Update

To elaborate on the past week, I received a package my family had sent via the 4-6 day express 4-6 weeks ago. Thankfully the doorman knows basic (I mean basic) English because when I got home from the grocery store, bags in tow, he pointed frantically at the post office (3 blocks down the street) saying “parcel, parcel.” I cringed, knowing what this meant: I would be spending the next few hours and possibly the night asking every employee in the place for my package. Having no idea where parcel pick-up was, I did have to ask around. I don’t want to bore you or make any of you frustrated at the situation (we’ve all been to the DMV), so I won’t go into detail. I was in an out in an hour, ran home with my new beat-up gift, and feasted on the Oreo crumbs my amazing family so thoughtfully packed me. It had been a long day.
I have spent four of the past six nights at LIFE Orphanage because they are short-staffed. They usually only have two live-in workers. One broke her arm falling out of the van on the way to school with the kids and the other had to go home for some prayers. I slept, sort of, in the guest room on the second floor with the girls. It was a lot of fun telling bedtime stories and being woken up by knocking instead of beeping. Each night was a school night, so it was homework time until dinner at 7:30 then stories and sleep! The girls loved to go into the guest room because it’s considered foreign territory and only for visitors. I have a cold and I found the only way to get them out was to fake sneeze on them. They saw me sneeze for real and screamed bloody murder when I would do it. It was hilarious.
Today was Parent’s Day at LIFE. I don’t exactly know what to think of this day because all the kids end up sad. About 15 parents, relatives, and siblings came and brought snacks for their child and some to share. That made everyone happy. But, some kids expected their parents to come and they didn’t show, some don’t have parents, and some knew theirs wouldn’t be coming. One girl’s mother passed away a month ago but no one has told her, so she was sad because she was expecting Mommy to visit. The kids whose parents do come are sad when they leave. This day is great for the relatives who get to see their children, but is it really that great for the kids? Parent’s Day comes around once a month, besides big holidays when the kids with families go home and the kids without go to another institution. It’s a harsh system.
I have had the pleasure of being the boot camp officer aka homework tutor during the hours of 5-7:30. So many of them are in the same grade that, without supervision, one finishes the homework and the rest copy it. I want them to actually learn the material instead of just the homework problem so they will be ahead of their classmates instead of behind, like they are now. I first helped one boy with his homework and he got an uncharacteristically good grade on the test. I was then swarmed and found myself helping five kids at once. They are very sneaky and love to go behind my back and look at their neighbor’s paper. Rule number one is “If you share your work, I do not help.” That usually gets them to focus. It’s a lot of fun- the math nerd in me comes out when I give each child a different problem to practice with and get excited when I correct them. The kids like it too (maybe), and I see where my math teachers could have been frustrated with me in tutoring sessions.
My diet has shrunk to a simple breakfast at home, basic veg lunch at the Pranic home (rice with veggie broth, some vegetable, and yogurt rice), and basic veg dinner at the orphanage (something like rice with veggies). I think Asian people must digest rice differently than people who eat meat regularly because I could eat a mountain of it and still be hungry in two hours. Here, people eat a healthy portion and are full until the next meal. I don’t get it. Maybe that is why there are tea breaks- to re-energize because the stomach is empty. Tea breaks are mandatory, it seems. At the travel agency the other day, the man booking my tickets stopped working when the tea came in, took time to drink it up, then went back to what he was doing. All the while I am sitting there, contemplating the meaning of such a break in work. It really doesn’t need an explanation, just like every other seemingly inefficient Indian custom. So what, I told myself, they take a tea break? I like tea breaks. I need to stop harshly questioning all these funny customs. They aren’t mine and they aren’t mine to judge. Nonetheless, I will not stop my complaints about every Indian government office. Even Indians complain about those!
I have one week until my Mom and sister come to visit and we embark and a very un-Indian holiday. Then, I am off to Jaipur, Rajasthan in the north for a 10-day meditation retreat. I will be spending the rest of December in the north- in Delhi and thereabouts. I am looking forward to taking a short break from children (as much as I love them) and seeing more of this land of constrasts.