Happy Birthday, Ahan

The family promised it would be a "small" affair. So, only 250 people showed up to celebrate my son's first birthday. Ahan dug the attention, but was traumatized when we began eating his cake, a bus. These days he's obsessed with automobiles, and every vehicle is a "bus" in Ahan's world. The little guy was aghast that we were munching on his favorite toy.

Check out the birthday photos:
http://picasaweb.google.com/madhuryabora/AhanSBDay?authkey=Gv1sRgCNzHs6W4lpmluAE#

Indian or American

My brother bought Ahan a scooter the other day. The little guy pushed it around with gusto, until a wall came in the way. He first thought there was a glitch in the tires, and promptly dropped to his knees to check. Than he got up and looked around, when no help came, he raised his hand to his ear and shouted.."Hello Rina".(Rina is one of the maids at my mom's)
My brother laughed and said "What an American! he's calling 911." I disagreed though.My little man is becoming very Indian. India is cell phone paradise, and these gadgets rank right up there among basic necessities such as air, water and food. You may not have a roof over your head, but you will have a cell phone. The addiction seems worse than alcoholism. On the roads, cell phone drivers are worse than drunk ones. A neighbor recently fell off the roof while absentmindedly jabbering into his Nokia. No surprises that Ahan picked up a habit of talking into his imaginary cell because that's all he sees the grown ups do most of the day. These days he uses the remote to bark orders at the maids. So Indian...sigh!

Love bites

Love is in the air, and with it comes heartbreaks. Zorro has lost his sleep to Tommy, another lab that guards our Tezpur home. But, the infatuation was shortlived.Tommy barked at Ahan, sending a furious Zorro on a barking tirade. Since than, our loverboy looks lost and forlorn.
Ahan reciprocated the gesture by pulling Zorro's ears and biting him twice. Last night, my son woke up crawling and barking around the bed. I really hope it isn't the dog hair.

Little Dolphins

My parents invited troops of Bihu dancers to perform at our Tezpur home. Our favorite was the group that calls itself Dolphins. The little ones impressed us with their professionalism, talent and percussion. Prince Ahan watched them without blinking his eyes. He later played the drum. Here are some photos:

Fan of fans

Ahan would do anything for the ceiling fan. He flirts with it, laughs at it and stares at it as if it's the best thing to have ever happened to mankind. I agree it's one of the better inventions, especially during the multiple-hour long power outages when the inverters can't make A.C.s run. Last night when Ahan went to bed, there was no electricity. This morning he woke up, smiling at the running fan. I think he values it more than me. Still doesn't say maa, but doles out faa faa (fan) effortlessly.

Ahan's first Bihu

Spring is full on here. It's the first time since 1992 that I am home to usher in the Assamese New Year. We spent the first day of Bihu, April 15th, with Ahan's paternal grandpa and family, exchanging gifts and seeking the blessings of elders. In the afternoon, we traveled to my birthplace and ancestral home. The journey was a bit brutal, but Ahan was a trooper. I allowed him to travel more than half the way on my lap, instead of the car seat ( sorry, Saurav!). Ahan charmed my dad's eight siblings and their families. They gave him money, clothes and gold. It's a custom in many parts of India to welcome a new family member with such gifts. Sans the clothes, everything is going toward his college fund.

I caved

The general consensus is my son isn't getting much nutrition. Indian babies are fat, Ahan looks malnourished near them. Both sides of the family have been on me to make extra efforts to feed the child. Normally, I would take away the food when he turns his head. The last two days,I allowed my mom to have the entire orchestra, three maids, two dogs and a conductor {my reluctant sister-in-law,Jilmil) to coax him into taking 50 extra bites. Under Jilmil's supervision, the girls bark, clap and dance, while the dogs perform tricks to get Prince Ahan more interested in his food. Sadly, it has worked. He's still a control freak, and that's the saving grace. No one except his highness is allowed to put the food into his mouth. To impress his entourage of entertainers, he's also learned to eat pureed foods with a spoon. What a showoff!!

Zorro our hero

Ahan's surrogate mom/dad is a beautiful golden lab named Zorro. We are at my mom's these days waiting for his cold and jetlag to vamoose before moving to the in-laws. I digress, but full-body massages here are $2 (including tip). Yea, I am getting one done everyday, while Ahan hangs out with his new friends. My parents have five labs. He's closest to two: Tintin, the youngest is a ball of energy and Zorro, the mature, protective one, who's ready to attack anyone who comes near the baby. They have developed their own means of communication. Add another one to my son's growing list of languages: assamese, english, asl, bihari and now labarking. Ahan and Zorro bark back and forth softly. Ahan is rough with Zorro, sticking his fist into the two-year old's mouth, trying to pull out his nose and raking his nails into Zorro's belly. I think Zorro tolerates it all in anticipation of the Rs. 550 Monterey Jack cheese that we ferried in an ice case all the way from Delhi, which Ahan generously doles out to his friend at lunch time. Bedtimes are rough for both. Ahan protests vigorously, and Zorro joins in banging the bedroom door and barking up a storm. They work in tandem. When Ahan was really sick two nights ago, Zorro wouldn't budge from his side. This morning, he barked and alerted me to Ahan's rising temperature.
I am hoping to post videos of the two and their lovefest soon.

hello gauhati!

Ahan has a fever and cold since we arrived here, and that kept me away from the blog. Our flight to Gauhati was one of the best routes I have ever flown. So, I won't moan about the $100 excess baggage fee I paid. Ahan was in a cheery mood. He saw some foreign tourists before we boarded the flight and began to flirt and chat them up with the excitement of a 10-month old. I think he's missing his American friends.
The crew on board waited on us hand and foot, so that gives me hope that not all are like Continental.I got a nursing pillow and an escort to carry my cabin bags off the plane.
At least two dozen family waited to greet us at the airport. I was paranoid about Ahan getting crowd anxiety, but he decided it was the best time to play the 5-second on each lap game.
Th family loves him because he wants to be held by everyone?! My mom has three maids assigned to entertain him at mealtimes and playtime. They get chocolates everytime he finishes his food. I foresee very difficult times ahead for Saurav and me when we handle these tasks by ourselves in two months. Have I mentioned this before? I sometimes miss my baby.

Adopt us Dems and Republicans.

There were two blasts in Assam yesterday. One in Gauhati where we will be staying, the other outside our house in small town Dhekiajuli.This is probably the equivalent of a dress rehearsal of the election violence that might follow in the days to come. Maybe we need to encourage more negative ad campaigns and steer violence on air rather than on the streets? Has anyone ever told them about push polling???

Jetlagged still

It’s day seven, and Ahan and I are still clinging on to Philly time. We sleep all day and party all night, much to my mom’s angst. We shared our bed with maa initially, but her need for sleep overpowered her desire to hang out with us through the night after her grandson bit her for not waking up to play at 2:30 a.m. Ahan has one large meal at midnight and he poops at 1:30 a.m. , but the little fellow isn’t complaining much. He has a parade of people entertaining him whenever he’s up and about.
I have been pretty much useless. Maa’s taking care of everything from laundry to gathering and repacking our stuff for our trip to Gauhati tomorrow. Hopefully, we will settle down to a normal routine soon.

Not Really Indian

One of the joys of being home is the drama that surrounds my mom’s entourage of domestic help. The other day, a neighbor rudely woke me up to complain about our driver Dharmender bhaiyya, who shares his name with a famous Bollywood hero. D bhaiyya had illegally erected a reserved sign for a parking spot for our car in the resident’s lot. The fellow seems pretty proud about the achievement and bullied anyone who dared occupy that space. My mom hates confrontations and happily delegated the problem to her sleep deprived, clueless daughter. I chastised our driver, apologized to the neighbor and went back to catch up on my sleep. When I woke up, a very unhappy bhaiyya complained about my interference. “You should have just said you don’t live here,” he said. “To survive in India, you have to earn respect and have people be scared of you.”

I told him what he did wasn’t right, and bullying doesn’t earn respect. I was relishing my preaching, but he bust my bubble and said. “Aap toh Amrikan ban gaye hain.” (you have become an American). I didn't know if that was a compliment or rebuke.

I wish he had met my co-passenger on Continental--the aunty with the “loose” American daughter, who certified me as the model Indian woman for hugging my baby to my chest and nursing him despite being without food or sleep through the 14.5-hour journey here.

Home is where the good stuff is

It's been a tradition since I left home. My second day home is when maa sends me to what she calls the "cleaners".
She did the same this time. Except they came to me. Two girls were called in for the pampering show. I spent the whole day getting head and body massages, facial, pedicure, waxing, threading and all the good stuff. The bill? $11 including tip. How cool is that?
I saw Ahan only when he wanted to nurse. He loves the driver who calls him Baba and speaks to him in Hindi. I think he understands Hindi more than English, Assamese or ASL. Ahan hardly ate anything yesterday. Maa thought he needed a good Indian meal. He thought otherwise. In the evening we scurried a market frequented by foreigners, and bought some avocados and cheese. I finally saw him smile at dinner time when he saw his favorite food.

Reaquainting with Aita

Ahan woke up just as I released myself into maa's arms. He cried a little, so I allowed him to travel on my lap in the car ride home. He was amused with all the honking along the way and couldn't stop chatting up the stray cows and dogs that were retiring along the road for the night. A mutt in the neighborhood got my maa her golden chance to re-bond with her grandson. Ahan took to her and our driver, Dharmender bhaiyya, giving me a chance to shower and eat my food in peace. We did the bedtime rituals and he fell asleep again without any problem. I was exhausted, but it was morning back home in Philadelphia. My body refused to get back on Indian time.

Finally home

We landed on time. Ahan slept through the whole deboarding process, while the passenger with the 10-month old baby helped me strap him in the Ergo and with my luggage. I decided best not to ask the flight crew for help after I saw them recruit another passenger to help the aunty with the bad knee with her bags.
The best thing about India is service. We breezed through immigration, where I caught a baffled officer asking his colleague about Guatemala's location, while stamping an entry on a co passenger's passport. Once at the luggage belt, nicely dressed men offered to help for a few dollars when they are actually required by law to do it for free. My stingy Indian side kicked in, I bargained them down to 100 rupees and they escorted me to my mother's arms and into the grime, sweat and crowded streets of Delhi.

Counting minutes to see maa

Ahan slept through most of the flight. The only times he woke up was when I had to use the loo and of course had to carry him in with me. There were tired protests, and it broke my heart. He was exhausted, and wanted to sleep. I wasn't doing good either without food, free arms and sleep. About two hours before touchdown at Delhi, they began serving breakfast. Ahan decided that's best time for a trip to the bathroom. His constipation gave way and we had a pretty interesting time in the crammed loo, trying to maneuver a diaper worth three-days poop, an excited Ahan and his precious clothes. I missed breakfast. They don't believe in leaving food at your seat if you are not there. The aunty came to my rescue and bugged the hell out of the attendants to get me food. As a trade off, I listened to her complain about her "loose" American daughter, who despite having a lavish Indian arranged marriage with a good Indian doctor, slept around and hooked up with a white man. It helped me not miss the Bollywood movie I could have watched had Ahan not been on the flight with me.

The fairer sex not so fair

My co-passenger, a woman, was a friend of one of the flight crews. That got her free booze, a gift pouch and visits from flight attendants who wanted to make sure her journey was comfortable. One of them expressed their horrors that a co-worker had the nerve to reseat a traumatize baby next to her. I don't know why, but I apologized. But I also made up my mind about wanting the
bassinet seat back. With a sleeping baby in arm, I tried grabbing the attendants' attention. After being ignored three times, and told twice that I would have to do it on my own, I pled my case to the two male passengers. They had given my seat away to an elderly aunty, who needed her legs propped because of a knee surgery. The men obliged. One of them had a left a 10-month baby in Virginia and said he felt my pain. He helped carry my stuff from the old seat and got me set up. Despite repeated requests I didn't get dinner. The bassinet came hours later. But befor I could fit Ahan in or ask for instructions on how to use it, they left. Of course Ahan didn't fit into it, and spend the rest of the journey sleeping on mamma's lap. Note to self, never travel Continental with a baby unless you've befriended one of the crew members.
P.S. a flight atendant looked at me af if I were a dunce for giving up my seat for nursing. "Why didn't you go to the bathroom to nurse?" she asked. "People do it there all the time."
Reallly? During take off?

On board mis-adventures

Getting into the plane was just the first hurdle. Ahan cried some more as we elbowed our way to our seat. I tried rocking him while stowing away my cabin and diaper bags. Maybe nursing would have helped, but they seated two men next to me, and that didn't go down well with a baby who's on a "I don't like strange men" phase.
I requested a stewardess to reseat me for takeoff near an empty seat, preferable next to a woman. She said that would mean surrendering my bassinet. Wanting to handle one crisis at a time, I agreed to that and relocated a couple rows behind. The nursing helped, and once we took off Ahan lulled into sleep. But dinner came with bright lights and a chatty crew, waking him up again. I had to abandon my food and nurse and rock him again until the lights went out.

First taste of home

Boarding the Continental flight was a refresher course on how things work in India. At the gate passengers huddled, pushed and jumped line to be the first ones to board. Continental doesn't discriminate and didn't want mothers with babies to board first. That's a privilege only for "elite" status passengers. Ahan cried hysterically as we tried to somehow make it to the gate. My American son never had so many strangers invade his personal space. At one point, Iku took him and tried to calm him singing "wheels on the bus". I finally somehow got through the gate without crying hysterically, losing my baby or my belongings.

Leaving home

Before we left for the airport, we spent the morning saying goodbye to friends, stocking up the refrigerator for Iku and weighing, unpacking and repacking our luggage. The ride to Newark went smooth, and once at the airport, Ahan sported his Gemini charms chatting up co passengers while we hung out in the queue waiting for our turn to check in. His magic worked on everyone except the Continental employee who declined a guest pass so Iku could escort us to the gate. She did give me a seat with more legroom, ok'd a bassinet and granted some extra pounds on the luggage.
Help came from unexpected quarters. A TSA employee tipped us that he qualified, and thankfully another trip to the Continental counter got us the psuedo boarding pass and through security. After that it was all a blur. We fed an overstimulated, restless baby sans any contraption, changed his diaper while he declared mutiny and rushed to board the plane.

Packing for home

Ten years ago when I came to the U.S. maa packed me a pot, a pan, a pressure cooker and spices for my adopted home. My roommate Esther, marvelled and chuckled at the stuff that came out of the two elephant- size suitcases.
Today, as I take Ahan for his first visit home I am carrying a pot, spices and a food processor along with clothes, teething biscuits, puffs, Tylenol and diaper rash creams in two elephant-sized suitcases. I am excited and anxious about my son meeting his extended family, also a tad sad about leaving Iku here. While there, we will attend a cousin's wedding, another's engagement, but we will miss all of Ahan's friends first birthdays here. My American mom Joyce suggested I pay the extra fee and return earlier if I get too homesick.
Our flight leaves in less than 12 hours. I hope I crammed enough toys, books and energy to entertain Ahan for the 14.5 hour trek to the other hemisphere. I hope to frequently document our adventure for friends and our adopted families here. Keep us in your thoughts, we will miss you all.