Our “native” place

India is all about where you’re from. Since I have roots here, saying I’m from the U.S./America/California/SouthernCalifornia/nearDisneyland is rarely enough. Instead, I usually get “where you are basically from?” in some variant until I affirm my Indian roots. There are times when I try to emphasize my American-ness (so I don’t get the “when is the American officer coming” look), but most of the time I’m happy to acknowledge Tamil Nadu as my native place. Quite frankly it would be dumb not to use such a stellar icebreaker.

Conveniently, my parents’ native villages are located in a district I was slated to visit for work this year. Neither of my parents lived in these villages, but roots are roots, even if generations have passed. So I did a couple of days of media contact and outreach, and then had my family join me for the weekend to visit the homeland. I’m really happy K and the kids were able to see the villages, and that my parents were with us to explain everything. I continue to feel exceedingly lucky about this posting and all the perks it has afforded us.

Visiting Gangaikondan (my dad’s village) first, we stopped by the main temple. On our last visit, in 1995, the temple was basically abandoned, but a helpful local girl guided us through some of the chambers. We entered one and it was straight out of Indiana Jones (sans monkey brains), as we were greeted by hundreds of bats swooping berzerkedly through the room. As my sister and I cringed in fear, the girl looked at us incredulously–“you’re afraid of bats?”

I had hoped to leave a better impression this time. We walked into the temple, now renovated and more or less operational. It’s on a large ground, so there are temple chambers but also untended land within the perimeter. After a few minutes walking inside, Ruben announces in a panic, “I have to go poo poo. Now.” We look around helplessly, and ask the locals for options. They all point to the untended land, full of bushes and brush and who knows what else. K grimaces– in a temple? Is that even allowed? But Ruben clearly was having issues, so my mom (what a star!) marched him out to the bushes and facilitated the deed. As a cadre of villagers watched, I thought, so much for impressing the locals, unless they appreciate the seamless transition from consecrate to desecrate. Or defecate, as it were. Sigh.

On the other hand, there were still bats, and I stood bravely without flinching, so at least I have that going for me.

—–
Our visit to the two villages and a local waterfall/getaway place was chronicled in Kardashian-like fashion by a local Tamil newspaper and WebTV interview. I’m surprised my ever-expanding head fit in the pictures.

And the video (apologies to Savitri Aunty for my Tamil): Dinamalar WebTV spot

—–
Other, unrelated notes: on a drive recently, Ruben started asking questions about dinosaurs (where’d they go, what’s “extinct”?, etc.). Upon asking what they eat, Rohan eagerly jumped in, with the usual two-year old staccato (you can tell they have something to say, and they’re working super hard to formulate the words, but it ends up coming out with pregnant pauses after each word). “DINOSAURS…EAT…lunch. Mockery aside, Rohan is actually pretty verbal, though only fast when irritated (“I don’t like that”).

Ruben, joining the phonics fiesta, just asked us “what’s puhdahf?” Eh? And he shows us: pdf. Reminds me of Manik’s friend who thought North Carolina’s leading grocery store was K-Roger…

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