 months to a couple years. And although I love travelling and experiencing other cultures and ways of living... the reality of it always hits me at some point. Being away from family can be difficult especially around birthdays and holidays. But I've been lucky that my family (mom, siblings and siblings-in-law) have always been so wonderful about making the long distance not so distant by calling, emailing, blogging and especially sending care packages for birthdays!

This year has been a mix of emotions... When I was growing up... birthdays were THE thing to look forward to in the year! It was so exciting for me... maybe it was because I knew that I would be pampered for the day, maybe it was just the thrill of getting new things,... And I used to wonder why older people didn't share the same enthusiasm as I did about birthdays.... NOW I know. It seems once you've reached your mid-twenties... it all starts going downhill from there. There just aren't any birthday benchmarks to look forward to. You look forward to 10 because you become a "pre-teen", 13 because you're officially a teenager, then there's 15, 16, 18, 21 and finally 25... but that's when reality starts to hit... wow, I'm quarter of a century old now! hahaha... a little dramatic but I've never been one to downplay things. After that... what do you have to look forward to??? You actually start to dread 30... "please please... let 29 last for more than one year!" I'm not 30 yet, but I'm starting to feel the pressure as it slowly but surely creeps up on me. Leaving the 20s behind... I'm going to have to get used to it I guess :)

Anyways, my dear family sent me a care package for my birthday with some wonderful things that really touched me... "wow, they REALLY know me, don't they!" My favorites? The cake in a box with candles and frosting, the package of Starbucks ground coffee, the iTunes gift card, the books and magazine, the CHOCOLATE, teas, and oatmeal... well, just about everything really! So, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU guys!!!! It has put a HUGE smile on my face, and it really has brought back that childhood excitement about birthdays... even for just a little bit ;-)

Book Review: Iran Awakening by Shirin Ebadi

Since coming to India I have noticed many similarities between the Indian culture (language, gestures of politeness, etc.) with my own (a hybrid of Iranian-born parents and American schooling and up bringing). My husband often laughs when I tell people that I am Persian because other than the looks and the name, I am more fully an American. Unfortunately for him I have not inherited the great Persian cooking, nor the elegant style of dressing and grooming, nor even for that matter much of the language! I can barely speak a full sentence in Persian without having to use one or two English words (although my comprehension level is more fluent).

So, coming here... I have been inspired to make more of an initiative to understand my parents' culture and my heritage, especially since my 2-year-old daughter IS half Persian. This book Iran Awakening by Shirin Ebadi has been my first attempt at understanding a culture I know only vaguely.

This book was so intriguing! I had a difficult time putting it down and read this 208-page autobiography in about a day and a half! Shirin Ebadi is an extraordinary and brave woman who as a lawyer defends the most vulnerable in cases that others refused to touch and whose great humani- tarian work earned her a nobel peace prize... the first given to an Iranian woman.

Shirin Ebadi writes about her family, her faith and her experiences before and after the Islamic Revolution of 1979. She paints a clear picture of how Iran was during the Shah's reign, how everyone had high hopes that the revolution would bring a more fair and just Iran, and how dismally disappointed most were with how things turned out. Ms. Ebadi tells of a fairly Westernized Iranian society during the Shah's reign... women dressing in mini skirts and wearing the latest trends in fashion and hair style, weeknight gatherings of college-aged friends both male and female in public places sipping coffee or tea, having wonderful conversations and fun, where universities were the breeding ground for intellectual stimulation and political protests. She also describes the Shah's lavish life style... spending much of the country's money in his own interest while the very poor and needy were left ignored... and of the SAVAK, the Shah's secret police who earned a reputation for its ruthlessness and brutality against anyone in opposition to the Shah's reign.

Ms. Ebadi studied law and before the revolution she was a high ranking judge respected among her peers. However after the revolution things drastically changed. The whole culture and every day life was different and people feared that they would be targeted because they would be perceived by the government (and their peers, some being spies) as being disloyal. Women were demoted or fired from high ranking jobs, forced to wear the hijab to cover their hair in public, and almost over night considered a second class citizen according to the new laws instituted by the new regime. Ms. Ebadi herself was demoted to legal secretary. However instead of just accepting this position, she decided to take on pro bono cases that other lawyers dared not touch for fear of becoming one among many on the government's death list. Intellectuals and anyone seeming to have anything critical to say about the regime were tortured, imprisoned, and/or killed... ironically, the same brutality and ruthless behavior of the despised SAVAK still existed even after the revolution ... only now headed by a different leader. The danger of her work proved even more dangerously real when she read her own name near the top of the government's death list.

I am amazed by this woman's bravery and staunch faith in a true justice system. She believes, as I recall, that religion and state is better kept separate... makes sense to me! I truly admire how she struggled every day to help people... as a mother I can't imagine the worries she had daily of her own safety and if her two daughters would be made victims to get at her. Every day wondering if it would be her last. But it seems hope and faith can truly make a person so strong as to overcome these things. To look forward and not allow "what ifs" to prevent you from working toward a greater good and higher goal. What is life then if not to strive to better yourselves... to better the world... and help your fellow (wo)man in need.

A book worth reading and sharing with others. I won't go into too much more detail because it's worth finding out for yourself.

Fairi's book rating: 4 out of 5 cups of coffee ;-)

To tickle your funny bone...

I was sitting in a Coffee Day Cafe recently and in between sips of my mocha I read this on the front page of its magazine:


Why is coffee such a confidence builder???
...
.....
Because it allows you to espresso self.