Shishur Sevay

This is my creation, "Be Kind to Teachers Week"   The teachers here are in a state of high anxiety.  It is exam week.  The kids are relaxed but a bit baffled by the tension of their teachers, and this morning I begged them please to be kind this week as the teachers are having a hard time. 

My reference point of course is the US.  But I have been involved with education here for eight-plus years now so I know the drill. 

1. Within families the mother is held responsible for how the children do at exams. 

2. The other person(s) held responsible is the teacher, the private teacher or teachers who take the children before and after school to give further instruction and to supervise the homework given by the school.  Their bonuses and salary can depend on how the children do. I learned this after our first year when I was quietly told that the teacher was expecting a gift for how the children had done. 

Life often stops for exams.  Mothers and sometimes fathers take off from work with a simple explanation, "My son/daughter has exams."   This can go on for weeks.  As an American of course I wonder what these parents actually do.  They cook, make sure the environment is good, and make sure they study.  I'm talking about college age students too.  Then of course the parents take them for exams and wait for them outside.

As I write the girls are getting ready for an exam later this morning.  For Tuesday's exam I ended up screaming at the staff because with five staff and only six girls to get out the door they managed to still be combing hair when the girls had to leave.  (I forgot in the chaos to get out the megaphone Cici sent me because I told her no one listens unless I scream)

So, this morning we are more organized.  The girls are being great (kind to teachers) and cooperating.  Once in a while I catch their eyes and wink, in thanks.  I didn't go with them Tuesday.  I was hours from submitting our government renewal application and needed to work.  But the headmistress told the teacher she thought I would be there to bless the children.  (Truly, I never seem to get it right.)  In truth the girls and I already had our pep talk this morning and I said I only cared that they try their best and however they do, I'm fine and proud of them.  This is true.  I thought I'd go this morning, but then I looked at the teacher and I knew she wanted to take them.  So I blessed them and they left.

My special blessing for exams, sports events, dance performances — is really funny and incongruous.  When I did my corporate stint at Johnson & Johnson, I wore the appropriate makeup.  It was expensive and made to look as if it was "natural" so sometimes I wondered why I did it.  But I came to think of it as warpaint — what we put on when going to do battle.  It's as much about feeling protected as what it projects.  Well, the last time I was in Frankfurt Airport, having just spent three days with Cici, and waiting for my plane back to Kolkata, I found myself wandering through the duty free make up section.  I stood before Chanel and remembered more than 20 years ago when I wandered into Saks with Heather and we bought make-up, a crazy splurge.  So that day in Frankfurt I looked at some gold specked blush… and tried it and literally couldn't see the difference when I put it on, so I bought it.  That's what I use for my blessings… I brush the gold dust on their foreheads, nose, cheeks and they love it.  It's mom's sprinkle dust.

"Mom" is full of contradictions.  I love fancy things.  I love beautiful things.  I just can't afford them and the life I want here.  It's simple.  It's choices, but I'm not someone who doesn't care about those things.  I'm a failed ascetic. 

I was a foster mother to a teenaged girl in my late twenties.  I remember thinking about drapes for my apartment when I was a resident in Psychiatry.  I saw a beautiful Egyptian patterned cloth and I wanted drapes.  I went home and looked at the windows, imagining the drapes and how beautiful they would be.  Then I asked myself if this was really how I wanted to spend my money.  Then I made the call I'd been thinking about and applied to be a foster mother.  It's all about choices.  I can still see the cloth and still feel the epiphany of choice.

The assignment from Sahapur Sabitri Balika Vidyalaya School, the government school the girls attend, was to learn about the different roles and professions of people around us, and to then dress accordingly and give a presentation.  I've posted a new photo album with more pictures, but these are the girls:

From left to right, Doctor, Politician, Psychologist, Tribal Dancer, Army Officer, Lawyer, Teacher. The dancer was assigned her role by the school teacher.  For the others we had a lottery.  The girl who is "doctor" wants to be a doctor.  After school she checked everyone's heart, including the dog's.

I posted yesterday and I'm posting today because even in the midst of all the trouble, life goes on in very fine ways.  School continues; we celebrate Holi; the girls learn about professions and get to dress up.  Our teachers go out with the girls shopping for an army uniform, a white coat for our doctor.  Bijoy cuts a piece of wood and the teacher helps make the sign, "Vote for me, and for upliftment of the poor."  The little ones have their classes too; Rani sways to music…

My work gets behind and I owe reports all over the place;  I get stressed and take refuge in the dental chair.  A new security company takes over.  The point is, as a Home for children, we do not miss a beat.  That's the priority, the children and they know it, and they thrive.

Yesterday was Holi, our second serious Holi celebration.  (see new photo album) The first year I was just too new to understand what we had to do.  The kids had just arrived.  It would have been fun.  But it's one of those days when people stay home, afraid of getting sprayed by the intensely colored water, so no one around me said anything, and it was one of those days I spent alone with the kids.  I wonder what they were thinking, in this new place with the white foreign lady who didn't speak Bengali and didn't celebrate Holi.  I guess after that it could only have gotten better.  By the next year I was braver, and wanted to know what we could do for Holi, how we could do it, and it was great.  I'm not sure if I blogged.  Some day I'll index the blog, when I have time…… And by next year maybe I'll even be up on the religious meaning of the holiday and we can add that too.

The security situation is improved.  The branch manager wasn't able to change things so I called the corporate office in Delhi.  I'd gotten one of those letters, "Welcome to our company…" with an invitation to call Customer Relations if I wanted — so I did.  Actually their worldwide headquarters are in the UK — which would have been my next call.  Delhi was wonderful and produced results.  The last 36 hours have been fine.

Enjoy the pics of Holi, and here is one I didn't have the courage to put in the album because this post will be followed by others, and people will forget, but on the album…. makes no sense but the album feels more public.  Enough said:

Mummy in Colours, Holi 2009