Shishur Sevay

Orcas have families.  They swim, sing, chatter, and love in familial groups.  When the family gets too large, they split off, extended families, with relatives in all parts of the ocean.  Orcas in captivity live alone, do not swim, sing, chatter or love in pods.  Some live in parks, far from the sea, with trainers they learn to trust and obey,

and visitors who come to watch them.   

But when the day is over, when the show is over, home is a tank behind the stage.

  and they are alone.

It was May 2006 when I came back from India to see my two daughters graduate, Cici from Barnard College, Heather from New York Law School.  I came also to close out the apartment I had rented in NY, put a few remaining possessions in storage, and leave for India.  But before I left, Cici and I took a long postponed trip to San Francisco and Northern California.  It was an adventure, and a chance to just spend time together.  She was my baby — the youngest is always the baby.  Now she had graduated and would move in with Heather and Andrei, and I would close the nest (even the temporary one) and fly off to care for orphans in the city of Cici's birth.  Yes, I felt as though I were abandoning my children (grown as they were) but I heard the voices of the children calling me from India.  I had to go.

The epiphany of the trip, the ten days together, was at Six Flags Marine World outside San Francisco.  We had stopped there on our way back from the redwoods up North.  But for reasons unknown, the plight and life of Shouka, the killer whale brought home to each of us the meaning and intensity of separation and belonging.

Orcas have been a part of our lives since then.  For Cici's birthday the next year I contributed to a fund to save Orcas, particularly those in marine parks and other amusement places.  The world of orcas became part of the conversation of our separation.  For Cici, as a transnational adoptee, pods, families where one belongs or not, countries where one belongs or not are part of her everyday thoughts and experience.  For me as a mother who Cici describes as "overly attached" leaving my children in the US behind, to come to India to care for the children here pulled at me, weighed on me — sometimes I drove myself nuts thinking about all this.

I write now, 10th September 2009, as Cici, Heather, and Andrei are in Alert Bay, Vancouver B.C. where they were hoping to find whales, and where today the found them and other sea animals in abundance.  Cici wrote on Facebook:

Dream day! Steller sea lions, humpback whales, muerres + guillemots (seabirds), porpoises… and… ORCAS! A family of 4 (three siblings, one mother)! It was pouring but now the sun is shining over Johnstone Strait.

This is a mother and baby.  The people on the boat knew their names.  They know all the whales who visit, their ages, their relationships with each other.  Here is another picture, a mother and baby flanked by her two sons, swimming in synchrony.  

The visitors have to come to THEIR home to see them.

This is my pod, or the American part of my Pod.  Today was an epiphany for me too.  I miss my kids terribly.  I wish I could be with them to see the family of whales, mother and baby, mother, baby, and sons…. but I am mother to another Pod now, or another part of my Pod.  I am here because the children who called to me had lost their families, but more importantly they had lost their pods.  They had no extended family to swim with.  They had no familiar songs or chatter, or even familiar strands of love.

I have made a pod here.  My children no longer live either in the sea unprotected, or in an aquarium, captured. It's what is often not understood, the the orphan loses her pod.  She can't tell what sea or island she comes from, who are her aunts, uncles, siblings, extended pod…. they have all be lost. In the most profound way they are alone.  

Now I protect the children who called to me, the ones no one else would nurture and love, the disables who had to be excluded from the family.  And yes, as Cici described, I am probably "over attached" and "over protective" as others say.  I love being a mother.  One day I WILL be able to spend time away, but this pod is not yet secure enough to swim without me.   That's why I can't just go off to watch the whales in Alert Bay.  That's why I can't cross the ocean to join my grown children.  But I do miss them, and I treasure the modern means by which we can talk, chat, share pictures, and extend our love to each other.

The girls put on Little Red Riding Hood for Teacher's Day (in Bengali).  They were fantastic, twice.  They did one production at their school to honor their teachers there, and then again later at Shishur Sevay to honor our teachers here.  Time is always short, and this time I canceled classes at Shishur Sevay all day so they could prepare for the next day.  Our special ed teacher took responsibility and also developed a program that included all 12 girls, the abled and the disabled, or as we call them boro bacha (big children) and choto bacha (small children).  She is the only teacher who can manage all 12 at one time, and keep everyone engaged and happy.

I went out to the big market in North Kolkata to look for costumes and masks and found a wonderful little shop in Barrabazaar, up a narrow flight of stairs, and into a room with paper mache masks of all sorts hanging from the ceiling.  I quickly found my wolf, parrot, and rabbit masks, and also saw the huge variety of costumes they have, including for dance.  This place is a find!

The next morning we all went to school in the rain.

Ganga and Bornali go in their runner's strollers.

The teachers sing for the students.  The students give flowers and other gifts to the teachers.

Ganga and Bornali watch (well, Ganga watches the camera because she will then insist on seeing the picture).

I shot the pictures of Little Red Riding Hood production as video so I have no stills to post.  After school we returned to Shishur Sevay where after some chaos we started our Teacher's Program.  The chaos was because the girls dutifully washed their costumes because they were wet so we had to totally re-outfit them for the second production of Little Red Riding Hood.  I wish I could say I was calm about it but I wasn't.  I hadn't wanted them to change at all, only the ones in white. But the staff interpreted that as wanting all the clothes washed and the girls totally pitched in to be sure that NO costumes were left unwashed — all in a matter of ab out ten minutes. I think my real reason for upset is that I'd wanted pictures of them in the same costumes to post — the photographer me upset that my shoot had been disturbed.  I do laugh at myself — frequently!

Back at Shishur Sevay the program began with the girls blessing their teachers. 

Then Sonali was prepared for a dance, but she wasn't altogether happy about it.

She didn't like socks as ears or socks on her hands as paws.  In fact she really didn't like being a rabbit.  Or, maybe it was just stage fright.  When the music started she rose from the floor and moved gracefully with the song. 

You can see that she has already shed the socks on her hands. But in the end she was very happy with her performance and promised to do it again.  Her one request is that she not have socks on her hands because in case of emotional emergency she can't get her two thumbs into her mouth quickly enough.  We have agreed, so expect to see more performances from her, and the others.

The performance by all twelve is only on video.  Little Red Riding Hood as performed at Shishur Sevay is also mostly on video.  But the Shishur Sevay Players are an enthusiastic group, as you can see from the intense interest of the audience. 

One day I will figure out how to get video into this too.  But stay tuned for the eventual further performances of the Shishur Sevay Players. 

Heather didi and Andrei dada came to visit us in June.  Now it is mid August.  They came at a time of major crisis.  I have far less pictures than usual.  We had far less time together than we had anticipated.  This is a post that has been waiting to be blogged, and now I have a chance to reflect back on the visit, re-enjoy the pictures, and write.  Heather is my older daughter, and Andrei her husband.  We are a very small family, Heather, her husband, and my younger daughter Cici.  The four of us are close.  The three of them are close.  I miss them.

Heather and Andrei first came to Kolkata in August 2007 to visit me.  Heather explained that she was ONLY coming to see me as she didn't really expect to enjoy any other part of the trip. However, I know my daughter well, and I know her warmth and big heart, and comfort with  children.  She has always loved being with children, and she has always been amazingly funny, energetic, and reassuring with them.  She was/is always a great big sister.  As for Andrei, I knew he would have a great time here.  So these are some pictures from their first visit, in August 2007:

At Home

At School

 At Pizza Hut

And then the next year, Summer 2008, they brought Cici didi too!  Here we are in a rare photo of us all. (That's me in the sari.)

So this year was their third trip and by now we had all sorts of "family rituals" with the girls. We went to Aquatica again.

An exhausting day for all

This year we went to MacDonald's instead of Pizza Hut

But the best is always hanging out at Shishur Sevay, time of just being together.

This year Andrei and Heather celebrated 11 years of marriage — flowers, superb chocolate cake, and an evening out in Kolkata.  Two places were closed, and the other was about to have a private party, but we had fun.

Eleven years and as much in love with each other as the day they married.  I am also a very fortunate mother-in-law, which holds a lot of sway in India! It is one thing to have my daughters visit, but quite another, and admirable, to have my son-in-law come.  In the last two days we have decided that he will come and help me with some matters here.  We are a small family, my two daughters and son-in-law, and we have our conflicts, but we are family.  Cici calls us a "Funny Family" on Facebook.  Heather used to be the older of two, and now I have twelve more children.  Cici used to be the baby of the family and now she is second of the 14.  These are not easy adjustments.  In fact, having a mother go off to another continent to become mother to 12 orphans may be admirable, but not easy for those who are far away.   My children are very proud of me, but they wish I were closer, and they wish most of all that I was not faced with crisis after crisis in trying to care for the children here.

Here are my kids in Vancouver last year.  They will be going again soon.  I wish I could go with them one year.  I wish things would settle down here and be easier.  I love my life here, but I miss my kids in America and wish I could be more a part of their lives too.  I am under siege here and it wears on me.

My kids in Vancouver last year

I miss them.