Category Archives: R2I

As I start my move back to India, I shall write about my experiences here. There are very few R2I forums that are for UK to India returnees and I hope this fills the gap

How the other half lives

Posted on by Lavanya
11
Old Tamil Writing found in the Big Temple, Thanjavur

Old Tamil Writing found in the Big Temple, Thanjavur

 

You know, when it comes down to it, so far my children have been dealing with R2I really well, if I say so myself. Despite being born and having lived abroad for most of their young lives, once transplanted into a totally different culture, they hunkered down and did their best to gel. My son doesn’t balk at using public restrooms anymore, which, in India, can only be described as a triumph! My daughter still does though and turns up her nose but will be brought around slowly.

But there were still some things beyond their scope and when the maternal half of my family decided to go on its annual temple jaunt, I decided that this was the best opportunity for them to have a taste of a life totally different to their own and signed us up. And so, in a mini van, chock full of conservative relatives and puliyodarai, we left on an early morning last week. After stopping at various temples along the way, we stopped for the night at the Andavan Ashram guest house at Oppiliappan Temple, Kumbakonam. The place was much more modern than I remembered, with proper beds and mattresses, attached baths with WCs etc but it was still basic, as per my children. M let out a squeal when I asked her to use the loo! Over the course of the following days, we ate in proper agraharam houses, simple everyday fare, seated on the floor and though my daughter was indignant at getting her dress dirty by sitting on the floor and was frankly horrified at the sight of the roach that peeked out, the response of the lady who served us our breakfast summed it up perfectly – for my son and me. “It is just part of nature, it will let you be if you let it be. What can I do about it, maami?”

The trip was an eye-opener for them and me, as last week, I was wondering why I didn’t fuss overmuch in Auroville. I realised it was for the same reason I didn’t at the Andavan Ashram. You don’t go to such places expecting the Ritz-Carlton. You go for the ethos of the place, for the atmosphere. And sometimes, they come with roaches. But as my children learnt,  just because they all don’t smell of roses, it doesn’t mean you cannot have a jolly good time. They copied their cousin when he did sashtanga namaskaram, learnt to do thoppukaranam, ate off banana leaves, watched various temple festivals, listened open-mouthed to the story of Kal Garudan, walked around centuries old temples and forts, ate prasadam without any salt in it and in short, learnt that you can have a ball just about anywhere.

Enjoyment can be found in the oddest of places, as long as you are open to it.

Sitting on a cannon

Sitting on a cannon

Culture Clash in Pre-school

Posted on by Lavanya
9

After settling her brother in his new school, I finally turned my sights on my daughter. We scoured the neighbourhood, looking for a suitable pre-school / nursery / montessori for her. My requirements were simple – it had to be close to the house, be clean and airy and provide a decent enough stimulation to the child that she wanted to go there.

As her brother was not at hand for her to taunt and fight with, she was getting antsy and I needed to find a school for her pronto. We visited three – one of each kind and I was pleasantly surprised to see how well each of the owners reacted to her. All of them were extremely child-friendly and tried to engage with her. After touring the facilities and talking with the ladies that ran the place, I finally chose one quite close to our house.

Friday was our first day and the preschool was to be open for just an hour, for the newcomers. When I walked in the morning, there was a profusion of parents – many mums, couple of dads – calling out to their children. Many were shy, some took to the place like they couldn’t believe their luck and there were one or two stragglers that were out to embarrass the hell out of their harassed mums and shouted “NO!” loudly and repeatedly.

The Mint, as always, when in the company of strangers, behaved impeccably. When her new teacher saw her, this girl immediately imitated the ‘girl-at-the-prospective-bride-seeing-ritual’. The only thing she didn’t do was draw patterns on the floor with her big toe! She willingly went where I pointed, played in the slide, the sand pit, did puzzles with the ayah and gradually came out of her shell.

I made friends with another mum who had recently returned to India after a decade and a half in USA and we chatted whilst our daughters slowly became friends. As we were the last two left to sign on the dotted line and pay up, the girls had plenty of time to shed their initial inhibitions. Soon, they were playing ring-a-ring-a-roses and other stuff.

But that’s when we noticed the differences.

In England, the ring-a-ring-a goes on for 3-4 stanzas, with the girls and boys dancing round and round, going “a-tishoo|!” to their hearts content. In India, like America, the children apparently sing just one stanza, with “ashes, ashes, we all fall down!”. When her new friend didn’t sit down and do “fishes in the water, fishes in the sea”, Minty was most distressed!

Next they started on ‘If you’re happy and you know it’ – and here too, the words were different, though the child didn’t let that throw her. She just shook her hips and shimmied away. As I was talking with the America-returned mum, we learnt that, contrary to what one might think about the British influence on India, the country is more Americanised now and it is us, England-returnees that are left scratching our heads!

Culture Clash – I’d've never expected such a situation!

One week on…

Posted on by Lavanya
4

… and here are P’s views

On the school bus:

“It is not a bus; it is a van! It is soo cramped and there are no seat belts. I had to hold on for dear life and even then when the driver hits the brakes, I end up banging into the rails.”

On his teachers:

“Everyone is so strict! When you first see them, they are all smiley but then they come into class and give you the beady eye. It just freaks me out! I try to concentrate on my work but when I have to copy things from the board and the teacher is sitting right in front of it, giving everyone the beady eye, it creeps me out!”

On sports:

“Yeah it is good. I do swimming, football, volleyball – wanted cricket but it was full. Then I asked for tennis and was told there weren’t enough racquets. Badminton only girls play. But again the teachers are so strict.”

The School Saga – Part II

Posted on by Lavanya
15

It is exactly a week today since P started his new school in Chennai. He really had to hit the ground running as on day 1, his teacher announced that starting on June 20, the first lot of assessments would begin. The boy, who had never taken a test in his life, had no clue what it meant then.

What it meant was that every evening for 2 hours, we had to battle with his books. Trying to make sense of what had been taught in the class when he was in a different part of world, copying down notes and coming to grips with this new and very demanding syllabus. I have to say, the boy has been coping with it admirably well. He never says no when I say ‘let’s hit the books, son’. After asking me repeatedly in England if he’d have homework everyday, his response to my ‘have you got any homework today, P’ these days is a ‘what do you think?’

Touche!

After a lifetime of sitting at the top table in his school, P is now having to work very hard every day. And I am glad that we brought him over this year as it is evident that had we waited even a little more, he might not have been able to cope – at all. As it is, there are struggles a’plenty, with the differences in the teaching methodology, the expectations and the way in which the schools over here test the children. One of the fundamental differences is that, in the West, the children are asked what they infer from a given situation; here, as long as they can replicate the text, they can pat themselves on the back on a job well done.

As I had looked only for schools that provide French as a second language option, at least he doesn’t have to wage a war with Tamil grammar every night. But, despite the fact that he has been learning French in England for two years, the standard here is so high that you can see he is struggling. Already, he has to conjugate no less than 10 verbs, figure out if the given word is masculine or feminine (from a pool of 25 words), change into plural, give the meaning of a given words (again from a collection of 25-30 words) and learn numbers till 75. A tall order, considering the children have just started learning French!

Typically of CBSE schools, he had to have a third language too and we had to go with Hindi. For a boy that learnt Mandarin Chinese, I am hoping Hindi will become child’s play! For now, we have to just struggle with war, vyanjan and other assorted ills.

Then there’s this beast called Social Science, where the topic is India. The boy is faced with tongue twisters such as Shiwalik, Hindu-Khush, Gangotri and other interesting words. Whatever I might say about him, I have to admit that my boy is game – he plunges in time and again, trying to master these unfamiliar words and learn why they are so important. Any child might have had a meltdown, thrown in the towel and generally, called it a day but not my boy! He is made of sterner stuff than I and is bound and determined to see things through.

But at the end of the day, he is a little boy, in a new world, surrounded by strangers and trying to stay afloat. He wouldn’t be human if it didn’t get to him a little bit and it did, yesterday. His class teacher rang me at 10.15 AM and said he was unwell – he had vomited profusely twice and was complaining of stomach-ache – and can I come and pick him up. I did. A combination of heat and nerves over the impending tests had got to the chap. We had a long talk about it yesterday and I hope that he understands he has nothing to prove to anybody.

He is already a winner.

Of New and Old, Portions and Testing

Posted on by Lavanya
17

A wise lady told me, as I was weighing the different schooling options, that no matter which school I went with, I will have to be prepared to work hard with my son. Last night, faced with playing catch up after reading through the info about the impending assessment, I was reminded of those words.

The teaching methodology here is vastly – read, totally – different to those employed in the West. P’s teachers in England did not believe in making the child feel inadequate or worse, inept. They repeatedly and calmly told their students to correct their ways. When the children played the fool, as children are wont to occasionally, they were admonished, yes, but not so strongly that the children’s feelings are hurt.

In India, sheer numbers make it impossible for teachers to try the softly, softly method. As I was waiting to enter the Principal’s office on Thursday, I had ample time to observe how teachers tackle the younger classes. A Class I teacher was heard yelling at someone beyond my field of vision – when that person moved into view, I was shocked to see a tiddler, just a little bit bigger than my two-year-old. Such a thing would be unthinkable abroad, the child would have burst into tears straightaway and the parents would have quickly met with the teacher to thrash out matters. But this 6 year old just quietly walked over to where his teacher was pointing and in two minutes, was raising merry hell from that quarter! In that moment, I felt quite sorry for the teacher, trying to contain 40-odd bundles of energy.

Having said that, I wish they had given P some leeway due to the facts that it was his first day and it is an entirely new methodology. You cannot expect a 9 year old to hit the ground running – but that is just what they expect. This, in my opinion, is too much.

P felt his first day was a success. It was, a personal one – he has faced up to his nervousness and conquered it. He walked into a strange classroom as a newcomer and walked out in the evening, feeling quite comfortable in the surroundings. He has made many new friends and despite not remembering a single name, is quite looking forward to meeting them on Monday. He has already made plans to play cricket with them at the next P.E session.

Delve a little deeper and you realise the priority of a sports-mad 9 year old is quite different to what the Indian schooling system expects. His maths teacher has scribbled across  his notebook in bright red splashes “Untidy and incomplete work – meet me!” When he saw it, poor P gasped and his face crumpled. He, who was at the top table consistently through out his career at his old school in England, was now faced with not-so-positive remarks for the first time. He deflated like a pricked balloon in seconds. I was hopping mad – why couldn’t the teacher have cut him some slack? Didn’t she know it was his very first day there? Apparently no one, including his class teacher, spoke to him, asked him where he was from, checked if he was okay, is he coping – no extra consideration for a boy tat has been thrown into the deep end.

What is it about these red welts on a notebook that cut you off at the knees? Especially when they are less than laudatory? My son will face many more, I’m afraid, before he settles down into the system.

A long school day, filled with lesson after lesson of different topics, wandering around a vast and strange building had left him winded. He compared his new school to Hogwarts, at one point! When I asked him how his day was, he said ‘it was okay, but we weren’t let out even for 10 minutes!’ In England, schools make a point of letting the children run around in the playground for a few minutes – even if it is during lunch break – so that they can let off steam, instead of keeping them cooped up in lessons all day, like barn chickens. Whereas here, getting on with portions is key and while P’s timetable had 40 mins of Audio-Visual lessons that day, where he watched a movie on Ganesha, he was once again sitting down with his classmates. Little boys and girls need to be able to run free for a few minutes instead of just running from one lesson to another.

Another gripe is the fact that none of these schools have hats / caps included in their uniform. None of the children wear them, as a result. It is shocking to see children of all ages wandering around in the hot sun, with nothing to protect their tender heads.

****************

After doing some homework and reading with me, late last night, I think he has realised that he cannot coast on his earlier, easier way of doing things anymore. For one, he never had to sit down and write tests! For another, his indulgent teacher is back in Brentwood and he has to knuckle down, if he has to win over his new lot of teachers. A long struggle awaits my boy – I just hope the sheer drudgery doesn’t sap his energy and crush his spirit.

The Trooper’s First Day At School

Posted on by Lavanya
5

After many sleepless nights and much nail biting, P’s school finally got sorted to a satisfactory end. He got through to a top school in the city, thanks to management quota. Oh and the fact that I am an alumnus didn’t hurt, I suppose!

As the school follows the New Delhi schools timing for term timings, term 1 of the new year started way back in April and the school reopened after the summer holidays on Wednesday. So before P could take a deep breath, he was told he could call himself a student of the school and may he please turn up on time the next day, thankyouverymuch.

And so he did, feeling quite conspicuous in everyday clothes. We showed up in front of his classroom 30 mins before we were due and so had a lot of time to people watch. P was stunned at the sheer volume of students that kept walking in. His own class has 45 children in it!

As we were waiting outside, few of his class boys stood around being boys and I nudged P to go and introduce himself. Of course he refused. But the minute the teacher walked in and I came out, an enterprising chap claimed him and proceeded to take P under his wing. That irrepressible boy even shouted “bye, Aunty” to me as I walked out of the school! I hung around a bit as the children assembled for prayers. The “standatease” threw P off and he just gaped around him! Then the choir started singing in earnest and it was with  pleasant surprise that I found myself humming along as the long forgotten words came flooding back into my memory banks.

I had to go back to school to pick him up and put him on the right bus. As the teacher had also dropped the bombshell of impending Assessment tests, I was asked to come early to copy down the class notes. Even as I showed up sweating and panting, the lady sweetly said she’ll lend me her notes so I can simply photocopy the lot!

On the way back home on the much crowded bus (which also brought back memories of the days I spent on a similar bus travelling from Ashok Nagar to the school every day), we chatted about how his day was. He said he has made loads of friends but has forgotten the names of everyone! But never mind, he had a trick – he was just going to discreetly read the names off their ID cards! His classmates thought he was from America, going by his accent and were most surprised when he said “England, actually.”

The lessons were alright, I hear. He didn’t have a problem understanding what he was taught and he could easily keep up with the rest of the class. Now and then, someone couldn’t understand what he said but overall, everyone was quite easy going and eager to help him out. The boys had lots of fun playing with his plastic cutlery during lunchtime, apparently!

In fact, I found the children super sweet and tripping over themselves to help. Yesterday, when I was taking down the class time table, 3 girls separately asked me if I was a parent and if so, where was the child. This afternoon, as I waited to pick up P, every other boy that walked past me (they had a session at the Science Labs) to get back to class told me P was right behind and he was doing alright!

I think the fact that P doesn’t seem nervous at the thought of the school says it all, really. Even the thought of impending tests haven’t jarred him much.

So, that was that, the much dreaded first day. Can I just say a gazillion thanks to everyone that sent me best wishes?

PS: Yesterday, I stood in front of my Comp Sci teacher and went “do you recognise me?” and was gobsmacked when he did! He then proceeded to tell the inmates of the school office who I was, which year I graduated and after that, everyone was super happy to help me, former student and all! Personally, the best bit of the day was meeting my old school bus driver, who is still working as a driver at the school. The dear old man had tears in his eyes upon recognising me. Took me around and introduced me to the other drivers, spent a good while catching up with me and even came with me as I caught an auto back home!

As my road forks

Posted on by Lavanya
2

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

—-The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu!

Posted on by Lavanya
29

 

Trees in Bloom

Trees in Bloom

This is it! My last full day in England. After calling it home for over 10 years, I shall leave its shores tomorrow for India. I am full of apprehension at this point – is this move for the best? Will this have a positive impact on our family?

A few days back, I read Rohini of Mama Says So’s blog post on moving. I nodded my head to much of her words about loving life in Mumbai and her thoughts of leaving the city ‘cos my feelings about this town that has been my home for the past decade are quite similar. This is the place I have lived longest – as a child, I ended moving homes every few years. I suspect my parents have a touch of gypsy in them as after a few years in a house, they’d get itchy feet and we’d move. And so, we’ve lived in different parts of Chennai, from West Mambalam to Ashok Nagar, from KK Nagar to Kodambakkam, to Besant Nagar. Living in the same house for 9 years is something of a novelty!

Our home is extra special to me for another reason – when we bought it many years back, I became the first person in my family to purchase a property. I still remember my dad’s words then, “you’ve managed to do something I haven’t managed in 25 years of married life in just two.”

This is where my children were born, where they took their first steps, crossed their first milestones. These are the streets I walked around, pushing them in their buggies. This is also where I worked – I was lucky enough to land a super job mere minutes from home. Lucky with my workmates, the kind of work and the insights it gave me into life in England. It was thanks to that job that I learnt about the university I eventually did my Masters in.

This is the only home my children know. As far as they are concerned, their life here is perfect. My son’s happy with his school, his friends, his teachers. He plays football, learns swimming and violin. He plays with the local Beginner Orchestra and is a member of the Cub Scouts. He enjoys as well rounded a life as you can imagine a 9 year old boy having.

My daughter’s life is much more relaxed – park, play group and song sessions at the library are what her days are made of. And she loves it. As a family, we get to spend loads of time with each other. Weekends are all for us to chill and relax. Living quite close to the countryside meant we were spoiled with massive country parks, farms where we could pick our own fruit & veg (we used to love picking our own strawberries and making homemade jam), going for long drives in the narrow, winding roads.

So, you might wonder, yet again, why this change now, when things are going smoothly. That’s where my perverse nature comes in! Plus, it is like my reader Pepper said – when you live abroad, you cannot stop thinking of returning to India to settle there for good. The pull of the motherland is too great to ignore.What about the extended family – the grandparents the children rarely get to see? The uncles, aunts and cousins they never meet for tea? Aren’t they worth swapping the greenery and clean air for? That is the question, isn’t it?

Once you have lived abroad for a while, you are never really sure you will fit into life back in India as easily as you used to. Throw children into the mix and the doubts multiply. Despite making a decision, you are still filled with doubts. But we have been thinking and rethinking this for years now and the time has come to take the next step. For better or for worse, we have decided to give R2I a shot and go with Plan A. If that fails, there’s always Plan B. Or Plan C. Watch this space!

In the meantime, wish us luck and I shall see you on the other side.

Ten Best Things About Living in England

Posted on by Lavanya
12

These Brentwood Streets

These Brentwood Streets

As I come to the end of my stay in England, I made a list of the ten things I love about my life here.

The Dawn Chorus

The morning medley that starts around 4.30 AM every morning without fail and continues till 9.00 AM. With every passing minute, more birds join in and it sounds a riot! I will certainly miss the song birds in Chennai, where the traffic and the pollution have driven out the little birdies.

The Weather

English weather gets pretty poor press and not without reason. But I like it for its unpredictability. It will start out sunny but the afternoon might bring thundershowers or even hail, if you are particularly unlucky! Dressing in layers and never going out with an umbrella become second nature pretty quickly. I love to breathe in the air when it carries a nip in it – smells so much cleaner and fresher.

The Greenery

There’s a massive country park near my house and the roads are carved without disturbing the trees. Driving through those tree-laden roads that go winding down gives you such a heady rush, I tell you! There’s something about looking up at the leafy canopy that brings pure joy in your heart.

The View from my Kitchen Window

As soon as spring hits, the barren trees start sprouting and suddenly around Easter, they are covered in green leaves. It completely alters the visuals and the number of birds that come and enjoy it dramatically increase. Such a thrill to look at whilst cooking or washing up.

The Small Town Aspect

This is one of the best reasons of living here – close enough to the city that you can go for a night out but still, with its unique mix of country that you don’t feel lost in it. Something that is appealing to more and more people that population is exploding, unfortunately :(

The Wide Open Spaces

There’s something about Britain and its love of wide open spaces. You might be in the middle of a great city like London  but you don’t have to go far to get to some green, a water feature, some ducks and a calming spot to unwind with your lunch. As I lived out of the city, I had my pick of country parks to choose from and boy, will they be sorely missed!

Mine Own Life

I am a bit of a loner and having no one to question me and my actions was the best part of living here. Sundays meant lazing in bed until whenever, without a milkman or a courier guy to rouse me out of bed.

The People

I know many people find the English quite cold – I did too, when I came here 10 years back – but over the years, their reticence has grown on me. In their “I shall mind my business and leave you to mind yours”, I found comfort. In their “let’s rally around now that the time calls for it”, I found solace.

The History

This is true of the whole country as such, not just Brentwood. I love English history and have loved visiting places that made the history come alive for me. When I visited the Hampton Court Palace, I could imagine Henry VIII walking the corridors. At Hever Castle, I could imagine a young Anne Boleyn wandering around the gardens. In Lake District, as I saw the cheerful daffodils dancing in the breeze, I could see Wordsworth drawing inspiration from them. I could feel everything in me stand still as I stood at the Glenfinnan Viaduct, as a lonely steam train whistled its way past. The rolling hills, the hedges, the age old forests… there’s things about this country that has me in its thrall.

The Way of Life

I love the importance given to your life – it isn’t all work,work, work. Weekends are yours to do as you see fit and despite the fact that most weekends would see us do the mundane, I liked how we could hangout as a family the whole weekend, instead of losing the time on useless things. Spring meant picking our own berries at the local farm, summer meant days at the park, the race for life, the various events at the country parks, a short break or two, autumn meant new school year and all that it brings, winter meant christmas, school concert, the new year, snow…..