Afterword

A beautiful Indian sky on our final evening

Daddy and Maya at Bangalore airport, leaving India

We are back!

Maya watched enough tv on the plane to last a lifetime (her eyes had gone an unhealthy pink colour by the end) and Lily did lots and lots and lots of pacing the aisles with one or the other blurry eyed parent in tow. I had a whole cup of orange juice chucked over me, but thankfully this was towards the end, so I only had to sit in a damp, sweet-smelling soggy puddle for the final hour, which I thought was pretty good going.

The first thing I noticed when we walked out onto English soil, far more than the cold, was just how dark is was already getting by 3.30 in the afternoon. And the first thing that Maya noticed as we hurtled round the M25 was that there were no yellow rickshaws on the road. Just as well, as they would have been flattened in an instant.

We're now safely at my parents-in-law, and here we shall be until we find somewhere to rent. Where we'll end up is still a mystery as we just can't work out what we can afford at the moment, and it's a difficult thing to admit that it's not much!!

Maya is in heaven - she's with her beloved grandparents, is living in her Peppa Pig spotty wellies and has a whole host of new (invariably pink) clothes to wear, passed down from cousin Daisy. And of course there are all the sparkly Christmas decorations, trees and Father Christmas's wherever you look so yes, it's a good time to come back.

I've had a good long think about whether or not to continue this blog now that we're back home, and I've decided I'm not going to. Now, it's not that there aren't plenty of adventures to be had back here in England. But the reason I started Maya's blog was to record her months in India. I've adored writing this blog for her and a part of me feels really sad to stop, but I feel that the original purpose of the blog has been achieved and it's drawn to it's natural conclusion.

HOWEVER....because the field that Maya's daddy is in is water and sanitation for the poor, it is 99% likely that after 2-3 years back in the UK we'll be heading abroad again for pastures new. Maybe Maya's writing will be good enough by then to do a blog on me (tee hee) or perhaps by then I'll blog about her little sister Lily's adventures in a developing country.

The other thing I've acknowledged is that I don't want to just put a full stop at this end of this post and say hey, that's it. So that's why I'll still be posting sporadically to let you know how Maya's getting on (and Lily of course), how Maya's mama copes without her chai and curries and where the devil we end up living on this funny little island. I have no idea how frequent these posts will be. I'd say infrequent, so if you'd like me to drop you a line to tell you when a new post is up, please just send me an email to rnarracott(put the '@' sign in here)gmail.com

As I said last time, THANK YOU for reading this. It's a funny old thing, is blogging. I've always thought that I'm lucky if I get a handful of readers, so when I occasionally check the stats and see that I'm getting 30-40 hits a day, I'm flabbergasted. Now, I know that for blogging terms, this number of daily hits is nada, zilch, rien but for me...well, it's great and has far surpassed my expectations. On another note entirely, I was commended in a blog post competition for my post, Muddling through in the monsoon, which I was dead chuffed about. I follow the blog of the lady who won, Fran Hill. Well done Fran if you're reading this! Click here to see her winning entry, and you can also scroll down a bit to see mine.)

Ok, I'll stop jabbering now. It is impossible and completely inappropriate that Maya's mama should have the final word on Maya's blog. So here are a few questions for the little lady herself, utterly unabridged.


Mama: Hello, Maya. How are you?

Maya: Fine

Mama: How old are you?

Maya: Free

Mama: What did you do today?

Maya: Play with Lily

Mama: Are you happy to be back in England?

Maya: (Big definite nod)

Mama: What things do you like in England?

Maya: Balloon. Car. Bunk bed. The puzzles.

Mama: What do you miss in Bangalore?

Maya: My skipping rope. That dress, not the other one Banglore, that one, that stripey one with the pockets.

(At this stage of the interview, Maya goes AWOL and when I say I have a few more questions, she exclaims 'Lily do it!' Hmm.....Eventually she is coaxed back.)

Mama: Do you miss any people in Bangalore?

Maya: Aanya. Only that.

Mama: Do you like travelling or being at home?

Maya: Being....travelling.

Mama: What would you like to tell people on your blog?

Maya: (Dances a little jig) Just don't want to say anything to people.

Mama: What would you like for Christmas?

Maya: I don't know, you choose. We will see. Will we see?

(Obviously depends what mood you catch her in - last week she put in a request for a bike, a plane and a puzzle)

Mama: Maya, thanks for letting us be part of your life in India through your blog.

Maya: No (very adamant face), I haven't got a life.

(Mama laughs)

Maya: Well, maybe I got a little bit life.

Yup, I'd say you've got a little bit life, darling Maya. In fact, you've got a whole lot more than a little bit life and you've got so much to look forward to.

And I can't wait to share it with you.

You've coped so very well with being dragged to the other side of the world. And then back again. You are my little curly haired starlet and I'm proud of you.

Your Mama

xoxoxo

Blighty calling

It's been a manic couple of days, packing up, seeing people, trying to fend off the encroaching ants that Deepa did so well to keep at bay...

We've moved out of our apartment and are staying with some french friends (airport hotel tomorrow night as we leave at stupid-o'clock the following morning) so I don't have my laptop, hence no photo which makes the page feel a little bare!

This will be my final post from India but no doubt I'll post something when we're safe and sound back in England. So here goes, off the top of my head, a few things that Maya and her Mama are looking forward to back in Blighty....

Maya is looking forward to:

the toys and bunk beds at Nannie and Grandpa's house, wellie boots, tights, sausages and baked beans, seeing her aunties, uncles, grandparents, cousins, splashing in puddles, jumpers and coats and Christmas time...

(Andy has just peered over my shoulder and chuckled, making the point that Maya lives very much in the present and therefore isn't 'looking forward' per se to these things. I know what he means, but I'd say that if you bring the subject up about going back to England, her excitement is palpable.)

And Maya's Mama is looking forward to:

peas, toast, seasons, cold bright days, composting, apples, proper cheese (not paneer), a comfy bed, having a soak in the tub, blackberries, recycling, long walks, pears, log fires, cooking with an oven, making granola for breakfast, catching up with family and friends, libraries filled with hundreds of luscious books, pizza express (!), farmers markets, pubs (yeah right, when do I get the chance to go to pubs these days, but in principle I'm looking forward to a cosy pub with a roaring fire!), sunflowers seeds and oak trees.

So there you go.

Both the girls are fast, fast asleep. It's been a long day for them and we also went to visit Deepa which was difficult for us all. But so necessary.

Tomorrow we need to run a few errands and then, if we get everything done and all goes according to plan, we'll go and have a swim and lunch at the hotel we normally go to. And when we get a taxi to the airport hotel, I'll wind down the window and breathe in the scents of Bangalore, good and bad.

Thank you India for being our hosts for the past few months. It's been amazing. And thank you to all of you for reading this and being part of Maya and her Mama's adventures.

Night night x

What will we miss?

Thanks to many of you for your kind emails about Deepa's son, Akilesh. We're going to see Deepa and her family on saturday and I'll relay to her how much she is supported from afar.

The days are whizzing past...just a few more to go...and we're bracing ourselves for the chill of an English winter. Here are a few things that Maya and her Mama are going to miss about India...

Maya is going to miss swimming outside in the warm. She was pretty scared of the water when we first came here but is now a little mermaid. She'll also miss the stready flow of ice cream. After all, every day is like summer here! And not just the icecream, she's going to get a shock back in England when she finds that not all teachers freely hand out chocolates and sweeties!


Maya will miss her school and her teachers and all of her friends, especially Aanya. It's amazing to think how far she's come since those early days when she really, really didn't want to go. Now, she adores it.


She'll miss Monkey Maze, the great soft play area where we've gone about once a week since being here.




And what about Maya's Mama? What will she miss? Ah, there are trillions of things... At the end of my big trip to India in 2000, I had to travel all the way from Ladakh (in the far flung north) to Chennai (in the south) to catch my flight home. I think it took about a week of solid travelling so I had ALOT of time. And I made four lists: What I'll miss about India, what I won't miss about India, what I'm looking forward to in England and what I'm not looking forward to in England. I seem to remember the lists being very long, but after all I had serious amounts of time on my hand.

I'm sticking to the positive this time around, and am also giving you just a selection. So, first of all, I'll miss the colours that you find everywhere, sometimes in the most unexpected places. Like the license plate on the back of the truck above.

I'll miss the music.

I'll miss the fragrance of frangipani and jasmine. I wish I could bottle it up and take it home.

I'll miss Deepa.

I'll miss opening my messy wardrobe in the morning, seeing the wonderful Indian fabrics and colours to choose from (well, I know I'll have that again in England, I just need to wait till next summer...and hope it's a good one!)

I'll miss the palm trees which always remind me I'm in a tropical country. Speaking of which, I'll seriously miss the climate too - there are many things about Bangalore I don't like but the climate is amazing. Never too hot and never too cold.

I'll miss the food. If you gave me south Indian food 3 times a day for months on end, I wouldn't get sick of it.

I'll miss the tropical fruits that haven't been flown half way round the world.

I'll miss the tailors, the cobblers, the men who go round on their bicycles calling for 'paper' and the chai wallahs. You know what, I even think I might miss the rickshaw drivers.

But before you think it's all doom and gloom, next post I'll write about what Maya and her Mama are looking forward to back in Blighty!

Akilesh

This is a very difficult post to write, and one that I wish with all my heart I didn't have to.

It wouldn't be right, or possible even, not to write about this since Deepa has been such an integral part of our experience in India.

Yesterday Deepa's five year old son Akilesh died.

If you've been following Maya's blog for a while, you'll know that Deepa is the lady who comes in every morning to do some cleaning and cooking and looking after Lily while I write. She is twenty-eight years old and a wonderful, gentle, calm spirit who works incredibly hard and is completely and utterly devoted to her husband and two little boys.

Akilesh went to school on friday, right as rain, but over the weekend developed a fever, was vomitting and had diarrhoea, so they took him to hospital and he was put on a drip. Deepa and her husband, Gopi, were about to take him home in the morning as he seemed much better but he had a sudden, violent epileptic fit (the first ever) and passed away. Sorry if this is unpleasant to read but, as I said, I really feel that I need to write this.

Akilesh was a gorgeous, bright-eyed, happy little boy. Over the months in India, Deepa has become a real friend to me and the truth is, I've never had a friend who's lost a child before. At least, not a friend of a similar age. We feel devestated, but of course our feeling of loss can be nothing in comparison to that of Deepa and Gopi's.

I just hope that in the next week before we leave I can be a friend to Deepa in some way as she has been to me.

Reflection

It is chilly winter time in Bangalore: people are wrapped up in shawls, thick jumpers and woolly hats and Maya, Andy and I all have full blown colds. Oh, I should also mention that it's 28 degrees. Am I being serious? Yes. Are we going to get the shock of our lives when we arrive back in the UK next week? Probably. But at least we already have colds!

To change the subject entirely, I wanted to take you on a little journey down a road near to where we live. The way that our area, Indiranagar, is laid out is long main roads, known as 'mains' interestected by 'crosses' and cut across in the middle by a huge busy road called One Hundred Foot Rd. Several weeks ago, a rickshaw driver took me a way I'd never been before to get to my destination, down the bottom end of sixth main. It was interesting because I know sixth main on the other side of One Hundred Foot Rd, but the bottom end of Sixth main couldn't have been more of a world apart from this, and I decided there and then that before we left India, we'd all walk the length of sixth main to get a better feel for it.

So off we went on saturday morning, Lily and Maya on our backs, attracting all the normal stares and wide smiles. Here are a few of the things we walked past down the first half of the road (the part I was unfamilar with):

small shop fronts with hanging bananas,
scruffy dogs wheezing in the shade,
women carrying huge tubs of water back to their homes,
chickens pecking in the dirt,
paper mills and flour mills,
clothes strung up in front of ramshackle houses,
people doing puja at small shrines and temples......


and then we crossed over 100 Ft Road on to the other side of 6th main, the familiar side, and this is what we passed:

a French boulangerie,
an Italian gelataria,
an IT solutions office,
expensive looking bejewelled saree shops
and even a pottery cafe.

And I thought to myself, well this is Bangalore, isn't it. This single steet is a microcosm of this city. I know that it's common for developing world cities to have one foot entrenched firmly in poverty and another in new money, wealth and enterprise and a dual economy with a Hugo Boss outlet next to a man selling mangoes off a cart. But Bangalore seems to particularly represent such a dichotomy: this is, after all, glam IT city which Barack Obama is allegedly (according to the tabloids here) 'scared' of because of all the IT whizzes overtaking the techincal expertise of his own citizens. Yet, like any large developing world city, it's growing at a rate faster than it knows how to handle. Bangalore is bursting at the seams and it's sometimes not a pretty sight, though this is something that Andy has come more into contact with than me through his work.

Ok, hands up, this hasn't been about Maya at all this posting. But here we are, here's my Maya bit: if you look at picture 2, you may be thinking, my God, how much longer can this child really be carried for in a saree? This is a good question, and the answer is, she can't. Maya is three and a half and she's getting a bit heavy, even for superman Daddy and so this journey down 6th main was Maya's very last expedition in a sling. But what a great last expedition.

ps - As an aside, we ended our walk on saturday morning at the park we often go to at the top end of sixth main. It wasn't till after I'd taken the photo (picture 4) of Andy and Maya that I realised what was sticking out of the yellow rickshaw. Since I'd just written a blog on rickshaw drivers, it made me chuckle (double click to enlarge it) - I wonder if it was my boozy, drunken friend having a quick forty winks before ensnaring his next victim....

The ups and downs of an auto-rickshaw journey

Maya and I have a love-hate relationship with rickshaws, though our reasons for this are very different. Let me explain:

I think we're quite unusual for ex-pats out here as we don't have a driver (not-for-profit company salaries don't stretch that far!) so when we climb into an auto-rickshaw, which we do at least a few times daily, the first thing that Maya is concerned with is the decor: Is is upholestered prettily? Are there pictures on the side? Can you see out the back? And bonus points, most definitely, are awarded for any sparkly or pink bits anyhwere or a Ganesh deity on the dashboard festooned with jasmine. If all this comes together, Maya more often that not will obligingly provide any information required when the driver stops at the traffic lights, peers over his shoulder and starts a conversation with the inevitable first line Your good name?

Maya's Mama on the other hand, as lovely as all this is, is far more concerned about not being ripped off. There's a funny thing about rickshaw drivers, that either they are the most wonderful, charming, polite men (and they're always men) imaginable who you'd love to pass the time of day with having a chat and a cup of chai, OR they are - and sorry to be so blunt - the most bloody rude, difficult, agressive con-artists in India. I dread to think how many pints of sweat I've lost in arguments with them. Where, I ask, are all the moderate in-between rickshaw drivers? They just don't exist, that's all.

Now, as you can imagine, sometimes Maya and her Mama's criteria don't conincide. She's all ready to scramble into a particularly lovely looking one when the driver, not even looking me in the eye, growls a fee about four times what we both know it ought to be. I gasp and start tutting and pull Maya back who's most put-0ut at this missed opportunity of travelling in this beautiful automobile with pink sequined peacocks adorning the side and thinks I am very, very mean.

Having said that however, Maya has over time definitely become wiser to the wily, unscrupulous ways of many of these men and if I'm being forgetful, often taps on the meter to get it turned on. If I'm all hot under the collar too, she's also been known to say to me 'Don't worry Mummy, he's a silly man.' Yes, and speaking of silly men, I've decided to come clean and tell you what happened in our early days here in Bangalore which resulted in the very sensible decision to only take rickshaws for short scoots around our area, nothing longer (Is our imminent departure making me more honest?? Perhaps more of these tales will surface in the coming days....) I'm going to give you the abridged version as I could go on and on but know you're all busy people.

We got in a rickshaw from an outerlying suburb. About ten minutes into the journey, he started swerving wildly, knocked a motorcylist off his bike (who thankfully was ok but very angry) who then came and yelled at the driver and, upon seeing us in the back, yelled at me even more, telling me I was a 'bloody idiot expat' for not getting a driver and going with these drunken fools. Drunk? Did he say drunk? At that stage, I'd like to have got out but we were on a busy dual carriageway. The motorcyclist drove off in a huff and then the rickshaw driver realised he'd brought us the wrong way so decided to turn round into the INCOMING traffic and drive the wrong way down the dual carriageway. At this point, I'd lost all decorum and was screaming at him to turn back. But he didn't. I remember Maya patting my arm reassuringly, telling me everything was ok and yes, we did finally get home in one piece. It's quite funny thinking about it now but at the time it was FAR from funny, it was darn terrifying!

So, the moral of the story is, appreciate the good rickshaw drivers when you get them....and check for alcohol on the breath and glazed eyes before getting into one.

Tinker, Tailor & Chai Wallah

One of the many things I'll miss about India are the ubiqutous tailors, cobblers, chai wallahs, fruit and vegetable sellers and jack of all trades. You name it, they have it here. Even ear cleaners. (Admittedly I haven't spotted any in Bangalore but last trip, whilst in Delhi, a smooth talking, suited man in a park convinced me we musn't neglect our ear cleaning duties. And he did a very good job too.)

It's the tailors I'll especially miss though. They are absolutely everywhere and although they generally have the reputation of being unscrupulous, as far as I'm concerned they are amazing. For a small sum, you can have clothes made, altered, copied, whatever you want.

Next week at the creche I volunteer at, we're doing a craft activity making Christmas tree balls covered in different fabrics. The tailor in the second picture always has a huge jute sack of discarded material outside the workshop which I often take little tid-bits of. But the other day, I asked for the whole sack - he thought I was most odd, dragging the sack off down the road, two little girls in tow but anyway, yesterday Maya and I went through it all to divide it into a creche pile and a pile for me for making Christmas tags, wrapping paper etc. Maya immediately made a little nest for herself (picture one) and chose her favourite scraps for me.

I thought I'd also include a picture of another tailor I've used a fair bit here (picture 3) and his workshop. His name is Malek Malek and he has dark, brooding eyes rimmed with kohl and wears skinny jeans. On the other side of the wall of his workshop are framed prayers from the Quran and as you approach the workshop, something about the whir and clickety-clack of the sewing machine are strangely comforting.

Kisses for chappatis

Maya knows something's up. Obviously we've told her we're Blighty-bound but haven't gone into masses and masses of details. But a couple of days ago she demanded that her Little Prince suitcase be brought down from the top of the cupboard and she's been packing and re-packing since then: 3 books, a bouncy ball, a t-shirt and 2 pairs of pants. All the essentials.

Having said that, Maya continues to well and truly live for the moment, in that wonderful way that only children are capable of. She is full of talk of her friends at school, the songs they are learning and ongoing demands for chai and cake. I had a chuckle yesterday when I picked her up yesterday as her teacher Paula told me that she was eyeing one of the little boy's, Eeshan's, snack boxes at break time which was filled with chappati and jam. Eeshan told her that she could try some if she gave him a kiss. She didn't even think about it....ah, the pull of chapatti and jam!

Time for a Lily post

Here are a few things you might like to know about Maya's little sister:

* Lily has now reached the age of eighteen months. And she's never even been to A & E. (Maya had been three times by this age, though probably more out of parental panicking than necessity!)

* She has now spent half of her life in India.

* She eats spicey food like a trooper, a proper little Indian girl. In fact, she eats any food like a trooper, and people who says she's petite haven't seen the size of her belly.

* She is a dab hand at hailing a rickshaw. When we stand at the roadside, drivers are far more likely to stop if Lily sticks a finger out rather than me. After all, she's far cuter.

* She has humungous feet. Seriously, they are something to behold. Shoes that Maya wore age 2 are already way to small for her. Either she's going to be very tall or.....she'll just have humungous feet.

* Since her very short haircut (pictures 2 and 3), her nickname is now Bob. Had to be done, as she often couldn't see through that fringe of hers and steadfastly refuses hairclips.

* She loves her big sister with loyal fervour, follows her around and puts up with all Maya's bossing around until enough is enough, then gives her a good whack and toddles off.

Delicate matters

This afternoon we went out for a lunch at a lovely South Indian restaurant and Maya and I came a-cropper in the ladies room. Now, I don't want to go into great details of intimacies of the ladies room, but here it is in brief:

We are used to loo roll. And loo roll is more often than not, not used here. Indian readers amongst you, I'm not saying there is anything wrong with the system used here....on the contrary, there's alot less paper wastage. However, what I will say, is that after almost eight months of being in India and I'm still not used to the spray thingumajiggy method. Many restaurants do have loo roll. But many don't also, and this particular one today didn't. And I had none on me. No problem, I thought, we're pretty used to this. But when I tried to....erm...spray Maya, I managed to completely miss and the water went all over her pants and trousers. And I mean ALL over her pants and her trousers.

'Don't worry, Maya' I tried to say cheerfully, 'it'll dry!' But she knew this was a plain fib, she was soaked and she was howling, poor love. So we went back up to the restaurant and there was only one thing for it: to strip. Now I'm not sure what the waiters made of this, but we hung her trousers over the railings so they could dry in the sun. We decided to draw the line at doing the same with the pants though. So Maya ate lunch in soggy undies. And Mama felt very bad and vowed to herself to aim better next time.

Exams for three year olds

Although I'm really sad to be leaving (have you gathered that by now per chance?), I think we might be leaving at the right time. Maya came back from school today with her exam schedule. Yup, that's right, EXAM schedule. And yes, she may only be three years old but if you think that's plain absurd, bear in mind that the children in the class below her aswell - we're talking little tots of two years old - are also required to swot up for the upcoming exams. Okay, so it may not be stretching stuff but nevertheless, this schedule was handed over to me with a mighty serious look and firm hand today and I had to muster every ounce of strength to not laugh. I mean, really.

These exams go on for an entire week and begin - very happily - the day that we are going to be catapaulted in a big tin can over the oceans when Maya's Mama will be clutching the seat at the slightest sign of turbulence and Maya will be either a) goggle eyed to the tv or b) vomitting which she often does in planes, trains and automobiles. So no exams for Maya. Though I've got to be honest and say that I think Maya would love nothing more than to participate in some serious exams. She goes into complete raptures even when she has some homework to do - I'm not even slightly exaggerating. I think this little lady is going to love school and everything that comes with it. Whenever I pick her up, we always walk past a gaggle of young schoolgirls in their neatly pressed school uniforms and Maya just turns round and gawps longingly after them, mouth wide open. Would you like to wear uniform, Maya? I ask her and she just sighs dreamily and says yes. Which is good, because she's going to be next september. Ohmygod - next september??? Where did the time fly by to?


ps - Photo above taken yesterday whilst she was helping me make soup. Maya loves helping in the kitchen and has taken to her tasks there as seriously as her studies. (Not sure how much help she is in the washing up department though, bless her, as she tends to dunk a bowl in, slosh half the water over the side and then plonk it on the other side, as dirty as before!)

Next steps

One of the first things that Maya said to me this morning was that her knee was paining. It was very mean of me, but I couldn't help but chuckle a little. 'Paining' is such a uniquely Indian word and when she comes out with such words I must confess that I do little to discourage them. Her favourite song of the moment, My bonny lies over the ocean, is another case in point. She puffs out her chest and croons 'My bonny lies OR-VER the ocean, My bonny lies OR-VER the seaaaaaaa!' It is priceless, I love hearing her Indian pronunciations and have started singing along in the same way. I know that as soon as we're back in England, these pronuciations will vanish, so I'm just trying to prolong it a little...tee hee.

Speaking of England, whilst we were back there in October, I posted a bit of a cliff-hanger blog in which I said that I'd let people know where Maya's adventures would be taking us next...bit unfair really as the information never materialised. There were a few different paths, you see, that we could have taken and the long and short of it is that we know now that we are definitely heading back to the UK for at least a couple of years. Andy has got himself a brilliant job in London (where we're going to live though is still being hotly debated!). We'll be heading off again after that but in the meantime, this means that Maya is going to be wearing wellies and tights again, eating warm stews and kicking through piles of leaves. I know she'll miss India but frankly, I think she'll be in heaven back in Blighty. There's also the question of family of course, and in England Maya will have them in abundance. She shed her first tears for Granny Amma and Thatha yesterday, saying she missed them, so we've assured her that she'll spend more time with them soon. That is, if the travel bug hasn't grabbed them by the throats and they don't bugger off round South America next.

So yes, two and a half weeks to go and I'm feeling ridiculously nostalgic already for a country that I haven't even left yet. I keep doing things like stopping in the middle of pot-holed pavements to taste bel-puri and other Indian snacks from street vendors and buying all kinds of crazy, unnecessary but very Indian trinkets. But aaaah, we'll be back....one day.

An ode to grandparents

Granny Amma fixing Lily's travel tent at The Green Hotel, Mysore

Thatha and Lily tucking into lunch

Mama, Granny Amma, Lily and Thatha at Maya's sports day

'The simplest toy, one which even the youngest can operate, is called a grandparent.'

Sam Levenson

So Granny Amma and Thatha have flown away back to Africa. They went in the dead of night and I was worried that Maya would be really upset the next day. But a brief conversation had been held between her and Granny Amma, that they were going back to Africa but they'd see her again very soon. Maya mulled over this for a while and then asked 'Is Africa very far away?' Which reminds me, I must get her a globe (or 'the whole world' as she calls them) as she seems really interested where places are. So there were no tears the following morning, life just carried on without the grandparents. I know she misses them though as we put all the chairs together to make a train this afternoon and the first stop was Africa where she hopped off to give Granny Amma and Thatha a big hug.

Their visit to Bangalore was a great success on many different levels. Firstly, Granny Amma hadn't been to India for some time (in 1969 she travelled around the country by train, sleeping in stations to save money!!) and so it was something of a trip down memory lane for her. Often she would stop and exclaim 'Oooh, I remember that smell!' As for Thatha, it was his first trip to India but he really loved it - the food was a big hit with him too (speaking of food, we seemed to spend a disproportionate amount of time eating and also drinking beer. Quote from Granny Amma: 'This beer is really helping my cold get better.' And yes, she was being serious.) The weather was pretty grey, overcast or wet for most of their stay but to be honest, since they'd come from the blazing heat of Tanzania, they didn't seem to mind at all.

Their visit was also brilliant for Andy and I. Not only was it great to spend proper time with them (it had been a while since they left for Africa in January 2008), but Maya and Lily adored having their grandparents around as much as they seemed to enjoy being with them, which meant lots of little breaks for the two of us. We even managed to read the paper and our books!

Finally, as far as Maya went, both Andy and I noticed that her behaviour radically improved whilst they were here. Now I'm not saying she's normally a little ogre or anything of that sort, she's just a normal little three year old with her emotional highs and lows. But whilst Granny Amma and Thatha were here, there were pretty much no lows whatsoever. She was just so happy to have them there and was constantly excited, enthusiastic and lovely.

So all in all, a fantastic week. If you're reading this Granny Amma and Thatha, I hope you made it back to Tanzania alright and that you make it to Zanzibar. Send our love to the sea - we're so horribly landlocked here!

Maya's Sports Day

Maya giving us a wave

The 1950's-style streamers drill


Maya with Granny Amma and Thatha, sitting out the Red Riding Hood race!

India's first prime minister, Nehru, was born on November 14th and as loved children, 14th November was denoted as 'Children's Day' after his death in 1963. To coincide with this, Maya celebrated her first ever Sports Day with her nursery school today. The event took place in a sportsground in Ulsoor, one of the oldest (and undoubtedly most chaotic) areas of Bangalore. It took a bit of detective work to find the location and I'm quite glad that Granny Amma and Thatha are seasoned travellers and therefore unfazed by stepping over streaming piles of cow turd and walking through building sites that would be cordoned off and the public kept at a 20 metre distance back in the UK.

However, once inside the high-walled sportsground, the sounds of the busy markets and banging and clanging from the roads being torn up greatly lessened. We sat under black-winged kites soaring overhead and a grey, threatening sky and watched as the children lined up in their little white outfits. Maya was so, so excited. In fact, she'd spent the previous two days tearing up and down our small appartment practising her running. I'd never imagined a child could be quite so excited about wearing white shorts, t-shirt and plimsolls. I suppose it was her first ever uniform of sorts, albeit for just a few hours this morning.

After the mandatory speeches from the visiting 'VIP' who tore pompously through the sportsground in his car, stayed to do his podium thing and then tore off again, the children then sang 'We are the world' whilst swaying back and forth and then all let go of their helium balloons into the sky. Unbelievably cheesy, but I must admit we were chuffed to bits to see little Mayita swaying from side to side and proudly holding her balloon as though her life depended on it. At one stage, the string of her balloon became intwined with another little boy's and so the two of them unwittingly had to stand and rock together.

Next came the 'drill' which was extraordinary. The children held coloured streamers in each hand and whilst commands were barked out from the front, their hands went UP! DOWN! TO THE SIDE! Granny Amma commented that is wasn't unlike what she had to do as a schoolchild in the 1950's. Again, Maya loved it and looked immensely proud of herself, bless her little white shorts and cotton socks. As for the races, she was meant to run in a race called 'Little Red Riding hood goes shopping for Grandma' (possibly the longest ever name for a race?) but by this stage, Maya had just about had enough as there had been so much hanging around and pent up nervous excitement and she decided to give it a miss. I think she'd put her heart and soul into the song and the drills and had decided that enough, quite frankly, was enough!

It was brilliant to see Maya in action today with her school friends. She has been going to Kidzone Montessori for three hours every morning and it's become a big part of her existence here in Bangalore, something that we know very little of. This has been her very own Indian experience and it's amazing to think of Maya's transformation with all the tears at the beginning when she went to school, to the excited, happy little lady that now willingly goes each day. Yep, she's done good.

Concert time

Maya, 'dropping' after her shopping to recharge the batteries for the evening concert

We've been in Bangalore for eight months now and we have never been to a classical Indian music concert, so we decided that having Granny Amma and Thatha with us was the perfect excuse to go. We found something we liked the look of in TimeOut Bengaluru (though we were slightly concerned it may never happen as last time we tried to go to an event we saw in the magazine, it was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, on the wrong day!). However, luck was on our side this time and we listened to some fabulous Carnatic music with wonderfully named instruments like the veena, mrindangam and kanjira.

Maya was in great spirits as she'd had a good cat nap earlier on, half-on and half-off the sofa (oh, how I wish I could sleep like that) and spent the whole time at the concert jumping up and down in time to the music and running around the back of the hall. Thankfully, it was pretty informal and nobody seemed to mind (at least, I don't think they did....or perhaps they've been cursing us ever since). At one stage, she spent a long time standing next to one elderly gentleman who was drawing something on her hand. Maya loves drawing on her hand so I suppose she was quite happy for someone else to do the same. She kept looking at me and grinning and I thought maybe he was drawing a flower or something equally innocuous. When she returned to her seat, I was quite surprised to see a detailed biro drawing of Jesus on the cross. When I glanced back at the man, he gave Maya and I a knowing look and tapped his nose. Nothing against JC but this was quite...erm...bizarre.

Anyway, it was a great evening and now I'm pleased to say that Maya and Lily have experienced both traditional dance and music from the state of Karnataka. I do wonder how much of such experiences Maya will remember.

Custard apples and dancing

A serious little face for the serious pursuit of dancing

Maya came out with two priceless comments today. The first one was when she was about to have tea and said 'Mummy, I have to do my studying.' Studying? I ask. Is it really possible that my three year old daughter is saying this? 'Yes Mummy' she says, and pulls over her school books, opens them and starts pouring over pictures of Indian vegetables like brinjal (aubergine), bitter gourd, ladies fingers, guava, amla and custard apples, and other pictures of regional Indian costumes. Ah, we're going to miss this country with it's weird and wonderful fruit and veg and colourful outfits.

The other thing that made me chuckle was when I put a wonderful Madeline Peyroux's song on (click here to listen to it and just ignore the bizarre images of ocean liners). Maya loves this song and started swaying around and dancing to it and when I joined in, she stopped dead in her tracks, fixed me with a glare and said 'Mummy - stop that NOW!'. Rather taken aback, I asked her why I wasn't allowed to dance too, to which she gave me a withering look and said ' You're not allowed to dance in trousers, you have to wear a dress, Mummy.' Well, that told me. Anyone would have thought from this comment she'd grown up on a diet of Strictly Come Dancing, but the poor deprived child's never even had a TV in her life.

Sad really, to think she'll be eating plain old aubergine, not brinjal soon. And she'll probably forget what an amla fruit is. But at least there'll still be Madeline Peyroux.

Mysore and sore knees and teeth

This is my hundredth Adventuring Maya blog - yippeeeee! It makes me chuckle, because not so very long ago, I remember Andy saying to me 'Why don't you write a blog?' and I just looked at him like he was completely loopy and responded with something like, 'Why on earth would I want my privacy invaded like that?! Nope, I'll stick to my lock-n-key diary, thanks!' (It's not literally lock and key, but you know what I mean!) Funny that, because although I still love my diary and write in it a fair bit, there is something strangely, compellingly compulsive and addictive about blogging. Ok, let's stop beating around the bush and be totally honest - it's more than that...I am hooked. And anyway, I've managed to side-step the privacy issue (with this blog at least, not the other one) as it's Maya's world I'm scrutinising, not my own!

We returned this afternoon from two great days in Mysore with Granny Amma and Thatha. We stayed at the gorgeous Green Hotel where we've been once before. Maya absolutely adores this place as she has free reign of the palace (I know, aren't we posh) and the gardens and loves padding barefoot around the grounds, picking flowers and hiding in the palace's nooks and crannies. Mind you, it was pretty darn wet and windy (and cold even! Well, cold for India...) for a whole day and night and Maya skidded over in a muddy puddle on one of her forays and ended up with lots of tears and a badly grazed knee.

Highlights of our weekend in Mysore for Maya were visiting Mysore Palace at night when the thousands of tiny lights on its facade are illuminated and it looked just magical, eating lots of cake at possibly the loveliest cafe we've been to in India, meeting another little girl called Maya at the hotel which she was tickled pink by, being carried down Chamundi Hill on her Daddy's back and most immportantly of all, having her Granny Amma and Thatha around which made her one happy little lady.

A low point of the weekend was when, just as we were about to leave the hotel, Lily enthusiastically ran to get her shoes and tripped up. She fell forwards and knocked her mouth really hard on a glass table. Lots of blood, lots and lots and lots of crying and the poor little lovely's front tooth was even knocked backwards. Miraculously, it didn't come out but she now has one wonky front tooth, a puffed up lip and one sore mouth. Maya was really upset about it too and they didn't even squabble again for the rest of the day.

Back to school Maya goes tomorrow and let's hope that Lily isn't in too much pain tonight.

Granny Amma and Thatha

Granny Amma giving the girls some African jewellery

There's been a great deal of excitement today in Mayaworld because her grandparents have arrived for a ten day visit! They flew in this morning from Tanzania and Maya has been beside herself with excitement. She was even sick in the taxi on the way to meet them ("300 rupees please sir'mam, for cleaning costs") and ended up having to wear Lily's tiny trousers. She also flung herself into a water fountain before they came out, so Granny Amma and Thatha were greeted to the sight of a wet, grubby little girl in short trousers aswell as an unrecognisable toddler, Lily. I say unrecognisable because Granny Amma and Thatha, for those of you who don't know, have been on the road since January 2008 (yep, nearly 2 years) driving from Cambridge to Cape Town down the west side of Africa (as you do) and now they're on their way back up the east side, having reached Tanzania. Yes, they are truly intrepid travellers, not like us living the life of riley in Bangalore! Click here to see their website.

A quick note on their rather peculiar grandparental names.....my mother said she never liked being Mum as it made her feel like a deoderant and I didn't feel, as I got older, like calling her Mummy. So by the time I reached India in 2000, I started writing letters to her calling her Amma as I was in Tamil Nadu and 'Amma' is Tamil for Mummy. The name well and truly stuck and she's been Amma ever since. So it seemed like a good option for her to be Granny Amma to Maya and Lily (ok, so it translates to Granny Mummy, but who's checking) and grandpa in Tamil is Thatha - and there you have it!

I must say we were fairly amazed to even see them at the airport as the poor things had a bag stolen last week in Dar es Salaam, filled with money, passports, Indian visas, camera etc etc - nightmare. But by the skin of their teeth they made it! We're taking the travellers to Mysore tomorrow for the weekend so they can see something other than the highly unrepresentative Indian city of Bangalore. Let's hope Maya manages to contain her excitement on the train and not vomit. Fingers crossed.

What's in a name?

Bex & Andy, Guatelama 2004

People out here in India often comment, when they discover Maya's name, that we have chosen an Indian name. At this point I smile to myself and think, how much time have you got? Because yes, one of the reasons we chose this name was that both Andy and I fell in love with India independently, several years before it was our time to meet. And we knew this was a popular name in India. But there was much more to it than that. Lots of you know this story, but full moon has recently been and gone and I always wallow in a little nostalgia around this time...so here's the story of Maya's name. The other story....

Once upon a time a blond- haired girl met a curly-haired boy (at least, he thought she was blond until the roots grew out and his hope of catching a blond gal were forever dashed) on a Guatemalan hillside next to Lago Atitlan, one of the most beautiful lakes in the world. They got on a bus together and travelled for two hours, chatting all the way without pausing for breath. When it was time for the girl to get off the bus, she knew that she'd be a fool not to keep in contact with him. And so she gave him her email address.....



A month later, they met again and did a full moon walk to the summit of a volcano. By the time they got to the top and dawn was breaking, not only could they see the full moon but also the shadow of the volcano they were standing on was cast across the valley. Words struggle to express this. It was awe-inspiring.



One and a half years later, this happened.....

....and in June 2006 this little beauty was born in our bedroom in Godmanchester.

We pondered over names, but it could only ever really be one: Maya.

Maya, which signifies magic and mystery in Indian culture.

And Maya, named after the wonderful indigenous Mayans of Guatemala.

Maya in India, November 2009