The Indian Girl

Early last week I had an unpleasant experience in a rickshaw on the way back from the library. I'm not going to go into details, but suffice it to say that whist I'm not easily freaked, I was well and truly freaked out by it and it's probably one of the few times that Maya has heard me really scream. As a result, we have decided to start acting like ex-pats (especially ex-pats with children) and, instead of tearing around the crazy streets of Bangalore in rickshaws driven by men with suicidal tendencies, we're getting taxis for anything other than very short journeys.

We put this to to the test for the first time today and were driven in a taxi to a hotel set in beautiful grounds to go and swim. Aren't we posh. Though I have to say, our taxi driver was a nutter who had no concept of slowing down over speed bumps and was far more enraptured with his mobile phone conversation than the road. But still. At least if he brakes suddenly we can't fall out of the side.

Anyway, the hotel and pool were wonderful and Maya, although she wasn't feeling well and was also tired and grumpy, was on brilliant form the second she was in the pool. What a change from the one year old who I took to swimming lessons in Godmanchester and, unlike all the other water babes who splashed about happily in the pool, she screamed till I got her out and then tried to drag herself off, as far away from the water as possible. Whilst there, we met a German man and his French step-son (aged 9) who Maya played football with. She also came out with a brilliant comment. When asked by the man where she was from, she chirped back in response 'I an Indian girl!' Now, looking at the photo I've put in of her above, she couldn't really look more English, could she. But still, when she dances she definitely looks more Indian than English and I'm pleased that India is slowly seeping into her indentity.

Nursery starts back tomorrow, but because of her urinary infection not having cleared up yet, I'll be keeping her at home. I have no idea how nursery will work out this time round but I'm crossing absolutely everything I have that she'll be okay. Watching Maya watch the little boy kicking his football around today, I realised afresh that she is just not spending time with other kids (apart from Lily) and that's hard for her. She was gazing at him and at the ball and you could see she was plucking up courage to go and play with him. Eventually she did, and she loved it and all aches and pains and tiredness were suddenly forgotten. So let's hope this infection clears up quickly and we'll see what this week brings.

Stinky Pink

Maya, as suspected, does indeed have a urinary infection. Poor thing, she'll seem absolutely fine and then suddenly her face screws up in pain and she says how much it hurts. However, she had a urine test a couple of days ago and another one today and apparently it's better than it was so we're going to stay off the antibiotics (and mangoes) for another few days and see how she gets on. She's a tough little cookie and is being really brave. I definitely spoke too soon about none of us being ill. In the past couple of months, I've dreaded hearing the words 'My tummy hurts' because it's just so, so common to get bouts diarrhoea out here. Thankfully, to date, the only time Maya's said her tummy hurts has been as a result of too much chocolate or because she's had one of her numerous trips and falls and winded herself.

And so....the weekend. I love the weekends here. The promise of two whole days for the four of us to spend together visiting temples, gardens, markets, museums, art galleries, going out for lunch, shopping, visiting interesting places, experiencing Bangalore in its many guises....Okay,okay, so we never get round to doing the vast majority of these things because one of the girls eventually falls asleep just as the other is waking up, or it's just too darned hot, or we have a child whose whining resembles one of those mosquitos that sing and sing in your ear and you just can't make it stop (no names mentioned) ...But hey, the intention is there.

The plan for this morning was to buy a dress for Maya's upcoming birthday, do some food shopping and then go out for lunch. We managed the first two at least. Two out of three - not bad. This is what happened when we went to Fab India, the wonderful clothes shop (if you ever visit India (they're all over), seek it out - immediately!) to buy Maya's birthday dress.

I saw a beautiful white dress with big blue spots on it which she would have looked gorgeous in. I hold it up.

'Do you like this one, Maya?'

Maya screws up her nose. 'No.'

'No. Why not?'

No answer. I chose another lovely blue and green one patterned with flowers. 'How about this?'

'No. Can't like it.'

'Why Maya? Why?'

'I want pink dress.'

Oh. Pink. Errrggghhh. Please, can somebody tell me why girls are hard-wired to the colour pink? Why, why, why? I have spent the past three years actively discouraging her to wear pink, partly because it irritates me that the majority of clothes sold for girls are in this colour and also because there are other colours that suit her far better.

There is one rather insipid pink dress age 3-4 which I pull out and say in my best 'oh, I don't think this one is very nice' voice 'Here's a pink dress.'

'Yes!' She says joyfully. 'Pink! Pink! Like this one.'

I hesitate. 'Are you sure Maya? How about this one?' I hold the flowery one up. 'No!' she shouts. 'Or this one?' I try hopefully with the spotty one, but she's gone. Not interested. I'm maliciously thinking at this stage that I might just buy the spotty one anyway- after all, who's paying for it? But suddenly I remember a conversation I had with my mother a little over three years ago which brings up certain parallels. I was walking across Parker's Peace in Cambridge with her, heavily pregnant and telling her about the two names that Andy and I were thinking of to call our child if it was a girl.

'We're down to Maya and Rose, but pretty sure we'll go for Maya.'

'Oooh! Rose is nice.'

'Yes, it is isn't it. But actually, we're thinking we'll go for Maya.'

Long pause. 'Rose is lovely.'

'So is Maya.'

Another pause. 'But Rose is such a pretty name.'

And so it went on. Fast forward back to Fab India three years later. I sigh and buy the pink dress. To be fair, my mother got used to the name Maya. By the same token, I'm sure Maya will look lovely in the dress too. (And it's not as though it has to stay on her for her entire life either!)

Maya and her Mama get the blues

Maya, we think, has a urinary infection. It is very typical, because just yesterday I was telling my mother in South Africa during a skype conversation how lucky we all are not to have been ill since being in India. We consulted the Bradt guide to travelling abroad with children (highly recommended to anyone thinking of travelling with sprogs) and apparently this is very common for girls in hot, damp climates and exacerbated, according to Deepa, by eating too many heat-producing mangoes (??). Anyway, she's been to the doctor this morning and done a urine sample so we'll pick up results tonight. In the meantime though she's in pain when she goes to the loo which must be horrible for her. We're feeding her copious amounts of juice and having frequent washes and hopefully we can ride out the storm before turning to antibiotics.

As for Maya's Mama - well, her blues stem from something entirely different. When I wrote my last novel a few years ago I had some very encouraging feedback from one particular literary agent. He said that I was in the top 0.1% of what he read professionally but felt my writing was better than the story and that I really needed to keep writing and pen a new novel. Anyway, I've never forgotten those words...they have helped to spur me on in the past couple of years. So now, as you know, I am finally in the position to be able to do some writing. I thought it was worth sending the synopsis back to the same literary agent. When I asked him if this was alright, he said he'd be 'delighted' to see a synopsis and excerpt so I worked really hard on this and off it went. Today, I received his reply. In short? Not on yer life, mate. He just wasn't interested at all and said there was no chance that this kind of story was marketable. Without a shadow of a doubt I want honesty, so from that point of view I am grateful to him. But of course it's natural to feel disappointed too, because I know, I know that my writing has improved tenfold since the last time. And I believe in this story so much more.

He suggested I read his e-book about how to approach writing in terms of the marketplace which would help me come up with a new project. I am sure this is the sensible thing to do. But then, having read this e-book, would I not just feel unutterably depressed at having to bin something that I'm loving writing and believe in? I'm sure, if I worked hard enough at it, I could write a thriller or chick-lit. But that's not me. That's not what I want to write. It's the age-old quandary isn't it, whether or not to sell one's artistic soul to the marketplace. In short, I think I'll eschew his advice and write this damn novel anyway. Hey, even if I don't sell it, maybe I'll have some readers from amongst you guys.

Before I finish this little rant, as an aside I'd like to add how delighted I am to hear that Alice Munro has won the Booker Prize. I have only read one of her collections of short stories (though I'm longing to read more) but this book 'Runaway' totally blew me away. This is good, old-fashioned story-telling at its very best. She crawls under the skin of her characters in a way I've rarely come across, surely something that every aspiring writer aims for. But - and this is the reason I bring Alice Munro up - she is winning this prize at the age of 77 and has been sidelined for many years. Why? Because her fiction previously has been perceived as too 'quiet' and by reading Munro you're not multi-tasking by simultaneously absorbing significant historical events for example. You're even in danger of just reading her for simple pleasure. Don't get me wrong, there's some historical novels that count among my favourites, but I'm just so, so pleased that character counts for something amongst the booker judges, not just swashbuckling action. I will not be deterred, I shall write this novel if it's the last thing I do. Success with it is another thing and of course depends on how you measure it. But if just one person reads my novel (published or unpublished) and truly enjoys it, well that's success enough for me.

Sorry, I really have gone on for far longer about this than I'd intended and once again, completely and utterly hijacked Maya's blog. As I write, Maya is happily fishing small play fish out of a tub and soaking Lily. If she's bossing her little sister around that's a good sign she's not in pain for the moment. Fingers crossed for the results tonight.


ps - Photo above taken just before Maya had her major flip in the Tibetan temple that I talked about in the last blog, and I was still blissfully unaware of what was to come!

From Rainforest Retreat to Realm of the Rajas

We spent little more than a week away but the break has felt like far, far longer. For the first time, we've been travelling and it feels fantastic. I think a large part of the reason it felt like we were gone for so long is because we packed so much into our week away but somehow, also managed to catch a few moments of relaxation too. We certainly had some ups and downs but the good news is that we're back, safe and sound and all still talking. On every other holiday we've taken Maya on, she's always been delighted to be home again and it's been no different this time round. When we walked in the front door, she quite visibly relaxed. It doesn't matter how much we try to encourage Maya to be a traveller - she is, quite simply, a home girl. A number of times whilst away, she asked when we were going home. I must admit though that this question also brought some confusion with it because neither Maya nor we knew which 'home' she was talking about - was it Godmanchester, Bangalore or even just the hotel room?? Poor little thing, being dragged about by her parents, she'll either love or loathe us for it one day!

So, to tell you a bit about our adventures...

To be honest, the trip didn't get off to the best of starts as an hour into our 6 hour drive to the rainforest, the car we were being driven in got a flat tyre. When it was all sorted out, Balu the driver then ran over my big toe, thinking I was already in the car (??!) which was pretty painful. Poor man was so shaken up however that he proceeded to spend the rest of the journey praying to his Gods that my pain would be reduced which, I'm pleased to say, seemed to work!

Maya and Lily fought for most of the journey, Maya getting very cross with her little sister and Lily generally antagonising Maya so were mightily relieved when after 6 bumpy hours we arrived at Rainforest Retreat, the spice plantation nestled high in the cool Western Ghats. The brochure says that The memory will linger long after you have returned home. This is very, very true. This is what the rainforest IS:

Home to the most mind-boggling bio-diversity: coffee, cardamom, pepper & vanilla, pineapple and banana groves, an abundance of trees, tropical plants, giant butterflies, lizards, fireflies, bats, frogs, moths, snakes and a million and one other creatures and plants.

This is what the rainforest IS NOT:

Safe for two little girls!!!

We wanted it to be, we really did. That's why we went there rather than some resort, because we wanted Maya and Lily to experience the living breathing rainforest, dripping with fecundity, all around them. And they did experience this - It was truly awe-inspiring and humbling, to be staying in a cabin right in the middle of the jungle, listening to the deafening sounds of the wild closing in on us from all sides. We felt like a guest of the rainforest, which is why we decided not to outstay our welcome. Here's what happened:

On the third night of our proposed 7 night stay, Maya had a nasty slip in the stone bath tub, banging her head hard against the side and sprouting an instant bruise the size and shape of an egg on her forehead. Now of course this could have happened anywhere, but what we found slightly unsettling is that our first aid kit only goes so far. The manager of the retreat, a French girl, admitted that their own first aid kit is woefully inadequate and it occurred to us that if something worse should happen to the girls, it is a very long, bumpy, unsafe drive to anywhere to get help. However, this did not come close to the other two experiences which eventually led to our hasty exodus the following morning.

That night, the heavens opened and it rained heavily and solidly for several hours. At about midnight, I woke up to feel something running over my foot. Nudging Andy awake, I whispered urgently what I'd felt. His response? "Go back to sleep, it's probably just a spider". (Spider my arse. My darling hubs has numerous virtues but responses at night do not count among them.When I woke him at 3am going into labour with Maya, he said 'Oh that's nice' then rolled over and went back to sleep.) Anyway, I lay there for a while, starting to think maybe I had just imagined it. But then I felt something run down the side of me and Andy too felt something. On went the headtorch and we saw something scurry up the ladder to the loft room (where we nearly let Maya sleep - thank the Lord we didn't). Me being all sleepy and shortsighted, I thought it was a mouse and said as much to Andy. He looked quite concerned but I then pulled the covers over my head and attempted to get some sleep, trying to ignore the sound of little scurrying feet. It wasn't until the following morning that Andy told me it wasn't mice at all. It was rats. RATS!!! Our room was infested with them. It seems that they'd come in through a crack in the roof to escape the rain and had also found some biscuits we'd stupidly left in our room to feast on. What a bonus for them! So in the end, poor Andy spent the entire night trying to fend off our spider friends in the guise of rats. Lily was all zipped up in her tent but the noise of them running around kept waking her up throughout the night too. Maya, thankfully, was oblivious to the drama and slept on.

As if this wasn't enough, early the following morning, two leeches (they come out after the rain) attached themselves to Andy's leg and sucked his blood. Oh yes, and he almost stepped on a snake too.

So, as I said, we gave the rainforest our best shot. We loved being there and the landscape, bio-diversity, people we met, hammocks, ethos and food (Maya ate her first proper Indian food - finally!) of the Rainforest Retreat was unbeatable. But the jungle is far bigger and greater than us and we also know when to call it a day. The manager was horrified to learn about the rats and completely understood our decision to move on. So yes, the memory of our few days there certainly will linger. No doubt about that.

After this somewhat traumatic experience (particularly for Andy), we longed for a clean room with no holes in the roof, room-service and a pool and that's what we found in Mysore, a beautiful old city full of crumbling palaces and unscrupulous rickshaw drivers. You're never far however from animals in India, even in posh hotels. One day, we returned to find a troupe of monkeys gathered on our balcony chewing away at Maya and Lily's drying clothes, pesky things!!

We spent a couple of days in the heart of the city, splashing with Maya in the tiny rooftop pool (I think this was her happiest times of the whole holiday!), wandering around the impressive Mysore palace, making the most of the reasonably western-child friendly room-service menu and even following the sounds of music only to discover a wedding in full swing and being invited in to eat with them!

After a couple of days at this hotel, we decided to move once more to a place called The Green Hotel on the outskirts of Mysore. Fortuitously, we had read an article about this hotel a few weeks before in the Guardian Weekly and it was as fantastic as we hoped it'd be. Set in an old palace, it aims to have a low impact on the environment and is also unique that amongst its staff, many are from amongst the infamously ostracised dalit caste, or "untouchables" as they are also known. Traditionally the dalit caste are assigned to do the unpleasant jobs nobody else wants to do for meagre wages but The Green Hotel has broken away from this (no doubt causing considerable controvery) and the service and smiles we received from the staff was first-rate.

We loved, loved, loved this place. Maya too, as she had huge grounds to wander, numerous sweet-smelling flowers to pick and a whole palace to explore. In fact, she really asserted her independence whilst we were there in a new way - going off for walks on her own, not letting us come with her (obviously followed by our beady eyes!), often doing little vanishing acts into secret corners of the palace. She was also taught to play chess on an antique set by her daddy, gobbled up yummy home made bread and cake at the wonderful Malgudi Coffee Shop and read lots of books taken out from the Palace library.

The other brilliant thing about the Green Hotel was that the three nights we spent there, after we'd put the girls to bed, Andy and I sat outisde on the balcony till it had been quiet for a while and then we could eat at the restaurant in the garden, just below our balcony. It felt like 3 successive nights out for us - such a treat.

In another respect, Maya has well and truly turned into an Indian child. Before, if she was tired and grumpy during the day she'd just...well...be tired and grumpy. But now, she often falls asleep in rickshaws and we put her over one of our shoulders and there she'll sleep for a while. She's getting a heavy girl, but it's worth it to for the mood improvement upon waking, particularly if she finds herself in a cafe with a large slice of cake in front of her.

So, did we enjoy the holiday? Andy, Lily and I certainly did (though, obviously it wasn't without it's more stressful moments). And did Maya enjoy the holiday? This is more debatable. There were aspects she loved - eg the hammock, fireflies and butterflies at the rainforest and pool, park and palace exploration in the city - but we've also had some - how do I put this - issues with her behaviour since I last wrote. I think this is how Maya would see such occasions: I'm sad and I'm angry but I don't know why I'm feeling this way. Of course if Maya doesn't know why she has these sudden violent mood changes it's hard for us to get into her head. And there's been a huge amount of patience-exercising recently. But trying though these times can be, we can't be angry with her as she's battling something that we are trying very hard to understand and get to the bottom of. Sometimes she is euphorically happy, only to suddenly snap and become very difficult and agressive. Okay, so it's just a phase and partly the Gemini in her and the fact that she is a typical two year old, filled with contrasting, frustrating emotions. But is also runs deeper than this. What's for sure is that you simply can't fight a tantruming toddler and I know everyone raises their children in different ways, but Andy and I very, very rarely, if ever, raise our voices to her. That's not to say we don't reason with her or try to explain when it's simply not okay to behave a certain way. And it's an exercise for us too, trying incredibly hard to keep our cool when Maya is passionately battling us and herself.

To use an examplle, we visited a Tibetan settlement one day and their place of worship, the 'Golden Temple'. Maya decided to chose the moment when Tibetans and tourists alike were peacefully and reverently genuflecting, praying and gazing at the huge golden Buddhas, to have a full blown fit. I have no idea why. Perhaps she was hot, tired and thirsty. I really don't think she knew why either though. Unfortunately she didn't want to move. The problem was, I couldn't pick her up from the temple floor she was kicking so much and this peaceful sanctuary was suddenly filled with violent toddler screaming. Groan. Not much fun. But contrast this with the little girl who sits for an amazingly long time in deep concentration pouring over a puzzle (her latest craze) or a book or being taught chess. Or the child who sings about the lost sheep in Little Bo-Peep (her song of the moment) with such passion and sadness that I feel sure she's bound for Broadway.

We have a book called Superpowers for Parents which is written by a UK based child psychologist. We've read bits and bobs of it and it's useful stuff, but recently it's been gathering dust. So I think now's the time to shake that dust off and delve in again for some ideas to help understand and empathize with our daughter who can be all of these things and more: taciturn, sweet-natured, fiery, angry, inquisitive, sociable, anti-social, comical, perfectionist, messy, independent, needy, difficult and adorable.

But above all, she's Maya. Just Maya. She's unique and we love her so much it hurts. But oh to understand a toddler!

Maya's baby turns one

On Wednesday it was Lily’s very first birthday. I can’t believe our gorgeous little girl is already one. We decorated the apartment with balloons and homemade decorations and had some of Andy’s colleagues around for chai and cake. Maya was almost throwing up with the over-excited anticipation of being able to gorge on cake and biscuits and was running around like a little headless chicken even before the sugar rush so we had no hope of containing her after it.

Both the girls were presented with lovely silver anklets by Andy’s colleagues. Lily had hers put on straight away and twinkle-toed her way around the room but Maya (being Maya), wasn’t having any of it. However, later on when she was distracted watching a DVD before bed, we shackled her into them (aren’t we mean) and she didn’t notice a thing! Actually, when the penny dropped that she was now wearing them, she actually decided she rather liked them and the tinkling sound they made when she walked. What she didn’t realise though was that we’d be able to hear her creeping around her bedroom for an eternity after ‘lights out’ and the boring parents kept ordering her to lie back down – no easy task for a toddler high as a kite on sugar and the desire to hear the fairy bells on her ankles once again.

Amusingly, Deepa was meant to come to Lily’s party at 5pm with her two little boys. By 6, we assumed she wasn’t coming but after Lily had been put to bed and was fast asleep, at 7.30 there’s a knock at the door and in walks Deepa, her sister and her sons (the 2 year old was slung over Deepa’s shoulder, fast asleep and upon arrival she just plonked him down on the sofa and he did not stir). Because they had come all the way to see Lily (they live an hour away), I could hardly say, erm sorry, Lily’s in bed (though this is exactly what I wanted to say!) so up Lily gets again and thankfully she was pretty unfazed by being dragged out of bed. Maya enjoyed running around naked making her anklets tinkle and sharing her scooter with Deepa’s five year old son.

On Saturday morning we are going on holiday for a week and there definitely won’t be internet where we’re going. And where are we going? Very good question…somewhere in the rainforest, at least I presume so, because it’s called Rainforest Retreat… I know I’m sounding a bit dappy and vague on this, but Andy’s sorted this one out and I trust in the hubs’ good taste to take us somewhere lovely! All I know is it’s about a six hour drive from here (gulp – any long car journey suggestions for toddlers – pretty please?!)

I’ll report back next week on how Maya and the rainforest get on. Till then, take it easy and have good weekends.

Parents have gone out

Over the weekend, Andy and I went out for the first time (hooray – about time!) in the evening. We went to a yummy Parsi restaurant round the corner from where we live and got Deepa to come over and babysit. When we left, Lily was asleep and Maya’s DVD was about to finish and so we were hoping she’d soon follow. However, this is the sight that greeted us when we came home a few hours later:

Maya, butt naked save for her straw hat, sitting at the table pouring over a storybook with chocolate smeared all round her mouth.

Lily, singing her heart out, being wheeled around on the scooter by Deepa.

Hardly the deeply sleeping little bambini we’d envisaged, but at least we got a night out! Maya, the little monkey, has got Deepa wrapped around her little finger and Lily is clearly picking up a tip or two from her big sister in our absence. Cheeky wee devils.

The observer observed

Following on from what I wrote in the last blog about Maya thinking that Lily is her baby, yesterday while I was writing, not only did I hear Maya being very bossy to Lily, but also to poor Deepa. When I asked Deepa later what all the commotion was about, she told me that Maya yelled at her not to touch Lily because she was her baby!! Oh dear...think we need a serious conversation about this.

A brief observation I'd like to write about today...This morning we went to the bookshop where, on many weekends, they have storytelling and craft activities. We thought this was something Maya might enjoy. So we turn up and there we see rows of small children sitting quietly, waiting for the story to begin, with not a parent in sight. This is because all the parents are browsing around the bookshop or sitting in one of the comfy chairs provided to read books (isn't that great?). Fantastic, we think, we'll leave Maya with the storyteller and do the same. Yeah, right. Every time we look around, there she is, climbing over the chairs, singing loudly, throwing her snacks around and generally causing a disturbance and completely and utterly distracting all the other kids. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that Maya is a noisy, tearaway child or anything of that sort, but compared to Indian children she is a little terror! I just cannot get over how obliging so many of the Indian kids I've come across are. The storyteller asks who wants to come to the front to tell a story and every single little hand in the room shoots desperately skywards. Then up to the front they go, gush out their tale and then they sit in complete silence listening to the Jungle Book, generally only speaking when spoken to. Truly, it's extraordinary. Then with the craft activity (today was designing a crown) - they are all amazing perfectionists. Maya's crown was one big (beautiful) mess of glitter and glue whereas with the other kids, even the tiny ones, they spent forever designing perfect little patterns and motifs.

I've noticed this at her nursery too, that she would come back each day with works of art which, beautiful though they were, were on the whole not Maya's work. Initially when I asked her if she did the picture, she'd enthusiastically say yes, but as time wore on, honesty kicked in and when I asked ' Maya, did you do this?' she'd say 'No, lady did it!' Oh. So much for that then. If she was lucky, she'd get to do some sticking. But why, oh why, this need for perfection? Give me a big, messy picture that the child has done themselves anyday, even if the dog looks like a fish and the mango looks like a deformed turnip.

So the bottom line is, I don't think the bookshop activity this morning was a wild success. We're still learning, constantly trying to find 'Maya-friendly' activities, but sometimes we're way off the mark. Take last night for example, we went to a busy, manic, bustling market called Bazaar St to find a length of material to use as a sling. We thought this would be hard work with the girls because it really is a crazy part of town. But Maya loved it. She absolutely loved it. After we'd found the material we turned down a side street and came across a huge, impressive temple where there were hundreds of Hindus praying, singing and milling. Maya danced in and out of the ancient stone pillars like a little fairy, listened to the devotional music and shook hands with many people fascinated by the child with the golden curls. And then when she had announced she'd had enough and it was time to go home, we jumped in the back of a rickshaw and as we tore through the streets of Bangalore, her grin was as wide as the Danube. (See photo!)

Maya the Observer

When I told Maya that she wasn't going to nursery for a while, she seemed quite happy about this new state of affairs. But when I told her that Deepa would be looking after her for a little while in the mornings because 'Mummy is working', she cast me a highly suspicious look.

'Working?' she asked incredulously.

'Yes, Maya. Working.'

She didn't seem convinced. 'What's your doing?'

Good question Maya, one that I regularly ask myself. I didn't think there was much point explaining to her that her daddy has demanded that one day I 'keep him' so he can be an artist, and in order to be able to do that I write a best-selling novel....(I've told Andy in the past that the average salary for a successful, published writer is circa £14,500 but I don't think he believes me, so we keep up the charade that one day I shall be rich, just for the fun of it!).

Anyway, the little lady has now had a few mornings at home with Lily and Deepa and whilst I tappety-tap away on the laptop I can hear a few things going on next door. She's playing lots with Lily now, which is great. She's also incredibly bossy - 'Lily, stop it!', 'Lily, give me that', 'No, Lily!' ,'Lily, stop your doing that, now!' These are some of the common refrains - poor Lily! But Maya's sister is a feisty little lady in her own right and I have no doubt she'll be able to hold her own.

Lily is very much Maya's 'baby'. She calls her 'my baby' the whole time and on the few occasions I've gently suggested Lily is her sister and I am her mummy, she juts out her lower lip and hurrumphs. This belief was taken pretty far at one stage: when Lily was just a small baby, a few months old, I found Maya sitting on our bed with her t-shirt hitched up and Lily stretched out on her lap. It took a few moments for me to realise that Maya was actually trying to feed her - classic!

But I suppose it's not that strange when I think that children watch their parents the entire time and copy them, both in words and deeds. And Maya is most definitely an observer. It's so interesting to see this trait develop in her. She often likes to be quiet and she watches and watches with such an intensity that you can almost see the cogs turning in her head. This makes it all the more interesting to wonder how she is really filtering certain experiences here in Bangalore. For example, when we stop at traffic lights and a beggar comes up to us carrying a tiny baby, gesturing towards their mouths that they are hungry. Or when we walk past a tiny shack with a large family living in it. I tell her that this is their home, then think little more about it. But Maya stares and stares. She really sees and experiences something at times like these. Now that I'm writing this down, I'm thinking that I should use these times as opportunities to explain to her, in a gentle way of course because she's only little, about how people live so differently.And I have no doubt that when she becomes more articulate, such occasions will resurface for discussion.

'

Ho! Ho! Ha, ha ha!

Maya had her final day at nursery today as it's now holidays for a month. Even though this will throw up challenges for me of finding activities for us all for both morning and afternoon (any innovative 'rainy day' suggestions with simple resources greatly appreciated - the rain has the same limitations as intense sunshine), to be honest I'm pleased to see the back of the place for a while. Maya's daily nursery angst has been distressing for us both. Despite the fact the teachers assure me she is absolutely fine the minute I've gone and she does seem happy when I collect her, I still question whether it is the right decision for her to be there because of the strength of her reaction upon arrival. Something is amiss. Anyway, perhaps after the break she'll want to go back, or perhaps not...We're all paid up for next term but that's not the issue. I think we'll have to play that one by ear.


On another note, HAPPY (belated) WORLD LAUGHTER DAY!

I know, I know, you're probably thinking I'm slightly nuts, firstly wishing you a happy world dance day recently...and now this. But I promise you, it really was world laughter day yesterday! There are, would you believe, hundreds and hundreds of laughter clubs all over India where groups of people, young and old alike, get together in parks to combine breathing exercises with a good old belly chuckle. This, it's believed, helps to keep you physically, mentally and emotionally fit.

We get a daily regional paper called The Deccan Herald and I read in this that to celebrate WLD hundreds of people were gathering in a park in Bangalore to...erm...laugh together. (Speaking of newspapers, we've received our first Guardian Weekly and so finally we're feeling much more in the loop again about world events. The Deccan Herald only dedicates one side to world news and of the articles printed here, many are pretty bizarre. For example, last week about a quarter of this precious page was taken up by a story about a man in Australia who has some weird complex about hating his left leg so much that he plunged it into an ice bucket for 6 hours so he'd have to have it amputated - all very fascinating but the global repercussions are hardly huge...Anyway, I am seriously digressing...). Back to WLD - going to see lots of people having hysterics was something that I just could not resist having a ganders at. So on this muggy afternoon, we jumped in a rickshaw and tracked down hundreds upon hundreds of people dressed wearing funny white chef-like hats and marching down the street going 'Ho! Ho! Ha, ha, ha!' We ended up in a big hall where we were given butter milk and biscuits. Between singing and speeches the entire hall erupted into a booming 'Ho! Ho! Ha, ha, ha!' Maya and Lily thought this was fantastic and heartily joined in. Whilst in there, it started to rain heavily outside so we were stuck in the hall with a load of lovely laughing loons for longer than we'd bargained for, but honestly, it was priceless. Only in India...

Lily - charmer, chuckler and crawler

STOP PRESS!

I'd like to announce (because I'm a rather proud big sister) that, after 2 rounds of competitive auditioning, Louisa has been given a trial with the BBC Concert Orchestra!! She has been working towards something like this for years and is more deserving of this big break than practically anyone else I know through her sheer bloody-minded perseverance and hard work. Okay, so this is just a trial BUT this is a massive, HUGE accomplishment. Playing the violin is all Louisa has ever wanted to do, in the same way that all I've ever wanted to do is write. So Louisa is a big inspiration for me, to keep at it. Because I DO believe it - that one day my own big break will come.

Some people have been asking me how Lily is, because mentions of her are admittedly few and far between on Maya's blog. So I've decided that every few weeks or so, Lily will get her own blog. Actually, now is a good time anyway to write about the little lady as the day before yesterday she began to crawl! It's all come as quite a surprise as we've never experienced 'the crawling thing' before: Maya sat like a little Buddha for the first 16 months of her life and went straight to walking. But Lily, 2 weeks off her first birthday, is now zooming around the place, mightily pleased with herself.

Crawling aside, I'm pleased to say that Lily is a very happy, healthy little girl. Her teeth have been giving her jip but that's normal of course, and I've been recommended an amazing homeopathic remedy for teething that lots of people use out here so will be getting my hands on some of that as soon as possible as the calpol has run out - panic! As well as now being mobile, I could have sworn she uttered her first proper word the other day. We were at the park and Maya was about to go down the slide when suddenly Lily turned her face around from within the sling, her little face lighting up, and she looked at her big sister and squeaked 'Maya!' Now maybe I was imagining it. But it certainly sounded like this is what she said and it would come as no great surprise. Lily's eyes are constantly following Maya. She is absolutely fascinated by her and is always trying to get a reaction out of Maya too - reaching out to touch (or pinch) her, stroking (or pulling) her curls and making her laugh. Lily also does the most adorable thing whereby she blows kisses...it's quite hard to describe but she puckers her little lips in and then makes a smacking sound as she blows them out, particularly if we blow a kiss at her first.

I have to say that, aswell as the baby carrier being very comfy for both Lily and myself, I'm very glad she is in it most of the time we are out. Safety asides, the number of people who try and just take her from me is staggering. And yes, we are talking strangers as well. Babies (as well as children) are public property here as I've talked about before. Let me give you an example. A couple of weeks ago I was sitting in a park. Maya was on the swing and Lily was on my lap (out of the sling) whilst I chatted to my sister on my mobile. All of a sudden, a woman walked up to us, yanked Lily up by one arm, walked off and put her on the top of a very high slide. I just could not believe it. Poor Lily was absolutely howling - it must have been pretty painful for her the way she was picked up, not to mention that she had no idea who this strange woman was. But here, this is not strange. This is totally normal, acceptable behaviour and if you question this, you run the risk of offending people. Frankly though, that's fine with me in these circumstances and offend I shall whilst retrieving my terrified baby from the top of a slide. Can you imagine this happening in a park in England??! Someone would be consigned directly to a loony bin!

Whilst I am doing my writing in the morning, Lily spends time with Deepa, the ayah. This, so far is going really well and I can sigh a huge sigh of relief that Deepa is a gentle soul and does not grab Lily by one arm or anything like that. Deepa has two little boys and says she always wanted a girl and seems to adore her. Lily is also eating some of Deepa's curries for lunch, mashed in with rice. Hooray - one of my children likes Indian food!

So all's well with Liliput, our little lovely. I can hardly believe she'll be one in 2 weeks - where oh where has this past year gone to?