It’s funny how sometimes the little things sneak up on you. I knew when we moved to India that my life view would change as a result of the move. It had to. I’d lived in Ottawa my entire life, never straying more than fifteen kilometres from the house that I grew up in. In a lot of ways, I was the definition of sheltered.

My world in Bangalore was different on every level from what I have here. I am still, months after we have returned home, trying to process our time there. There were some absolutely fabulous highs, but there were also some lows that led to much soul searching. I am not sure if I will ever be able to articulate how I have changed, or if I really need to.

Still, I tend to notice the little things more and more. One of those little things caught me by surprise the other day. I was in the bathroom when a bit of movement in the tub caught my eye. I glanced in and saw it. The dreaded centipede. I have always been more than a little afraid of these creepy crawlers, because well they are damn creepy, and they crawl so fast! In the past, I would have run screaming calmly excited the room and gotten Willy to deal with the beast, but this time I just grabbed a tissue and squished the ugly beast. Twice, for good measure. Then I raced out of the bathroom to proudly tell Willy of my amazing kill.

Either I grew up just a wee bit in India, or our bugs have nothing on their bugs…

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In some ways, it’s hard to believe that we were still living in India just two short weeks ago. Sure we were winding down and packing up, but the lils were still going to school and Willy to work.  It was a busy time, but the biggest stresses of moving were behind us, and we got to just enjoy our last day or two.  We did and the last days made leaving harder.

I don’t know what I expected when we got home, but it wasn’t just this frenzy of doing STUFF that we have been doing.  When we were home in May we socialized and visited and very little else.  Our house was in great shape thanks to our sister-in-law, so we could just vacation.  Now there are all those little and big things that need taking care of; school for the lils, new car, home maintenance, finding and buying warm clothes… every time I tick one thing off the list, three appear at the bottom.  I am a week behind where I thought that I would be, and we’ve barely been home that long.

What it means is that I really haven’t fully let it sink in that we are home.  We miss our friends in Bangalore, but don’t have time to be sad; we talk to family and friends here, but haven’t really seen them. I feel that we are floating in a surreal in between world. Willy has been gone since Friday, which means that I am trying to do it all solo, which exacerbates this feeling. I keep waiting for that moment where it sinks in that we are here, or that I freak out because we aren’t there, or feel completely out of place because Canada/Ottawa is so different than India/Bangalore; that reverse culture shock that I have been warned about.  Instead I am going through all these tasks in somewhat of a numb state, working through the day and tired at night.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll stop and let it sink in.

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The tears that I had been mostly holding at bay for the last few weeks came spilling out as we drove away that last time. I’m a waterhead, so I was impressed at how well I had handled the days leading up to this; our goodbye brunch with friends, leaving the house, and picking the lils up at school that one last time. There were little tears, but they were hidden behind dark glasses. This was the ugly cry.

I can’t pinpoint what it is exactly that I am going to miss about India because it is the combination of a multitude of things. On one level, I think it would be much easier for me to list the things that I am not going to miss; the unsafe water, unstable power, and bugs to name a few. While I may not have fully appreciated their impact, these were mostly known to me when we moved to India and I knew that they would bother me.

What I didn’t expect is that there were parts that I would love so much. The people of India are the nicest people that you will ever meet. They give and want nothing in return, are kind and gentle, and mostly want to get to know you. I can honestly say that there were less than a handful of people who even just rubbed me the wrong way. The land is so diverse and complex. There is way more space than I anticipated, and so much of it is jaw-droppingly beautiful. I wanted to see it all, and know that we will go back at some point so that we can see some of the parts that we missed. The rich and diverse cultural heritage is evident in the people and the landscape, the larger cities and the small villages. I tried to take it all in and I barely scratched the surface. Then there was the food. It was just that fabulous. I expected it to be better, and it surpassed expectations. I am afraid it will never get that good again. These components all tie together to make India such an intriguing and inviting country, and make it hard to leave.

The part that caught me completely by surprise was the friends that we were leaving behind. I had such a hard time making friends for the first while, and was so very lonely at times. Then things started to just roll, and the couple of friends that I had made grew into a group of good friends, people that we had things in common with, who were more than just the other parents that we saw at school. WE hung out together because we wanted to, talked about more than just the latest seemingly random holiday that had been thrust upon us. Before we knew it we were friends, our lils were friends, and leaving was so hard. I knew that we could and would stay in touch, but we weren’t supposed to care that much, dammit!

So we said our final goodbyes to the best of friends after spending a lovely afternoon and evening together. It started to rain, which seemed fitting to the moment. I started to cry and cried hard for about twenty minutes, then sat lost in thought for the rest of the trip to the airport. Leaving India was a lot harder than I thought it would be.

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One of the things that I did not anticipate that I would need to do before we left was find jobs for our helpers. The majority of the domestic workers here don’t have computers or smart phones, so being able to post their availability to the message boards where the ex-pat families look for staff. I don’t mind doing it, and actually am glad that I can play a role in finding them a good fit with a nice family. What I didn’t anticipate was that it would take so long.

Part of the problem is that we, according to some ex-pats and virtually all locals, over pay our staff.  I don’t agree, I feel that we have hired good, hard-working and loyal staff.  I don’t have complaints about them, my family loves them all and they do not let us down.  I know their expenses, and our wages allow them to pay their expenses and take care of their families without killing themselves working extra jobs.  I find it ironic that, in our community, some of the very people who complain about the wages that the “foreigners” (their word, not mine) pay are the landlords who charge those same “foreigners” an exorbitantly high rent.  While I understand that the wages one pays ones staff is a personal choice, I often feel there is a double standard, in that it is OK for people to tell me that I over pay, but I am not allowed to tell them they under pay.

Our cook, Lakshmi, is a wonderful lady.  I posted her availability in late August, and received interest from a newly arrived family in our community.  I met with the mother, told her all about Lakshmi, including what we paid her (which is pretty much what the last two families that she worked for had paid her).  This lady told me she understood and arranged a trial for Lakshmi.  They were please with her work, the family enjoyed her cooking and the children really liked her.  They offered her a job, as cook and nanny, but for a little more than half of what we were paying her.  She was afraid of not being able to pay her rent and her son’s college tuition, so she reluctantly agreed to the work.

The family was in the process of hiring a maid, so my maid also talked to them.  She ultimately turned them down, as they offered her essentially half of what we pay her.  When they were unsuccessful in hiring a maid, the cleaning duties also fell to Lakshmi.  She was still working for us, working a part time job in the mornings, and now doing full-time work for this family in a little over four hours.  This was outside of what she was hired for, and it was killing her. She came to me last week to let me know that she could not go back.

I didn’t expect that she would ask me to contact the family and essentially resign for her.  She is afraid of confrontation, and worried that it would go badly.  I reluctantly agreed, and sent a note explaining Lakshmi’s difficulty with the work, and asking for the salary that was owed to her.  The request for wages was an afterthought, but I know there have been at least two occasions where Lakshmi has worked and not been paid for her efforts, despite leaving at the agreed end of her duties.  In one case it was a few days wages, but in the second it was a full month’s salary.  I hate that people feel this is OK, that they don’t need to pay for the work when their employee leaves.  While I know that I only have Lakshmi’s side of the story, I believe her when she tells me of the work that was expected, and the physical toll it was taking on her.

It took two more messages, and the fact that Lakshmi had given me the key to their house key to return before I got a response with a promise that the wages would be dropped off and the key collected today.  I just made the exchange, and feel much better for having done this, even though it is WAY outside my comfort zone. I know that Lakshmi needs to pay for her son’s schooling, and this will certainly help.

On a positive note, we have also found her a lovely family where she seems to be quite happy.  I know she’ll love it there, and am very relieved.

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