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.