Brains of India

Something I have noticed here is that school is taken very, very seriously, even for three year olds. I'm not mocking this - education is more than vital, it's a fundamental right. But I'm just surprised at how early they get the kids going here. I can't claim to know much about India's educational system or job market, but what is apparent is that positions here are very, very competitive and whilst the recession may not have hit India as hard as many other countries, unemployment here is still a big problem. Deepa's husband speaks six languages for goodness sake - six - and he cannot find a job after being made redundant from his IT firm. He has been searching for six months now and is prepared to take absolutely anything. The point I'm making is that education - and a good education - is more important than ever here. Everywhere we go we see centres for children claiming to help hone childrens memories and turn them into little geniuses. School is attended six days a week and even extremely young children are given a ton of homework. I'm always shocked at the weight of the huge school bags I see tiny tots struggling under on their way home from school. What's more, India is about to hit the billion population mark and there aren't enough jobs to go round, that's for sure.

So I suppose I shouldn't be all that surprised when the first question often asked of Maya is Where are you studying? Or Which standard (class) are you studying in? Maya is flummoxed by this question and more often than not ignores it. All she cares about as far as school goes is she gets given chocolates there so it really must be a good place to go. But yesterday all the parents at Maya's school (this is what everyone calls it but in English terms it's really just a nursery) were given a huge bag of books that we're required to cover over the weekend. Flicking through the books I was really surprised to see that as of next week, amongst other things she'll be doing some quite tricky maths and writing. She's only just three!! Maybe this is what she'd be doing at nursery back in the UK - but I think not. I wonder what she'll make of it all. She's a bookworm already but as for taking to maths exercises - well, the proof will be in the pudding but I dearly hope she inherits her father's genes when it comes to arithmetic rather than her mother's otherwise the poor girl is destined to be forever a mathematical dunce.

Lily gets attitude

From the pictures, this may look like a cherubic, blue-eyed babe with not a grumpy bone in her chubby little body. Do NOT let her kid you. Lily has, since my last posting about her, got feisty. In a big way. Here are a couple of examples:

- When we went to the park last week, a group of elderly ladies gathered around Lily, all cooing and clucking over her. (She has often been likened to a Barbie doll but yeeeeuuk I say to that.) Lily put on her best 'I am not impressed face (she has honed this to perfection: brows knitted and lowered and bottom lip puckered.) One of the ladies then made the mistake of trying to stroke her cheek and the sound that came out of Lily can only be described as a snarl. And this was accompanied by her little fist swiping out in much the same way that a cat does with their claw if they are irritated. The elderly ladies all sprang back in surprise with their arms outstretched in surrender pose and expressions reading Whoaaa! Calm down, now! We won't come near you again - promise! So yes, Lily is asserting her independence and clause no.23 in Lily's Personal Human Rights declaration reads 'The right to not have my space invaded. Even if it's an old lady who just wants to stroke my cheek. My cheek is not public property thank you very much.'

- When I am tap-tapping away in the morning, doing my writing and Lily is being looked after by Deepa, I often hear little outbursts coming from next door. There is quite a lot of screaming and protesting going on, but I have learnt now that this is normally not as a result of having a nasty fall or hurting herself, it's more likely to be because Deepa does something that Lily doesnt like eg take a pen out of her hand that she's trying to stab herself with or take the packet of cumin powder from her hands that Lily is trying to douse herself with. This little lady just does not like being told 'no'. Ok, it's no different from any other child her age, I'm sure, but it seems that in the blink of an eye, Lily went from the most laid-back little girl imaginable to a feisty madam! Deepa is pretty much unflappable, but often when I come out of my room to relieve her, she laughs despairingly that Lily is a changed baby from the one she first started looking after or, in Deepa's words, 'she's a naughty girl now.'

Speaking of Deepa, you can see from pictures one and two that Lily has a dab of red powder on her forehead. Whilst I am writing and Maya is at school, aswell as being chased round the apartment by an uncomplaining ayah, Lily is also attending the Deepa beauty parlour. Several times, Lily has been returned to me with her hair slicked sleekly into hair clips and bunches with coconut oil, her finger and toe nails painted pink and be-decked with every imaginable bangle, anklet and neclace. She is a sight to behold.

As for walking, because she's been crawling for a long time now, I thought she'd want to get going on her legs. But she feels safer closer to the ground and does plenty of finger walking with us. She is barely holding on and when we try and put something else in her finger that might feel like a finger (?!) she will not be fooled and instantly howls. I suppose one of those baby walker's would help but because we've got less than 2 months left here (I know, where has the time gone??), I'm loath to buy one.

Having commented how feisty Lily now is, I have to complete this by saying that she is also truly adorable - fun loving, very very cheeky and brave (she hurls herself down slides with wild abandon without a second thought) and also very funny. When we get home and leave our shoes by the door, she takes them, one by one to the cupboard and arranges them neatly in there as if to say come on people, stop being so slovenly! She also seeks out her pink sunhat whenever we're at home because she likes to have it on at all times, even when she's as naked as the day she was born. Lily loves water, music, hiding from us and playing peekaboo, food, going for walks in the sling and being thrown up and down in the air to Maya's favourite 'jumping song' (see last weeks blog). I think we're going to have to watch this one... feisty she may be, but she is also a squidgy little bundle of pure fun and delight.

The Dress

In a blog the other day, I talked about one of Maya's favourite dresses being repaired and given to a little girl who spends the day with her mother selling food to passers-by at the end of our road. We've since discovered that the girl's name is Ashiswini, and here'a a photo of her above taken wearing it. It's actually done well this dress, as it was also well worn by Maya's older cousin Daisy. Ashiswini's mother, Lakshmi, has constructed a very simple swing out of a sari, hanging from a tree so that she can both play and sleep in it. People here never fail to amaze me how resilient they are, making the best out of situations that I know in England we just wouldn't begin to know how to deal with.

Kutteeram & kidnapping to King George's Palace

Both Andy and I have been feeling the need for the sea recently, so we had a great plan to head to the Tamil Nadu coast for the weekend, which many people do from Bangalore. However, after we studied our plan in more depth, we realised that most of these people surely can't have kids - it would have involved about eight hours of travelling to reach our destination! Instead, we whisked Maya out of school on friday and in the morning travelled a mere hour and a half out of Bangalore to a beautiful hotel called Taj Kutteeram we'd heard about.

It was beautiful there - several individually designed cottages made from adove, tribal art painted on the walls, mosaic floored bathrooms and our own swing chair out the back. Another great bonus was that there was lots of garden space for Maya to run and Lily to crawl, plus a pond replete with ducks which I don't think Maya had really come into contact with much since our Godmanchester days and gleefully watched them from the bridge jumping into the water and screeching 'plop!' each time one had gone in.

On our first full day there, we decided to go on a morning walk to Hessarghatta Lake which we'd read about. This was where villagers once washed clothes and brought their sheep and cattle to drink. It was also home to the Bangalore Yacht Club, so when we reached the lake, we were shocked to see that it was dry as a bone. This was a stark reminder for us of the drought that India is facing and the very real effects of climate change. We were told that the lake has been dry for some time now and we watched as villagers herded past with their animals, all headed for a very small patch of water in the middle of the dried out mud flat. We sat on the banks of what was once the resevoir (picture 3) whilst Maya and Lily watched her parents trying to get the kite going and also the villagers go by. Where's the water, Maya asked, since we'd told her we were going to a lake. How to explain drought and global warming to a three year old? It was very sobering. I found this photo on the Guardian weekly website. This image speaks a thousand words about the situation that I cannot. Click here

Just to bring this home to an even greater degree, we then had a peculiar experience. We were all feeling quite tired and weren't that keen to walk back to the hotel so decided to hitch. It didn't take long before we were picked up in a jeep by three wealthy Bangaloreans: a man, his sister in law and his nephew who fed us plum cake and insisted we accompany them to visit their friend who lived on a farm. We said we thought we'd better get back for lunch but they kept driving anyway whilst the patriarch (who had an incredibly hoarse voice, probably because he shouts rather than talks) regaled us with stories of his friend, 'King George' whose farm we would now be visiting. Before we knew it, we were hurtling along a driveway after being cleared by the security guards at the gate and found ourselves at an enormous mansion with vintage cars, race horses and perfectly manicured lawns. It transpired that King George wasn't there but we were given a tour anyway of the house. The man took a liking to Maya who he called May-aaaar and kept trying to bounce her curls but the feeling wasn't mutual and she did a quick hop, skip and a jump every time he approached her.

The house was, in a word, obscene. The owners are from Bangalore and come to the house every other weekend, if that. Despite that, water is sprayed generously over the lawns to keep the grass green and springy, the enormous swimming pool is full and gleaming and staff move like ghosts about the empty mansion polishing the mahogany furniture and scrubbing the marble floors. King George is clearly an egomaniac as there are pictures of him everywhere AND (I shudder to write this), not only were there stuffed animal heads adorning many of the walls, but there was also a real elephant foot which had been turned into a side table and an elephant trunk in a hallway as decoration. Andy saw it first and hoped that neither Maya or I would spot it. Thankfully I don't think Maya realised what it was but I was so outraged by what I'd seen that I just could not help but say something. I tried to keep my voice as neutral as possible and as the old guy kept saying 'Isn't this an amazing house? Isn't it beautiful?', I intervened and said 'Yes, but it's not that nice having dead elephants in it.' He stopped walking, looked round at me in surprise and laughed 'That's not a dead elephant! It's just the trunk!' Oh. Right. Stupid me.

At this stage we were keen to get out of there, but we were first given a drink on the terrace before we got back in the jeep to be taken back to the hotel. 'This,' the patriarch announced proudly, 'is India.' Erm, no offence, I know we've only been here four months but frankly, this is bloody well NOT India. This is how 0.000001% of the Indian population live. Go and look at the dried up reservoir and the villagers taking their cattle to a meagre scrap of water. This is how millions are living. So yes, point made. King George's palace was good to see, and I know they were just being kind by taking us there. But they wanted us to be impressed and I felt far more sickened than anything else.

The following day we visited the Nrityagram Dance Village, right next to the hotel. Sunday is the day when local kids are given lessons by professional dancers. It was fascinating to watch and Maya, who now frequently refers to herself as a dancer, could not tear her eyes away from the class. She also made friends with a couple of English girls (first Brits we've met!) who were staying at the hotel too with their parents, and the three of them tore around the grounds making mischief. We're now back in Bangalore and we have two very tired little girls tucked up in bed, Maya probably still swinging in her sleep from the motion of the gently rocking swing chair and the hammock she spent so much time in.

Cafe Culture

Maya thinks that life begins and ends in a cafe. She truly does. Often, when I ask her in the afternoon what she'd like to do today, she pipes excitedly 'Go to a cafe!' I frown and wonder where on earth she got this from. It can't have anything to do with the fact that both her parents are tea and cake addicts (their second date was spent in a cafe in Antigua Guatemala stuffing their faces with cheesecake) and that we often pause for pit-stops for 'the sake of the children'. This was all very well when it was boiling hot, because the cafe's often provided cool respite for sweaty Family Narracott. But it's not hot at all now, it's simply habit!

Maya is very astute. She knows that if we go to a cafe, her parents cannot resist satiating their sweet tooth and we can hardly indulge in cake without giving our children hearty slices too. Even though Maya picked up her love of sitting down with a cup of tea (or chai as we do here) and a piece of cake from her parents, I must confess that I do slightly flinch each time she announces her desire to go to a cafe since this is a pretty extravagant pastime, particularly in a country like India. And the trouble is now that the little lady expects cake. If I suggest a biscuit instead she gives me a look like a wounded deer and I have such a personal weakness for it that I normally relent! I think a greater deal of self-control is required, or else our family will return to the UK with an addiction to doughnuts and prematurely thickening waistlines.

Jumping over paper planes with bangles on

Maya is into bangles in a big way right now. And obviously this is a good place to be into bangles, because the markets are full of them in all shapes, sizes, textures and colours. I bought a packet of gold and pink ones for her recently but rather than mix them all up, she likes wearing the pink ones on one wrist and the gold on another. Very organised is our Maya.

The second photo was taken when Maya was just a few months old, out for a walk in the sling wearing mini-sized bangles sent over by a friend in India and the third picture was taken at ten months where she's experimenting with them on her ankles and in her mouth! It's clear to see from picture two that Maya's mama is also quite partial to bangles and it seems that now both of us enjoy the tinkling, jangling sound they make when we move.

The other thing that Maya has suddenly taken to is....jumping! I remember a lovely kindergarten teacher I met at a wedding last summer telling me that when little people start jumping, it is a BIG deal for them. The transition from hopping to jumping is huge and that feeling of both feet leaving the floor at the same time is nothing short of exhilarating. It's funny isn't it - something we take so for granted. But seeing how excited Maya gets when she jumps, I can well believe this. There is a song she adores called Paper Planes - it comes from Slumdog Millionaire and whether or not you liked the movie, you have to admit it's a catchy song and something about it just makes you want to get up and jump! So that's exactly what we've been doing (the neighbours must seriously wonder about us...) and Maya has renamed it The Jumping Song! Curious? Listen to it here

Whatever Next

Right, I've seen some things in my time but yesterday afternoon definitely features high on my 'Bizarre Weekend Activities' list. And Maya's too, I have no doubt. Let me explain. Andy recently told me about a group called the Hash House Harriers. It is a global organisation and in practically every city in the world, groups of ex-pats convene on alternate sunday afternoons to either run or walk along a trail that has been discovered by a member of the group and is different every time. This always takes place out of the city in the surrounding countryside for a nominal participation fee. Now theoretically this sounded alright as it doesn't take much for me to be convinced I need to get out of the city. I was less certain, however, about darting through paddy fields after some posh, triple-barreled-surname British ex-pat wearing lycra. However, off we went in the taxi and after the Bangalore suburbs had dropped away to reveal swaying palm trees and lush green fields, I was definitely up for a good walk. There were about twenty-five of us, a mixture of ex-pats and local Bangaloreans and everyone was very friendly and welcoming.

Maya was asleep by the time we arrived so we quickly transferred her from the car to Andy's back in the sling where she continued sleeping for a little while, but she soon woke up and enjoyed picking flowers from Andy's back, pointing out oxen with long horns and also spotting the white chalked signs along the way that marked our trail. It was at this point that I became aware that the Hash House Harriers weren't your average walking / running group: this marking system is designed to throw participants off the correct trail and on in the wrong direction. When you reach a certain symbol, there are various ways you can go and you have to try them all out until you've spotted a white arrow which then determines you're on the right path. If there's no arrow, then back you go and you have to try the next trail! Okay, I have a sense of humour. I can see the fun in that (I think?), but with a babe on one's back, I'm not sure how many times I'd be prepared to go shooting off down the wrong trail before giving up on the expedition and declaring the whole bunch of them crazy loons. Thankfully, one of the organisers kept giving the sole family group a nudge nudge wink wink in the right direction. We were even guided round an almost vertical hill rather than over it. Phew.

Speaking of this particular organiser, he was carrying a large claxon (you can see it in his hand in photo 1 above), another peculiar element of every HHH as it was constantly honked as we walked round. Quite functional I suppose to prevent people from losing the trail (even though they blatantly encouraged people to lose this very trail), but honestly, can you imagine a stranger sight for the local villagers: A load of half-running, half-walking people tearing through fields and along paths and then reversing back down the same path, many of them dressed in lycra (so yes, my suspicions were confirmed on this front) and two of them carrying small children on their back, one little girl even tied on with a sari for goodness sake. Yes, there is no doubt about it. We must have looked like a load of nutters.

For a person that loves taking photographs and stopping to chat with locals, I quickly learnt that this just wasn't possible with the HHH (though I did manage to sneak a quick pic with some beautiful girls in one of the villages - see picture 2). The pace is rapid so it's very good exercise and after a brief stop half way round for watermelon and cold water, Maya and Lily were still in good spirits so we decided to continue rather than return with the beer van. Beer van you're asking? Yes. Beer van. Upon completion of our 8km circuit, we were handed out ice cold beer and samosas which was fantastic. See picture 3 above which shows how happy I was about this. But it became rapidly apparent that of equal importance to the HHH is its title as drinking club and soon, things got downright weird. We stood in a circle and announcements were read out to members who all have nicknames such as 'Bottom sniffer' and 'The Illiterate' and then an enormous block of ice was produced from the beer van on which the HHH's in turn started to park their behinds on and then down beer from plastic urine bottles. Yes, really. The HHH song was sung, as was Swing Low Sweet Chariot and I realised that what I was witnessing was a load of overgrown university students, yearning for the drinking clubs of their student days (Andy's laughing at me for being stuffy, but I only heave a big sigh of relief for having left those 10 pints a night well behind me!)

Maya was fascinated by the ice and started licking it and just when I was thinking how hilarious this all was, the 'novices' were then called upon to sit on it. I protested, saying that I was holding Maya, but was assured that the bottoms of the 'Hash Horrors' (as the kids are known) wouldn't suffer at all as they could sit on our laps. Oh. Right. So Maya sat on my lap and Lily on Andy's and let me tell you, sitting on a big block of ice for a long time is damn chilly. We duly drank out beer out of the urine bottle but then things went from weird to weirder as it was decided that I was not drinking mine fast enough and the remaining contents of my bottle were tipped over my head. Let me repeat - ON MY HEAD. So by this point I had a cold, wet bum and head, shirt and jeans covered in Kingfisher Beer. Maya was staring at everyone in the group like the whole world had gone beserk and frankly, I couldn't have agreed more.

The locals who had witnessed this group of people descend on their normally peaceful spot, go off for a run and then return and pour beer over one another thought this all looked like great fun and joined in sitting on the ice block and drinking out of urine bottles (see photo 5).

On the way back in the taxi my hair was standing up in stiff points from dried, smelly beer and my jeans (why did I wear jeans??) were unpleasantly damp. But Maya and Lily spent the entire hour journey on the way back laughing, whether with me or at me is unclear. Would we go next time? Ask me again once I've got the beer out of my hair. What IS clear is the Hash House Harriers are bonkers.

The Art of Sharing (or not)

Last week, a beautiful young woman and her small daughter appeared at the end of our street selling food to rickshaw drivers and passers-by out of large stainless steel tupperware. Because both she and her daughter were interested in Maya and Lily, we started to talk a little each time we went by, she in her stilted English and me attempting a few words in my appauling Kannada. The child is older than Maya, though she looks far younger but she is a gorgeous little girl with a big smile and boundless energy and she plays patiently by the roadside for the entire day whilst her mother sells food.

A couple of days ago, I was asked if we had any clothes we could give her daughter and I rummaged through Maya's cupboard and found a few things. One item was a dress that had been badly wripped, so I took it to the tailor to get it mended. Because the tailors here are so amazing, it looked as good as new when it was returned to me. The dress had been a favourite of Maya's, so when I told Maya initially we were going to give the dress to the little girl, that was fine. But now that it was restored to its former glory, this posed more of a problem. When we went to hand it over, I could see Maya really thinking about it, remembering how much she loved this dress. But then she looked at me, looked at the little girl and gave it to her. I was really, really proud of her. But for fear of sounding like a sanctimonious 'oh-yes-my -daughter-is-so-kind-considerate-and-emotionally-advanced-child' kind of parent, when we got home, she promptly threw a huge tantrum because she didn't want to share something with Lily, kicking out at her sister so violently that Lily actually sank her little teeth into her. So yes, it's all swings and roundabouts!

The photo is not actually of this little girl but a child called Malama who lives on the other side of the park and Maya has given her nail varnish, a pineapple and a school bag. In return, Malama festoons Maya with flowers plucked from the bushes.

Blatant bit of self-publicity

I know, I know, I have a habit of elbowing my way into Maya's blog from time to time for a moan or a blatant bit of self-publicity. I've just asked the little lady if it's okay and she eyed me suspiciously but has agreed.

My article on 'Dealing with Insomnia' has just come out in The Green Parent magazine. Hopefully none of you have it so won't really need to read it, but just in case you're in a newsagents, you might like to have a quick flick. Click here to see the front cover so you know it if you spot it.

Also, have you ever googled yourselves?? It sounds like a highly ego-maniacal activity but yields most bizarre results. Actually, it was Andy that googled me the other day (yeah yeah you're saying) and it was a bit of a shock to see stories I've written up there which I have NO recollection of submitting! Ah well, I don't mind. It could well have been one of those long nights of insomnia that I'm on another planet and went on a story submitting frenzy. I don't blame you for a second if you feel like you read enoough of my words, but if you ever have the misfortune of sitting up late into the night, not being able to sleep you may like to look at these two stories. Click here to see London to Ladakh which is a true story and here for The Luncheon which is a figment of my warped imagination.

ps - Picture above - very random I know, but my latest thing is taking photos of peeling film posters. People think I am - in a word - nuts.

Where's the power?

Having written just a short while ago how pleased we were that the monsoon had finally put in an appearance, I may have been a little hasty as it's now gone on strike again. This really is bad news for thousands of farmers and all the people who rely on this yearly deluge of rainfall to water their crops. It's also bad news for the reservoirs that are normally filled with water which then power the wind turbines to give us electricity, which means electricity is in very short supply. We are getting on average about three power cuts a day, lasting anywhere from half an hour to three hours.

To begin with, Maya found the power cuts quite entertaining. Thankfully (?) she'd been educated by a little pink cartoon pig called Peppa Pig on what power cuts were so when they began, she threw herself into the torch and candle hunting game with gusto. And Andy and I enjoyed it too. We'd reach for the guitar (see above!), have a candlelit dinner and really talk. Yes, that old-fashioned pastime. But then came the more irritating part of it: the freezer defrosts and leaves puddles on the floor which Maya and Lily skid about on, the food goes off, the washing machine stops mid-cycle and leaves a heap of half-washed nappies in the drum that smell so bad that Maya walks into her room, announces 'PONGY!' and makes a swift exit. What else...I often can't do my writing in the mornings (I know, I know, out with the violins) and I had a yoga class last night in pitch black. Which was surreal. These small things are nothing, nothing in comparison to the plight of the poor farmers, but still, on a day to day basis it can be a little awkward.

As far as Maya is concerned, the power cuts are now a downright inconvenience and she couldn't care less if Peppa Pig finds them fun. The reason for this is because the laptop only hangs on for so long without power before giving up the ghost and if this comes in the middle of watching one of her beloved DVD's, the fit she throws is quite spectacular. We've tried explaining to her that it's beyond our abilities to bring it back but frankly, she doesn't believe us and thinks it's some plot to get her to watch less TV. Sigh. What can a parent do? Having said this, if the power goes off at a more fortuitous moment when she's nowhere near the laptop, Maya is sometimes more enthusiastic about them and runs off to fetch the candles. She now regularly does this whether it's dark or not. Yesterday for example, she made us sit and eat lunch by candlelight with the bright sunshine pouring in through the window!

So, could you do a little rain dance for us? Otherwise we'll have the pong of half-washed nappies forever lodged up our noses and I may well give myself a black eye trying to do sun salutations in the dark. Ta.

Taking to the streets

As you already know, we like walking. Oh yes. So when we heard about the 3 hour long 'Bangalore Walks' we just could not resist, even if it meant a 6am start (nothing new there anyway) and a possibility of tired, grumpy children if we did not bring enough 'diversion' snacks to post into their mouths at frequent intervals.

We opted for the 'Victorian Bangalore Walk', run by a very knowledgeable guy called Arun who succeeded in transforming the building site that central Bangalore has become to a quiet little Victorian cantonment town full of sedate bungalows with sprawling gardens , churches, lakes and British military. We learnt all kinds of interesting things such as the young Winston Churchill having lived there for 3 years where he read voraciously, tended his roses, played polo and never paid his bill at the prestigious Bangalore Club. We also felt very sorry for poor Mr Dobbie who came a-cropper with a tiger and is now commemorated on the walls of Holy Trinity Church. There definitely aren't enough wild tigers around these days to do much harm to the public; what we had to be far more wary of on our walk were cars and crazy drivers. Oh, if only they'd tread the same path to extinction as the poor tigers, then Bangalore would be far more pleasant!

Maya did brilliantly on the walk. When she was dragged out of bed at 6am she kept asking sleepily 'Where's our going?' When we replied we were going on an adventure, she seemed reasonably satisfied with that.It was a long morning for her, but she partly walked, was partly carried and thankfully, just as we'd run out of snacks and she'd decided that she'd really had enough, we took a break and the discerning Arun re-fuelled us all with biscuits and mango juice.

The walk ended with a delicious breakfast on the top floor of a high building with fantastic views of the city. Though I'm constantly lamenting the loss of Bangalore's trees, one can see from this height that it is, in fact, still a very green city and still just about deserving of its claim as 'the garden city.' Whilst we were having breakfast, another of the walkers asked me if we found it difficult feeding the girls in India. I said that whereas Lily liked food that was a bit spicy, Maya refused to go near it. She overheard me and in protestation said loudly , 'I do like spicy food!' 'You do?' I asked. And in reply, she popped a large bit of idly (steamed rice cake) covered in spicey coconut chutney in her mouth. Perhaps this reverse psychology is the way forward!

Muddling through in the Monsoon

I don't have any photos of the monsoon yet. When I do I'll be sure to post them up. But for those of you who read my blog last week about the difficulties often presented by the pavement, I thought this photo provided a good example of this. This little boy has just stopped and is thinking what I often think when we come to a similar 'drop': what now??! The answer is, of course, go on the road. But now you see why pushchairs are just not an option here.

But back to the monsoon...I've lost count of the number of times we've been caught out by it recently. The other day Andy found Maya, Lily and I dripping wet under a tree after a hasty exodus from the park. I was in mid-spiel to Maya at the time, telling her how I really must stop talking about getting an umbrella and actually get one. It is very, very good that the monsoon seems to be finally kicking in. It's good news for the farmers, good news for the reservoirs and good news for the parched earth. It's also good news for the umbrella sellers, but these elusive people are much like buses: you wait for an eternity for one to turn up and then two come at the same time. I just couldn't find an umbrella when I needed it but then came across a street in which there were several sellers.

Maya put in a request for a pink one, but the only colour they came in was black. She was most unimpressed. But I want a pink one! she hollered. I eyed the strengthening rain and she was overruled, much to her disdain. However, once back outside Maya decided that any umbrella was quite a fun novelty. Have you ever walked behind a small child dwarfed under a huge umbrella, zig-zagging precariously along? Well, that is what Maya was doing yesterday, but throw the above 'pavement-pause' scenario into the equation and let's just say that it's not the safest journey in the world. If you look at the photo again and this time imagine that the little boy is staring down at a huge black umbrella which has got itself lodged in the pavement gap and a little curly-haired child is shouting back up 'Oops! Mummy! Can you get me out?' If your powers of imagination have served you well then you can imagine my concern at Maya walking along under the umbrella! She was not happy when I took the umbrella off her and hoisted her hood up instead (mental note to myself: must keep her raincoat on us at all times) but as much as she'd probably disagree, I'd rather she got wet than did a vanishing act into the pavement.

Shananigans

On the way home in the rickshaw yesterday, I asked Maya what she had done at school. 'Fackin' she replied with a face as straight as her hair is curly. Although she had no intention of saying the word that is so closely resembled, I must confess it came as a bit of a surprise to hear this sound coming from her lips. Sorry, I said, What was that? And again, she replied enthusiastically, Fackin! Right, I have no idea what fackin involves at Kidzone pre-school, but whatever it is, I can only hope that it soon starts sounding more like what it actually is!

I knew very well what Maya had, in actual fact, spent doing at school that morning and that was rallying the teachers around her cause of hypochondria. When I went to pick her up, one of the teachers said in an incredibly concerned voice, Oh dear, what happened to poor Maya? I looked at her quizically and she reminded me about her knee. Her knee? I asked. Yes, yes, her poor knee, the teacher replied sympathetically. And then I remembered. First thing that morning, Maya had got hold of the plasters and said in her best woe-is-me voice I'm not feeling very well (a-la-Charlie-and-Lola - still!) and then promptly found the biggest plaster she could find and stuck it over her knee. Evidently Maya enjoyed the concern so much that she'd decided to keep the plaster on and lap up all the sympathy. Does anyone else have a child that is a complete and utter hypochondriac?? The girl is obsessed with being ill! Is this normal? Suggestions??!

If you are what you eat, then Maya is a big sugar lump

We are trying to get as much sightseeing in as possible as we are all too aware that the half way mark of our stay here in Bangalore has come and gone and before we know it, we'll be on a plane back to England. The traffic here is reduced to a third of what it normally is on sunday, so obviously this is a good day to visit places that are a little further away. Yesterday we went to the ISKON temple (International Society for Krishna Consciousness) which is located on one of the city's only hills. It was a fascinating experience to witness the throng of devotees pulsing through the temple, praying and receiving blessings along the way.

One of the important Hare Krishna principles is that nobody should go hungry and there is a massive programme going on in and around the city whereby thousands of under-priveleged children are fed a simple but nutritious vegetarian meal each day by outreach Krishna believers. Even at the temple, we were amazed to see that once people have been inside and prayed, they are greeted with a large area of food, and you don't have to pay for any of it. It was a little crowded and since Lily zooms off at brakeneck speed the second we put her down, we opted for the more tranquil restaurant, also serving up an array of delicious food. There was a yummy buffet costing 70 rupees (less than a pound) - amazing value.

This is what Andy, Lily and I ate: Vegetable rice, plain rice and curd rice, coconut and cardamom paneer, spicey lentil and carrot soup, fragrant daal, sambar, poppadoms, mini naans and I'm sure a hundred and one other things I've forgotten.

This is what Maya ate: Rice smeared in sticky sugar, sugar coated rice crispies, raisins and a large slab of toffee that came with the meal as our dessert. Oh, and she also nibbled the corner of a bit of raw carrot after much coaxing. So yes, as I have mentioned before, Maya doesn't really dig Indian food. Shame.

Speaking of food and lunches, we miss our sunday lunches we often used to have with friends and family back in England. (In fact, did you know that the word 'companion' derives from the latin 'with bread' - cum: with & panis: bread, showing how important it was to break bread / have a meal with the people you knew.) We got into quite a pattern - Andy would often do the first course, I'd do the pudding and Maya & Lily would do the table banging and mess making. I mention these lunches because we recently learnt about The Big Lunch campaign going on on 19th July which we are very sad to be missing. If you are reading this in England and haven't heard about it, it's a great idea dreamed up by the Eden Project and asks people to have a street lunch party. How great is that? Click here for more details. I would LOVE to do it here but it's either too hot or too wet at the moment and then there's the issue of the dog poo on the streets aswell. But maybe we'll go back to the ISKON temple on the 19 July to help celebrate The Big Lunch vicariously and join the crowd of lunchers outside the temple this time. After all, you can't get much more community-spirited than that.

Bollywood beckoning?

As I have recounted numerous times, Maya loves dancing with a passion. Her latest thing is to open an imaginary present and then ask me to dress her in its contents: a ballet dress and ballet slippers. All pink, naturally. Once dressed, she jumps up and pirouettes round the room with wild abandon. Because of her love of dancing, when I heard about a Bollywood dance class going on for 3-7 years, I jumped at the opportunity. Maya too seemed very excited about it and off we went.

It all started really well...on came the music and she jumped up and down and vaguely followed the prompts of the teacher. But after about ten minutes, she suddenly walked to the back of the room and started playing with the puzzles, just like that. Obviously I didn't want to push it so we stayed at the back playing while the other kids strutted their stuff, gently asking every so often if she wanted to join them again. But of this, Maya was absolutely certain. She just wasn't interested. A little while later, we went in to another room at the back where there were other toys but we could still hear the music. And suddenly, being alone she jumped up and threw herself into an energetic dance. "Oh!" I said. "Do you want to go back and dance with the others?" Maya declined. "But you love dancing, Maya." Then she looked straight at me and with a very grown-up, clear little voice these are the exact words she responded with. "Yes, but I love dancing at home." And that said it all.

Maya is a private, independent little person. She dances to her own tune and she dances on her own terms. I could be wrong, but I don't think Maya is ever going to be performer. But the fact that she derives so much pleasure from dancing alone is more than enough. In fact, it's brilliant.

Please can I carry you?

Sometimes I have visions of Maya as a strapping twenty year old girl out for a walk with her family, and then suddenly it all getting too much and asking to be carried. So Andy, or me, or Lily even have to then haul her on to our back or over our shoulder and stagger on so Maya can have her rest. Because the thing is, you see, that Maya has always been carried, as the photos I've included above will attest. We are sling people. We love slings. But yes, Maya has got very, very used to it. She hasn't quite got the hang of who's doing the carrying though and who's being carried as the way she asks to be carried is 'Please can I carry you? Please? Please?' We point out that this would be lovely but we may be a bit too heavy for her, but hey, it's all just irrelevant semantics to her and before we know it, she's hurled herself on to Andy's back and is demanding her chariot.

Now I'm not saying that, like other little people, Maya's not a good walker. When she's in the right mood. But when she has the choice between using her own little legs and slinging it, she'll always go for the latter. She knows this is nigh on impossible when I'm already carrying Lily (I know someone that used to carry one child on her front and another on her back but she is superwoman and I am not) so doesn't ask, but if we're all out and about, I know for Indian people who simply carry their kids in their arms, we are a sight to behold.

The last picture in this sequence was taken yesterday morning as Maya's daddy takes her to school on his back every morning. She is wearing her favourite Indian outfit and has her bag on her back. Andy says she sings all the way and the pair of them attract so much attention on the twenty minute journey that they actually stop traffic. Priceless.

Why a pavement is not just a pavement

Some of the local people I have met here find it unusual, if not somewhat eccentric, that our family walk as much as we do. This is not a city for walkers, but we are walkers, what can I say? I've always loved walking (okay, except perhaps for when I was very little and my mother constantly kicked us outside for fresh air and treks which I protested at the time but for which nowI'm very grateful!) and hope that Maya and Lily will one day derive as much pleasure from it as Andy and I do.

My love for using my legs does, however, present us with certain challenges here. Let me give you an example of why a pavement is not just a pavement in Bangalore. Yesterday afternoon Maya, Lily and I walked about 400 metres to a new kids club that had opened to just check it out. Maya's latest thing is undertaking journeys armed with notebook and pen to 'jot down' interesting things on the way (there's my girl!) and therefore, on this journey, I also had a chance to note down a few things that made our short journey not your average amble along the pavement. Pavements, after all, are meant to be safe...aren't they?!?!

Here are a few things we encountered:

* A pack of mangey, stray dogs sleeping on the pavement who woke up and bared their teeth at us when we stepped over them.
*Potholes. Many, many of them that lead to heaven only knows where.
*A couple of urinating men (weeing on the verge I might add, not actually on the pavement)
* A motorbike parked lengthways across our path. To get round it we had to edge round quite a precipitous slope as for some unfathomable reason the pavement at this point sat at a 90 degree angle.
* Leaves and wood. Lots of it. Possibly the latest victim of Bangalore's tree-hacking culture.
*On a couple of occasions the pavement simply ran out and there was a large drop back on to the road which Maya thought it was great fun to hurl herself from (jumping is another of her latest fads). It was almost as though whoever constructed it just ran out of steam and thought oh sod it, I can't be bothered to do anymore.
*And before you think it's all bad, we also encountered a chai stand on wheels bang smack in our path, laden with tea and biscuits. I didn't get anything though (much to Maya's chagrin) - we're suffering from enough teeth rot thank you very much.

As I have said countless times before there is never, ever a dull moment in India. We love it (apart from the tree-hacking).