"Swing like monkey"

Raksha Bandan

It is time for me to start posting in the present.  So here are some pictures of our morning;

Ella made us french toast and Grace is giving her review.

Isabel's favorite question, "had a bite?" is hard to resist.

And a self portrait as I sit in front of the computer at the breakfast table.

Today is "Raksha Bandan" or "Brother Sister Day".  Preety and Prianka came calling for Cael with a "raki" (friendship bracelet) for each wrist and a sweet treat.  Girls bestowing gifts will send any boy into hiding, until the gifts include sugar.

let the children laugh and play

Every home in the valley is filled with families.  ‘Stuffed’ I should say.  Several generations, a couple couples, and many, many children.  There are no quiet houses with elderly retired couples counting out their last days pruning roses and playing bridge.  There are no creepy single guys to follow with a wary eye through parted curtains.  No childless couples, no lonely divorcees, and certainly no bachelor pads. 

Despite the differences in our language, our skin color, religion, economic status, or any other of the vast divides that seem impossible to bridge, every new person we meet, from the taxi driver, to the farmer, to the mule skinner, they all have children in their lives.  The difference is extraordinary.  Imagine being able to take for granted that every person you run across is at ease with kids.  You no longer feel the need to apologize for them when the act up at the grocery store.  Your waiter doesn’t cringe at the sight of you.  People are kind, helpful, and generally thrilled to see them.

throwing voices

In the house above the hill from us there lives a little girl whose distress call bears an uncanny resemblance to Isabel’s.  “Mommy” is the same in English or Hindi, so I often find myself jumping to my feet and wondering how Isabel got so far away so quickly when I was sure she was tucked safely in bed.  The house down the hill from us has a little boy who laughs just like Cael.  This is less startling but still rather perplexing when my ears are tuned to just these frequencies. 

 

Lychee Bob

Dad, spitting out machine gun fire obscenities, chases a crow who has carried off a baby parrot. Grace observes, "he's so tenderhearted and angry!"  

Dad takes the baby parrot under his wing (so to speak), feeding him lychee and banana.  For lack of a better name we call him Lychee Bob.  Dad carries Bob around on his shoulder and saves him from numerous subsequent attacks involving dogs, small children, more birds, and even the wind.  I think Lychee Bob is one cracker short of a Polly, but Dad is smitten.  After a few days Bob makes his final escape.  May all his feathers be with him.

our home

the swimming hole

The heat takes me down.  Far.  The kids are miserable, needy, clingy, and I am a complete wreck.  The only thing that keeps me alive in the afternoon is promise of our swimming hole. And oh, what a beautiful spot!  For a few weeks, Dad and Ella added rocks every day, slowing the flow of the river enough to make a lovely, lazy lagoon of cool, clear water.  There is plenty of shade in the afternoon and I am in heaven.  The kids throw rocks, Osso chases rocks, Ella catches frogs, Dad lays out on a large flat warm rock, and I soak my over-heated body and finally regain my sense of self. 

 

new words

We boil the milk that Badl brings every morning (pronounced “bottle”), because, as Grace puts it, “it’s a little too close to the cow.”  Milk is called “dude”, so I call Badl the Dude dude. 

When a neighbor stops by asking for “barf”, I point the direction to the nearest bush.  After an exchange of confused looks and repeated hand gestures, we discover that “barf” is ice.  Ahhhah!

escape cabin fever

The seven of us pile into Dad’s car.  Car seats are sorely missed.  McLeod Ganj is crowded; people, animals, cars, motorcycles, busses, tourists…  all rubbing elbows on narrow crooked streets.  Often we have less than an inch on either side of our oversized car as we try to pass through.  The kids and I melt down quickly.

a storm, a death, lightning

Cowboy is found. Dad buries him with tears and flowers.  Ella is devastated.  Nothing can replace the loss of a pet.