#just thinking about all of the things Bharat did to make Stone into the man he is makes my heart hurt

[the-whispers-of-death]

TW: Mention of child abuse

Thinking about the fact that I wrote Bharat having physically scarred Stone during his childhood years and how two of Stone's facial scars are from Bharat. And we know of one (due to a post about Kali cradling Stone's scarred cheek) facial scar Bharat caused was the knife scar that goes from Stone's right ear to the corner of his lips.

And there's only two other facial scars that Stone has which is the knife scar that cuts through his left eyebrow and just barely stops before it reaches his left eye and on the same side of his face, there's a scar where a bullet grazed his left cheek. It hurts to know that either of those scars could've been caused by Bharat because I wouldn't put it past Bharat to have grazed his own son's cheek with a bullet shot near his face.

[chantalkrcmar]

Our New Normal

Now that we’ve been in Mumbai for 3 1/2 months, I feel like I can say we are settled into into our new normal. Of course, the adjustment process will likely continue in fits and starts much longer, but it feels like we have turned a significant corner. When I was in Kerala for work last month, I would tell people there, “I’m going home on Wednesday.” By that, I meant back to Mumbai. There was absolutely no hesitation when I was saying the word “home.” It felt good.

Our new home no longer shocks me much anymore — a big sign that I have shifted. For instance, I still notice, but am no longer surprised, by the countless motorcyclists I see doing crazy dangerous stuff. A popular one: Daredevil drivers speeding through terrible traffic, their helmets hanging on their handlebars, their mobile phone clamped between their ear and shoulder. And another common one: a family of four, dad driving, mom holding two month old, three year old sandwiched between mom and dad. Dad is wearing a helmet but no one else is. Also recklessly speeding. Do I like almost being run down by them? Nope. Am I surprised by them anymore? Nope.

I wish I could get photos — or, better yet, videos — of these insane motorcyclists but I am always too focused on my own safety (or Anamika’s safety if she is out walking with me) to stop and take pics.

And who is the least surprised by anything anymore? Anamika, of course. Anamika actually adjusted long back. She talks about our friends in the US and about Somerville (For example, this morning when we were talking about getting some Christmas decorations, she said, “We can buy a Santa for Somerville and for India.”) but it’s matter-of-fact now. She no longer seems confused by her dual-country existence; in fact, it’s been a while since she’s hesitated when trying to figure out where we now live. And she is always proudly telling people: “I go to the American School of Bombay — Kurla Kohinoor Campus!” Man, do I wish for her unformed vocal cords. Anamika’s pronunciation of Hindi is impeccable. Still, when I ask a rickshaw driver to take us to Kurla Kohinoor, I am met with blank stares until I have said it four different ways (all of which sound totally the same to me). :-) She on the other hand says it like a pro.

We are connecting with other folks in our apartment compound. Especially Anamika. Our compound has the friendliest group of security guards and cleaning staff. Anamika enthusiastically greets them: “Good morning Arvind Sir!” “Good night, Felix Uncle!” She often hangs out with them and regales them with stories all in English. They understand none of it but politely nod and smile. And they really look out for her. We have a tiny playground space in our compound. When she fell off the swing there, Wilson Uncle, one of the men who cleans the buildings, came running to fetch her — and to tell off Rahul, who might have pushed her a bit too vigorously, for being a negligent parent. :-)

There’s also a doodh wallah (milk man) who delivers milk to the apartments in our compound every morning. Since it such a novelty, Anamika used to love opening the door and ceremoniously accepting the packets of milk before ferrying them off to the fridge. Sadly, the novelty is gone so she barely ever runs to the door to get the milk from him anymore. Poor guy use to be greeted by an adorable 3 1/2 year old brimming with excitement, and now all he gets is a middle aged or elderly person accepting the goods at the door. But Anamika’s enthusiasm has not entirely worn off. This past week, we were walking down the stairs in our building and she saw the doodh wallah on the ground floor waiting for the lift. She shrieked, “It’s the doodh man!” which sounds really funny to an American (that would be me) who thinks she’s saying, “It’s the DUDE man.” A bit redundant, no?

Our compound is gated but the gates are never locked. (thank goodness! A gated community is not mine or Rahul’s style.) So there’s a group of kids from the neighboring slum, mostly boys, who often come and play in the playground. Anamika loves them! Her favorite is ten year old Sushil. A very handsome and charming boy, he’s got a winning smile, a mischievous gleam in his eye, and a love of attention. So he and I chat a bit in Hindi and he mostly clowns around for Anamika. The genuine belly laughs he gets out of her are impressive!

Since Anamika goes to the American School, she had Thanksgiving break. We did not celebrate, but we had a fun stay-cation. One of the many things we did that long weekend was do a long day trip to Elephanta Island with another family we know. Elephanta is an hour ferry ride from the Gateway of India in South Mumbai. On the island are caves with fourteen hundred year old carvings and monkeys galore. It’s a fun place to marvel at the stone work, play hide and seek, and strategize how best to avoid the aggressive monkeys. Cows are ubiquitous in India, and typically vey docile. But Rahul encountered one that followed him and head butted him, in hopes he would drop Anamika’s roasted corn. Rahul emerged victorious from the stand-off — but barely! Since we could not stop laughing at the whole thing — and our pal Jessie was so busy recording the encounter — our friends and I were of no help. (Sorry, my Love.)

India is not one of the cleanest countries in the world (to put it mildly). Prime Minister Modi even started a public cleanliness campaign called “Swachh Bharat” which includes raising  public awareness and doing some public works projects such as toilet building. In my observations over the past many years of coming to India regularly, it seems to be working. People used to blithely throw trash on the roads and footpaths, and men would regularly drop their trousers and pee anywhere they felt the urge. This kind of behavior is not as common anymore, though it still happens more than it should. I find most of Modi’s policy initiatives abhorrent (Rahul and I often play the “Who’s a Worse Leader? Modi or Trump?” game.), but I will give him credit for Swachh Bharat. It’s not as successful as the Modi government claims (especially the Open Defecation Free India part of the campaign), but it seems to be working in many other ways.

One of my proudest moments since moving to India occurred on the ferry ride to Elephanta -- when I had my chance to do my Swachh Bharat bit. A ferry passenger had the audacity to throw a plastic bag into the sea from the ferry, and I thought it my civic duty to make it clear that what he had done was beyond the pale. I resorted to public shaming. In an intentionally loud voice I told him he was a disgrace because he was not honoring the Prime Minister’s   “Swachh Bharat” campaign. An unfortunate number of Indians fawn all over Modi, so basically telling someone who likely reveres the Prime Minister that he is disrespecting the Prime Minister, I thought, was a small stroke of genius. :-)

And we are now starting to prepare for Christmas. Anamika is one lucky kid (and we are lucky adults) since we celebrate Indian holidays, as well as the ones that have gone more global, such as Christmas. We do the endless fall festivals here, culminating in Diwali, and now we are heading into Christmas. Our neighborhood is adorned with a variety of secular (It seems everyone loves Santa Claus!) and non-secular (many Roman Catholic churches in Bandra, so Christ is everywhere) decorations. We have a medium sized fake Christmas tree in our livingroom, decorated with a combination of homemade ornaments (compliments of Rahul and Anamika), as well as ones bought on Hill Road. We recently went to a birthday party at the Taj Lands End Hotel where they have a gigantic, beautiful christmas tree in their lobby. As we walked past it, Anamika declared without a hint of envy or irony, “Oh. It’s just a bit bigger than our tree.” Given that it’s probably twenty feet taller than our tree, I cracked up.

You be the judge...

Christmas shopping on Hill Road, a street in our neighborhood chock full of shops of all kinds (You want glitter and glue? Go to Hill Road. You want cheap sandals? Go to Hill Road. You want  pain puri? Go to Hill Road. You want Christmas decorations in the month of December? Go to Hill Road.), is a total hoot. Normally, shopkeepers and hawkers fill the sidewalks with their wares; people even set up blankets with their goods piled high on top of them in the streets. During this season, it’s even more chaotic. Ad-hoc Christmas shops (nothing more than card tables set up in nooks and crannies all over Hill Road) pop up with colorful stars, Santas, reindeer, snow globes, you name it. Rahul, Anamika and I hit Hill Road to round out our Christmas tree decoration collection. It was quite the experience as we sweated bullets (I never associate heat and humidity with Christmas!) keeping Anamika safe from all the traffic as it whizzed by, as well as keeping her from breaking every snow globe on Hill Road. :-)

Since, unlike most shops that are directly on the street, this one had a safe stretch of sidewalk in front of it, I actually was able to get one photo of Anamika doing some Christmas shopping on Hill Road...

And we are starting our favorites (a sure sign of feeling at home)…

favorite bookstore: Trilogy (Amazingly curated by amazing bibliophiles — and just plain nice people — it’s the antidote to box book stores…Trilogy is down a cramped, smelly alley, so it’s almost impossible to find. Once you push through the front doors, and into their intimate, beautiful space, the world melts away. They have a feminist book section, too! Need I say more?!)

favorite cafe: The Bagel Shop (yes, that’s the name. The bagels are not NYC bagels, but they are not bad. Their homemade juices are amazing. Living in a tropical zone with a huge variety of fresh fruits has its perks! And their outdoor patio with fans whirring all over is a winner.)

Rahul and Anamika playing the Dot Game at The Bagel Shop...

(Because we get questions about our water bottles, let me explain: Anamika’s water bottle is a pink Peppa Pig one; Rahul’s is a pink Hello Kitty one; mine is boring old blue.)

favorite road to walk on: Veronica Road (Being narrow and twisty, traffic is at a minimum. It’s also cool since it’s flanked by old colonial era buildings and random Catholic statues and mini shrines.)

favorite chai: a cup at 17/31 MHB Colony (That would be our home. I swear Ambubhai makes the best cup of chai in all of Mumbai. Perhaps in all of India. Come try it and see for yourself!)

favorite place to go running: Bandra Reclamation Pathway (A five minute run past the slums near our apartment takes us to a sweet pathway along one of the bays of the Arabian Sea. When it’s not too smoggy from pollution, we see downtown Mumbai across the water, and I really enjoy all the palm trees they’ve planted along the pathway.)

favorite place for a date: The Saltwater Cafe (Rahul and I still don’t get out much, but we do get out more than when we were in Somerville and Dadi and Dada (Grandma and Grandpa) were close to 8000 miles away.)

favorite weekend activity: When we’re not busy with Anamika’s packed social calendar (This weekend, she had three birthday parties and a christmas event to attend. I’m not at all jealous of the fact that she has so many friends here. ;-) ), you can often find us swimming at the pool at Sun n Sand Hotel right on Juhu Beach, right on the Arabian Sea. We pay for day passes and swim to our hearts’ content.

A random thing about living in Mumbai that I love: the flowers. They are simply gorgeous. Mumbai is truly an urban jungle — emphasis on “urban.” And it is easy to despair the lack of green space here. But when the riot of flowers confronts my senses, I am reminded that nature does exist, and that beauty is all around. (Sorry for the corny Hallmark card quality of that phrase.) 

I took this pic one morning as I was walking to my yoga class…

One other thing I love about our neighborhood are the murals that surprise you on various walls. Of course, I particularly like this one...

Not to end on a sad note, but life ain’t all a bowl of cherries. One thing Rahul and I are not getting used to — nor should we — is seeing so many desperately poor children on the streets. Desensitization, which can happen so easily, is a soul killer, so we are trying to avoid it. Even worse, it maintains the status quo. On Friday night, we were driving to a little school christmas concert. On the left of our uber, we were approached by a man selling christmas accessories (street hawkers, selling everything from tissues to plums and everything in between, are so common here), including reindeer antler headbands, one of which Anamika just had to have. So as I was making that purchase out of the window on my side of the uber, Rahul was giving money to two poor little girls who had approached on his side of the uber. How’s that for a moment of glaring inequality?!