Homework? Not on yer life

I've written a little before about my impressions of the education system here, including how much homework kids seem to get from a very young age. But what I wasn't prepared for really was that my own daughter, aged 3 years and 2 months, be sent back with homework! On friday when I went to pick Maya up, I was handed one of her many workbooks and told that she was required to do a few exercises over the weekend. I must have been looking dumbfounded because I think Paula (Maya's beloved teacher who is standing behind her in the photo) must have thought I didn't understand what she was saying and so got out her notebook and showed me the same request, this time written down. To be fair, it was only a matter of colouring in a picture (not of a tree or animal or anything but a computer - that's a sign of the times I suppose!) and also filling out three lines of marking in 'downward lines' in her exercise book...but still. I do feel that giving homework to three year olds is a tad silly. But Maya's only there for another week and I wasn't about to argue with the formidable Paula so I just took the book and off we went.

Over the weekend, an opportunity presented itself for Maya to do this 'homework' as we were sitting at the kitchen table with her book within easy reach. Ah well, I thought, perhaps she'll quite enjoy it since she does seem to love school and will be proud of the sense of achievement at the end of it and all the rest of it....We opened the book up and I explained to Maya what she had to do. She nodded thoughtfully and took up her pen whilst I went into the kitchen to make a drink, thinking that perhaps homework age three wasn't such a bad thing after all. But this is what had happened when I returned to Maya a few moments later:

She'd taken her pen up alright but instead of doing her 'downward lines' (which she does so beautifully at school - I've seen them - unless the teachers do them for her!), she had scribbled all over the page, and the one after that (which was probably meant for this week's homework). Oh, I said to Maya, that's a bit messy. And she just looked at me through her curls with that defiant, stubborn little stare of hers and closed the book in a very definite way. So much for that, I say. But she's off, homework and downward lines forgotten in an instant.

Exclusive Interview

I am all too aware that sometimes Maya's voice gets lost in all this blogging business, so I think it's high time Maya speaks for herself. Often, she sits in front of the laptop tapping away at the keys and when I ask her what she's doing she casts me one of her well-whaddya-think-I'm-doing looks and says 'I'm writing my blog, Mummy.' So yes, if the little lady could actually write, I'm sure she'd have a very different take on many of the things that feature in her blog. But, since she can't yet write, here's an exclusive, unabridged interview with the girl of the moment!


Please can you tell me your full name?

My name's called Maya Elizabef Narra-COTT

How old are you, Maya?

(Sticks 3 fingers up my nose) Free

Do you like India?

Mmm

Why do you like India?

'Cos my best friend was there.

Who is you best friend?

Aanya. Yes, and Ashiswini and those 2 girls, Anou and Jaya. And Ashiswini. And Aanya.

Do you remember England?

Yes.

Are you excited about going back to England?

Yes.

Who do you want to see in England?

Mummy, let's go on a farm and see that boy.

Which boy?

The one on the farm. The one with the beard.

(Lots of headscratching from Mummy ensues. But we never get to the bottom of this one.)

What will we see in the airplane?

My best friend.

When we get to England, who will we see?

Nannie Liz. (Editor's note: This is her paternal grandmother)

Who else?

Nu-nu. (Ed: her auntie)

Anyone else?

Errrr....Granny Amma and Tata. (Ed: Maternal grandparents)

Anyone else?

(Very impatient look) No Mummy, that's enough people. I'd like to see a picture now.

Can I just ask you a few more questions?

Yes.

Do you remember Godmanchester?

Yes.

What do you remember about it?

No people there.

Is there anything else you'd like to write on your blog now?

Sweetcorn and olives.

What's your favourite food in India?

Dosa and besgetti (Ed: I think she means spaghetti)

What do you like about your school?

Because teacher Paula was there. Is called teacher Paula.

Why is she nice?

Because she's getting fatter and fatter.

Oh. That's not very PC is it?

Huh?

Nevermind. Thanks for your time, Maya.

All the fun of the festival

I must confess to feeling a little sad today, because if we were in England right now we would, without a shadow of a doubt, be heading to Shambala Festival tomorrow. We've been two years running and it is seriously good fun. English festivals are brilliant because all British reserve and restraint is chucked firmly out the window and festival goers dance, crawl, twirl and waltz, jive, skip, hula-hoop and romp their way through what is essentially a huge field converted into a magical adventure playground filled with music, games, stalls and people dressed in an assortment of weird and wonderful clothing for a few days. So this is just a quick blog to say, we love you India, but we wish we were there Shambala!

The first photo was taken at Shambala '07 and the next three are Shambala '08 with 3 month old Lily attending her second festival (at 2 months she went to Latitude Festival!). Maya loved both her Shambala experiences - highlights were dancing on Daddy's back and swinging in a hammock with the backdrop of an English stately home and ladies in leotards, stockings and wellies. I had a quick look at the Shambala website just to torment myself and see that there are still some tickets going. So if you're at a loose end this weekend, get yourself down there. Immediately. You won't regret it! Here's the website. Failing that, have a quick look at this wonderfully quirky band, Gadjo, we watched perform at the festival last year.

However, before we feel too sad, it's the Ganesha festival going on here at the moment. There are lots of noisy drums and street parties taking place day and night and huge, very brightly painted elephant God statues everywhere you look. Maya likes counting them all as we tear past in rickshaws and now seems just at home saying 'Look!It's the elephant God, Ganesh!' than she was last year around Christmas time when she tore up and down the streets of Cambridge dressed as an angel in mini-evangelist mode calling 'I love baby Jesus!'

Last child in the woods

Every child comes with a message that God is not yet discouraged by man.

Rabindranath Tagore


Tagore was a Bengali poet, writer, artist and general all-round genius whom I was introduced to last time in India. Yesterday, as we were walking to a park we don't normally go to, we passed a gate on which the above was emblazoned across. What wonderful words. I'm never without pen and paper so wrote them down and as we continued our journey to the park, I thought about them and how right he is that children possess that wonderful ability of pure, unbridled enthusiasm and joyfulness. I know we must not over-romanticise childhood because as a child the world can seem huge and scary and confusing. But what is certain is that, as children, we still have not piled on ourselves (and allowed others to impose on us) the demands and insecurities that characterise our older years.

Anyway, the reason we were going to this new park was because I recently read a review of a book called 'Last Child in the Woods'. It's written by a guy called Richard Louv and sounds fascinating. He's coined the term "nature deficit disorder" to explain how children now spend so little time alone in nature, exploring. In his own words, "In nature, a child finds freedom, fantasy
and privacy: a place distant from the adult world, a separate peace." I know, we've heard it all before, that we don't let our kids out of sight these days, but it's true: we over-parent, over-worry, are over-paranoid and I know evil people out there exist who abduct our children but Louv claims that children today are no more likely to be abducted than they were 30 years ago.

The reason I'm waffling on about this is because, as much as I like many things about Bangalore, sometimes I just heave a great big sigh and would like to be transported to wild, wide, green open spaces so Maya and Lily can run through long grass under vast skies. But hey, right now, it's not possible. So the next best thing is going to a park and I thought it would be fun to try out a new one. I did an activity with Maya where she had to find one thing of about eight different colours in the park. When we'd done this, I started thinking about that book and decided to let Maya and Lily have a little 'wander'. They were funny - they held hands and off they toddled behind a couple of small kids they'd spontaneously befriended whilst I sat on a bench. Every 30 seconds or so, they'd turn round and wave at me and Maya would yell 'We're going on an adventure!' I know it's not the same as being in nature 'proper' BUT Maya seemed genuinely excited and proud of being in charge of Lily, away from her mama and doing her own thing.

So there I was, sitting on the bench and taking a trip down memory lane, reminiscing about my own lucky childhood when I spent countless hours both with my siblings and alone dreaming, imagining and playing in the fields at the bottom of our garden. I don't know how long I was sitting there for before I realised that Maya and Lily had vanished from my sight....so much for 'letting go'! I jumped up and tore off to find them (largely because daughter number 2 has barely been walking for two weeks rather than fear of abduction!). When I rounded the corner, the pair of little devils had already climbed almost to the top of some stone steps on the outside of a small house in the park, Maya helping Lily hoist her chubby legs up from one step to the next.

I look forward to the day when I can really let them explore. I've said this before and I'll say it again: oh, for a plot of land and a cob house and a few fat chickens surrounded by fields!

(ps - the first photo above was taken last weekend, not in Bangalore I hasten to add, but a night we spent away at a farm, and picture two was taken last summer in England.)

Where have all the flowers in Bangalore gone?

Where have all the flowers in Bangalore gone? Yes, this is a good question, but one that can be answered quite easily. They've gone in Maya's grubby (or sweet-smelling I should say), thieving little mitts. Maya has, like many other children of her age I have no doubt, an obsession with flowers. Trying to walk anywhere takes a very, very long time, not because Maya is a slow walker but because this being the 'garden city', there are lots of flower-filled bushes everywhere. Even on polluted, grimy streets. So here's what happens: we walk a couple of steps and then Maya chirps 'Oooh, hang on, hang on', runs back to pluck a couple of flowers from a bush. Then we start again and maybe manage to move five or six steps this time before she sees a poor little fallen flower on the ground which she thinks needs her loving care and so scoops that one up. Off we go again, but this time she sees another one lying in the gutter and I have to literally restrain her to stop her from climbing down to rescue it. Yup, you get the idea.

To begin with, I found Maya's flower obsession quite sweet. After all, sometimes we do lovely things with the flowers like arrange them into a small bowl with water, as we did this weekend in the picture above. But I have to say that it's all gone a bit over the top now, as Maya wants to pick literally every flower from each stem, bush and tree that we encounter. Andy and I have tried a few different tacks: that the flowers look so lovely on the stem, for everyone to enjoy. Or that actually the poor flowers die quicker once they're picked. She doesn't believe us, and as far as Maya is concerned, every pretty flower in Bangalore (particularly if it's pink) has her name on it. I've lost count of the number of times I've found a foul-smelling, rotting heap of month-old petals hidden at the back of a cupboard or stuffed deep into the pocket of a skirt.

This morning, we went to our favourite Sai Baba temple briefly and it wasn't till after we'd left the temple that I realised Maya had thieved a small rose from the offering table no less. There's an important religious Ganesha festival going on at the moment and this act would, I have no doubt, be met with more than a few raised eyebrows. But we were all strapped back up into sandals again at this point and I didn't much feel like going back to lay the rose on the puja temple so I just gasped, swiftly admonished Maya and we scarpered, my little flower thief cackling in tow.

Aanya

Now that Lily is tearing all over the place, Maya considers her far more fun and worthy of her attention than she did so previously, even claiming occasionally 'We're best friends!'. But her non-family best friend is most definitely Aanya Gupta. They are in the same class at school and Aanya is a gregarious, mischievous little imp who was passed on to Maya the fantastic Indian head wobble (Maya has now honed this to perfection) which can mean anything from absolutely yes to definitely not to well, I'll think about it. She also acts as a kind of guardian to Maya at school. Even though I don't witness this in the mornings, both Andy and Aanya's mother, Anjali, tell me that every morning in the playground before the bell rings, Aanya covets one slide and if anybody with the exception of Maya tries to go on this slide - woe betide them, they are in for a nasty shock as Aanya pushes them off whilst Maya looks on with feigned coyness before climbing up their personal slide. Honestly.

Occasionally, we all go out for lunch after we've collected the girls from school and whilst both Maya and Aanya love this opportunity to spend more time together, it almost always ends in tears as the two little pixies invariably run riot in the restaurant or cafe or wherever we go, pulling fist-fulls of leaves off pot plants (poor plants), sliding up and down slippery floors till they bang into the wall and playing in front of and behind doors until one or the other gets their fingers trapped. Occasionally, Aanya forgets that Maya can't speak anything other than English and launches into a dramatic account of something in Hindi. Maya gives me a look which reads Eh? What's she on about? and I give her a look back which says No idea whatsoever but let's just nod. Or even better, let's wobble our heads. So the two of us stand there wobbling our heads (Maya does it much better than me) until Anjali comes to the rescue and translates for us.

The two cheeky little girls have only a couple of weeks left to spend in one another's company which is a shame. I know they'll miss one another. But perhaps we'll have the opportunity to come back to Bangalore one day and they'll be reunited. And then, if Maya loses the head wobble (which I'm sure she will), Aanya can re-teach it to her.

My curly-haired lovelies

Today is World Photography Day. Honestly, it really is. I haven't made it up (I am discovering more and more that there are world days for something or other the entire time, some of them more obscure than others but if there can be a World Laughter Day there can definitely be a World Photography Day!). Anyway, to celebrate WPD I am posting 3 pictures of my lovely curly-haired family (you can't really see Lily's curls in this picture but they're a-comin'! And no, neither of them get their curls from me. Andy has the curls, I have the wavy mop - or 'bird's nest' as a hairdresser once commented). What a treat to be in Bangalore with these three brilliant people. I'm going to echo the words Maya uses when she gets given a treat and say that I am a very lucky girl!

There was a little girl and she had a little curl

There was a little girl
and she had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead
And when she was good she was very very good
But when she was bad she was HORRID!

Old English Nursery Rhyme

(Have I already included this rhyme somewhere in this blog?? Memory? That went out the window with childbirth.) Anyway, the reason I've written this rhyme down is because it must, surely, have been written for my firstborn. I mean, just look at that curl (or curls I should say), and isn't this the face of a lovely little girl.....or not.

Yesterday is a case in point, a day filled with highs and lows, tantrums and tears, loveliness and laughter. Admittedly, this sounds like your average day with a three year old but yesterday was particularly extreme in emotions. Maya was tired, her mama was tired and we were driving each other up the wall. We are also far too similar and sometimes clash like crazy symbols.

Soooo, this is what happened when she was rather horrid. We were in a taxi on our way to the children's library (we go every week, but it's getting a bit silly now as we've taken out every decent book already so are having to go back to the ones we took out at the beginning again!). Maya suddenly noticed that Lily was wearing a few of her pink sparkly bangles (which she put on her little sister herself, but we won't mention that, Maya) and decided she wanted them back. Lily was having none of it, every time Maya reached for her wrist, Lily swiped at her. Maya was not amused and tried another tactic: yelling. I told her that yelling would get her nowhere and tried to ignore both her and the shifty glances of the taxi driver that blatantly read Hey, what's wrong with your kid? Can't you shut her up? No reasoning would work and by the time we got to the library, she climbed out of the car and flung herself to the ground (luckily there was - halleluljah - a pavement outside the children's library so at least this didn't take place on the road) and flailed about like an upside-down ladybird trying to turn itself around for a good five minutes. Every time I approached her to calm her down she tried to kick me. The taxi driver stood outside his vehicle staring at me as much as Maya before asking 'Madam, what is wrong with your daughter?' (What he was really asking was 'what is wrong with you to produce such a child, Madam?) I had no words to answer him so just gave him a withering look before scooping the demented ladybird off from the pavement and frog-marching her into the library. So, yes. Not our finest moment.

But this was her lovely, good moment: We were on the way back from school in the rickshaw and I was asking Maya all the normal questions about how school was and what she'd done etc etc when she suddenly piped up and said to me 'Mummy, when you're a big girl, I will take you to school if you like.' Sweet. But what made it funny was the way she said it....anyone who has a three year old or has had a three year old will know that kids of this age aren't always too articulate, particularly when they're feeling impassioned about what they're saying, which Maya often is. So this was how it came out: 'Mu-mu-mu-mu-mu-mummy, when when when you're when you're when when when when you're (at this point I'm nodding my head up and down like crazy, trying to encourage her to get to the point) a big girl, when when you're you're you're. Mummy. When you're a big girl Mummy, when you're a big girl I I I I.....okay, you get the picture. It was a rather protracted conversation but we got there in the end and when it was all out and expressed, that little curl in the middle of her forehead was positively glowing. Which is just as well, because I was still at that point blissfully unaware of how she'd fulfil the other half of the nursery rhyme prophecy just a few hours later!

The weekenders

This morning, Maya's school re-opened, but only about twenty kids turned up out of one hundred or so, scared off by swine flu panic. Maya was overjoyed to be reunited with her friend Aanya and probably even more delighted to be dished out with an endless supply of sweeties and chocolates by her teachers. I am so over this one. Honestly. (Do I sound convincing?) I was longing to make a monday morning nose-dive for the laptop to catch up on some of the writing I'd missed out on last week, only to be greeted with a power cut that lasted from 5am-3pm...sigh!

We had a lovely, relaxing weekend. We realised that it was our third to last weekend in Bangalore so decided to visit a few new places. We went to Bangalore Palace, a huge turreted affair modelled on Windsor Castle and owned by the King of Mysore. It was a historical treasure trove but our toothless 'guide' (who demanded a large tip at the end) didn't really speak English and every time we asked him a question he just guffawed and said 'yeeeeees, very very old'. It may be modelled on Windsor Castle, but I don't know if the British Royalty would approve of its hugely kitschy interior (I loved it!) and large number of paintings all over the walls of large-breasted naked women (I say!) and even some lesbian action pictures. Maya kept losing us and skipping off down narrow passageways only to be chased after by Mr.Toothless and found under a picture of two huge breasts before being returned to her family. I tried to take a photo of the palace for Maya's blog but was almost set upon by a baton-wielding guard. When I asked him why I couldn't take a photo he didn't give me an answer. Maybe they just want to keep the fact that the Maharaja of Mysore is an old perve a secret?

We also went for a late afternoon stroll in Cubbon Park, one of Bangalore's two huge parks, this one named after Mark Cubbon, a British resident who was responsible for much of the city's development in the Victorian years. It was Independence Day (or 'Pennance Day' as Maya called it) and fun to see dozens of families and people out and about with their green, white and orange Indian flags and balloons. Maya was thrown into a frenzy of excitement each time she saw either of these as she was counting them all day. When all the attention and cheek pinching all got too much however, she just retreated to the haven of her Daddy's back (picture 3) like she always does!

We also went swimming. It was a lovely warm day and as I've written before, Maya has become a little mermaid (as has Lily) and we can pretty much guarantee she'll be happy when we're at the pool. In fact, we all love it at this particular place, the Jayamahal Palace (picture one), surrounded with beautiful gardens. It struck me, as it often does here, what an amazing life we have here. We are very, very, very lucky and we never forget it. We are living in a country in which children of Maya's age are already helping their parents work. Maya's little friend Ashiswini who plays on the roadside whilst her mother sells food may never even go to school. But what an amazing privelege it is to be here. And when I first started this blog, I wrote that one of the reasons I wanted to do this was because Maya would remember so little of it. But you know what, I think I was wrong. Maya remembers are talks about Godmanchester a great deal and we lived there only up to the age of two. She will remember India. She calls herself an Indian girl, now has a brilliant head wobble and wears bindis and bangles. So yes, Maya will remember India and India will remember her.

Daddy here again

I can't believe this is only my second post. Maya - when you read this one day - I do apologise but your Mummy is such a good writer and I forget this blog is for you too! She does make me giggle and tells the story so well, but only I can tell you what happens when I go to work.

Sight of the proposed community toilet block on 'lake land'. The school is in the background and the slum out of the picture to the right.

In the last 5 months, I've helped kickstart the process of getting things built; like a community toilet block and mini wastewater treatment plant in a slum for 900 people. This was our first construction contract awarded and has since ground to an abrupt hault when some government officials turned up with sledge hammers one day and started knocking down the temporary site buildings! We could have paid them off, and every other time they came to visit us, but we are an organisation with a clear ethical principles and doing so would fuel the unending cycle of corruption.

The issue of land is a tricky one. Most slums are encroachments into Government land and are never really 'official' because making them so would legally require the Government to provide basic services (ie. drainage, lighting, water, sanitation, waste collection, etc). Many slums are densely packed making it difficult to build things like toilets because there's simply no space. The obvious place for us was next to the school (particularly as the kids have to shit in the open if they need to go during class). But this area is the bed of an old lake, one of the many that were built many moons ago to recharge the groundwater and provide a constant supply of water for the city. But the lake has now dried up (due to rampant development in recent decades that has irreparably changed the character of the watershed) and it would make perfect sense to build a toilet block there. Right now, more than 1000 people a day shit in this area because they have no toilet to use, meaning raw sewage directly entering the small river.

So the case for proper sanitation is an obvious one. But no, there is not one Government agency (and there are 9 who have some responsibility for the lakes) who will give consent for us to do this. So we've had no option but to take it to the courts to try and get a Court Order changed to allow us to build this most basic of services for the people in the slum. The process is slow and involves many meetings with senior officials and politicians. Our Project Manager is leading this task and hopefully she will have some success soon. I hope so - the sight of those school children climbing over rocks and through other people's excrement really makes me angry! It is pitiful that this is accepted and not given the urgency that it deserves by the decision makers who no doubt retain their dignity by using a proper toilet. More to follow....

Auntie Peeper

I must confess that I am wondering now that Maya's not at school how I used to keep her and Lily amused all day and every day - it feels like quite a long day! We've been doing endless jigsaw puzzles, reams of colouring and lots of visits to the park where Maya zooms round on her scooter and climbs up a big rock and plays with little Ashiswini whilst her mother sells food. It's very sweet because, despite not having one single word in common, Maya and Ashiswini get on brilliantly. They dance, chase each other and chuckle away and Andy and I have even watched them chattering in their two different languages, completely unbothered by the fact they have no idea what the other is saying! Yesterday morning, Ashiswini came over to the apartment for a little while and the three girls zipped themselves up in Lily's travel tent and made mischief.

Older women here are known as 'auntie', and I don't just mean old women, I mean that often when anyone is talking to a woman who is simply older than themselves, they refer to them as Auntie. So a child might call an adult auntie, or an adult might call an older adult auntie. It's very, very common. So this is what I am known as to Ashiswini (it makes sense really, as she'd never remember Rebecca), but imagine my bemusement yesterday in the park when not only Ashiwini staring calling to me 'Auntie! Auntie!' but also Maya! I looked around, thinking Maya was talking to someone else, but no - she was calling me! Since when did I stop being Mummy?? What made it funnier was that Maya had adopted the Indian accent version so it sounded like Unty. At that point I thought that all Maya needs now is the head wobble and she'll be well and truly there. But Andy reported later in the day that Maya DID head wobble in response to something Ashiswini said - damn, I missed it!

Speaking of Indian accents, something else Maya cries out sporadically and makes me laugh each time is Peeeeper! Peeeeper! You are doubtless wondering what this is all about. Well, here's the story: When we first turned up in India, a few times each day we heard somebody walk past the house calling out 'Peeper' with a very nasal, back-of-the-throat type voice. We had no idea what it meant but didn't think too much about it as there is always lots of noise from outside and various hoots, toots, barks and shouts going on. But on one occasion, we were leaving the house as it was being called and saw a man with a bike collecting newspapers. So this was what he was shouting - PAPER! It was a great discovery as we can give all our old newspapers in to be recycled. They even give you money to take your papers away (which we don't accept - they are doing us a favour after all). Anyway, Maya now has her impersonation down-pat and as I said, a few times a day whilst in the middle of lunch or bathtime or something, she suddenly throws back her head and shouts in a little nasal voice 'Peeper! Peeeeeeeper!' Priceless.

Swine Flu

How quickly things change. I no longer need to worry about what Maya will wear for her Independence Day fancy dress competition on friday because there will be no fancy dress competition. Literally twenty minutes after I'd finished writing Maya's blog the day before yesterday, we received a call from her school to say that they would be closed for the rest of the week (tuesday to friday) as a 'precauation' against swine flu. Yes, swine flu panic has well and truly hit Bangalore and whilst there have been confirmed cases, as far as I'm aware there have been no fatalaties as a result - just a huge amount of confusion.

When I told Maya yesterday morning that she wouldn't be going to shcool, I underestimated her - I thought she'd just assume it was the weekend again come early, but in fact she was well aware that we'd just had a weekend, looked at me highly suspiciously and said in a demanding voice 'Why not?' Hmm...I wasn't quite sure how much detail to go into with a three year old but whilst I was pondering this, she was off, whizzing around the apartment on her scooter (see photo) and didn't seem at all bothered suddenly that she was missing out on school. I know she really enjoys herself at school now, but Maya is aware that there are benefits to staying at home. A large one is that I try to do some writing every day (I'm attempting to get a first draft of my novel completed before we leave India...hmm....) which means Deepa will look after her and Maya has Deepa wrapped around not just her little finger but every finger she has. As soon as I had retreated to my room, no sooner had I closed the door than I heard her saying in her best little I'm-a-hungry-orphan-child-voice saying 'Deeeeee-pa, can I have a biscuit? Actually, two. Can I have two?' Yes, I think Maya will be fine at home.

New friends

Maya's best friend Aanya is off school for two weeks at the moment, visiting her mother's family in Delhi so Maya's been feeling rather folorn. I know she has other friends at school but the poor love can't remember any of their names (in fact, it's just occurred to me that maybe this has something to do with why Aanya is her 'best friend' - because with the likes of Baijayanthi's and Balasandhya's she plays with, Aanya is the sole name she can pronounce, let alone remember!).

Anyway, the photo above is of a couple of new friends, Anou and Jaya (which she can say - hooray). Their parents are from England but their mother's parents moved over to the UK from the Punjab and since moving to Bangalore just before us, they're feeling very at home being in India. We met them at the Kutteeram hotel a couple of weeks ago and yesterday they had us round to their house for an amazing lunch. Maya was in heaven. Since they're out here permanently, all their bits and bobs came with them from England and Maya spent about 2 hours just sitting in their room, staring open-mouthed at their pink walls, pink duvet covers, pink dolls house and pink doll prams. It all nearly ended in tears when Maya tried to kidnap one of those dolls that sucks their thumbs and whose eyes open and close but in the end she was talked out of it and settled on a purple balloon to match the outfit she'd chosen for herself.

On another note, it's Independence Day on friday and to celebrate this anniversary when the Britts finally let India come in to its own, there is a fancy dress competition at Maya's school. She has to wear something that celebrates Indian culture. Maya is completely obsessed with her purple skirt at the moment and has screamed so heartily the past few days when I've suggested she wears something else that I've just given in and let her wear the darn thing! Any ideas on how I can get her to participate dare I say it?!

A wee story

A very short short story of mine has just been published on a poetry and prose webzine called Ink, Sweat & Tears (it was written as a result of an exercise we were given in a creative writing class in Cambridge last year.) Click here if you feel like having a quick ganders.

A few photos

Andy commented the other day that whilst I have a ton of photos of Maya on this blog, there are barely any photos of anything else. This is true. Although I absolutely love taking photos, when I'm out and about, I'm always with Maya and Lily and can't really take pictures 1) for fear of directing too much attention towards whatever I'm taking the picture of and Maya going AWOL and 2) because I have Lily in the sling in front of me and on numerous occasions I've clunked her poor little head with my hefty Canon camera!

I have managed to take hundreds of pictures since being here, but looking through them realise that the vast majority are of my family and it's not at all obvious from them we're in India! So I've chosen just a few in which I hope bring out a teencey weencey bit of the colour and fabric of this amazing country.

First Steps

STOP PRESS - Lily is walking!!! (She is also looking rather strange at the moment after Deepa attacked her eyebrows with an eyeliner pencil as you might notice from the photo, but we won't dwell on that...)

She only started two days ago but is already zooming quite confidently (albeit unsteadily) around and is one happy little baby. She'll be giving her big sister a run for her money soon.

Colour Strike

This week and last week at Maya's school, the children have been asked to go in wearing a different colour each day to help them get a handle on the colours. Now theoretically, this is a great idea, if your child agrees to it. Which Maya doesn't. It all started off quite well with Maya decked out in green on one day, dark blue on another....but then on about day 4 Maya went on strike. No explanation. She just simply will not 'play ball' and she is soooo stubborn. (I have no idea where she gets it from). We're not going to force the child into clothes she doesn't want to wear, but it's funny seeing all the other kids in yellow or orange or light blue and Maya...well, Maya simply not subscribing.

Yesterday was orange day and, like every day now, she's having none of it. Arguably her hair colour would have sufficed anyway, but by the end of the morning, I'd convinced her to don an orange hair scarf. Sulkily, she relented, but by the time Andy had reached the school with her and she'd seen all the other little tangerine flavoured kids, she'd pulled it defiantly off. Will she be a contrary child, I wonder? Or is this more to do with the fact she's obsessed with pink?

Maya, Maya quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockle shells
and pretty pink crayons / felt-tips / t-shirts / pants / hair clips / ice-cream all in a row.

I am a ballerina (with crazy curls)

I think I've talked about Maya's love of dancing several times over the course of this blog. But I'd like to recount a little tale to you about last night's happenings. Maya often announces these days the words I am a ballerina! This is generally followed by a brilliant little twirl or pirouette, wild curls flying, with the panache that only a three year old can muster. After her disinterest in the Bollywood dance class, I've thought that for the time being, she is happier either dancing to her heart's content at home or going to watch others performing.

I read in the paper that a local cultural centre had an evening classical dance performance. Phoning up to check the directions from a friend, she said that children were not permitted in the auditorium, so Lily and Andy had to stay behind but I thought that Maya and I would give it a whirl anyway. We turned up and not only were there large, ominous signs on the door saying NO CHILDREN UNDER TEN ALLOWED but the man selling the tickets shook his head very firmly and said it was out of the question that Maya be permitted entrance to the show. Oh, pleeeease I begged. He shook his head once more and said that there was nothing he could do. I'd been preparing Maya the whole way there in the rickshaw about how wonderful it would be and felt pretty bad about it.

Maya got the wrong end of the stick and thought the problem was that there was only one ticket left so she said to the man Don't worry, we can share! Bless her. I sighed and explained to Maya that children under ten couldn't go in. But I'm a big girl! she protested. I thought I'd give it one more shot. Please, I begged the ticket seller. She loves dance so much. And she'll be very, very good and quiet. The man loooked at me, then he looked at Maya. And Maya shot him one of her best little oh, go on cheeky grins (much like the one in the picture above, which is why I've included it). At this stage, the man looked around him shiftily then said whispered conspiratorially, Ok, get in there quick! But sit at the back, and the second she makes a noise, out you come. We darted in before he could change his mind. And Maya did indeed love it. We only stayed for an hour of the two hour show. For forty five minutes of that she was transfixed by the stunning costumes and graceful movements of the dancers. In the final fifteen minutes she started getting tired and fidgety and I decided that enough was enough when she got folded up in her seat - you know those seats you get in cinemas that you have to push down - well, these ones were extra heavy, presumably because they never have little under-ten-year-old bottoms sitting on them, so I'd been holding it down for her but had got distracted by the performance and up she shot, legs now up by her ears. Maya found this hilarious but I didn't want to risk the wrath of the organisers or get the ticket-seller in trouble so we nipped out as quietly as we could.

So yes, a successful night out and now Maya has a few more moves in her dance repetoire.