Number One Son

Number One Son is nothing if not interesting. He is a crazy mix of intelligence and bad judgement, of kindness and narcissism, of maturity and rashness. He has provided Mr. Smith and I with countless stories and a number of sleepless nights. Two new stories cropped up just this week and so, of course, I have decided to use them for this week's post along with a couple others thrown in. I think all good bloggers should exploit their children for material, let them earn their keep.


Number One Son has a fascination with buttons and knobs. He cannot see a button and not push it to find out what it does. That is how he learns, he just jumps in and tries. One day, soon after we arrived in India, I heard a frightened sounding yelp from the direction of his room. I rushed towards his door only to meet him as he shot out and announced, "I have been violated by India!" It seems that while "sitting in the bathroom" he noticed that there was a faucet like knob on the wall next to him, but no corresponding faucet. So, being Number One Son, he reached out and gave it a good turn. The startled yelp came when the cold February water shot out of the bidet attachment that was controlled by the mystery knob on the wall and hit him where the sun doesn't generally shine, so to speak.


Number One Son is a bit of a compulsive shopper. Of course Mr. Smith and I would never allow such a character flaw in ourselves and so we are bewildered as to where he could have gotten such a loathsome habit. The $1,500 we spent on a set of Encyclopedias two months after we were married was an investment in our future. Well, it was. Upon Number One Son's return from his extended stay in the US this summer, we discovered that one of the things he had purchased during his days of freedom was a book, "Stuff White People Like" by Christian Lander. Not only was I annoyed that he had bought one more completely frivolous thing, but for some reason the title annoyed me. It turns out the joke was on me. A few weeks later Mr. Smith and I were discussing the fact that when we see other white people in public we want to run over and introduce ourselves and find out what brought them to India, but they seem to want to pretend they don't see us. We were debating various theories to explain this phenomenon when Number One Son jumped up and ran out of the room, only to return a minute later with the book. It seems section #71, Being the Only White Person Around says, "In most situations, white people are very comforted by seeing their own kind. However, when they are eating at a new ethnic restaurant or traveling to a foreign nation, nothing spoils their fun more than seeing another white person." Whew! I thought we had B.O.


Number One Son doesn't always think things through. This week's compulsive purchase was three black ski masks. You know the kind, two holes for eyes and one for your mouth. This is always a silly purchase in balmy New Delhi, but in light of last week's events and the fact that all of India is on high alert, it seems to me like a particularly dangerous one. "Gee mom, I can't understand why our driver was so nervous when I put the ski mask on while we were driving through traffic." Um, perhaps he was afraid you would both be dragged from the car and beaten to death? Just a thought.


Number One Son is...well he is who he is. A couple of days ago Mr. Smith and I left Number One Son in charge of his six siblings. While we were away, Number One Son decided to make himself some microwave popcorn to enjoy while he carried out his duties. As usual he placed the bag in the microwave and set it for an undetermined amount of time, then stood next to it, listening to the popping sound so as to catch it at the exact moment when the bag reached that delicate balance of mostly popped, but not yet burned. Unfortunately something distracted him and pulled him out of the kitchen. The popcorn was completely forgotten until almost thirteen minutes later when the smell of smoke caught his attention. Number One Son rushed back to the abandoned microwave and opened the door only to find his popcorn engulfed in flames. He ran through his fire fighting options and decided the situation was bad enough to warrant the use of the fire extinguisher, which fulfilled its destiny beautifully.


I thought all fire extinguishers were filled with foam, but it turns out that some are filled with yellow powder. I only regret that I was too stunned when I got home to think of taking a picture. Yellow powder covered every surface and every object in our kitchen. Here is my lame version. Lame as it is, it's pretty darn close.

Make no mistake, Number One Son is still number one in the line up and number one in our hearts. Well...he is at least in a seven way tie for number one.

Conversational Confusion

This week has been a tragic one in India. I don't feel like I can ignore the situation without being disrespectful, however I also don't think I can do justice to the subject. Instead I will provide a link for those of you who may be interested in reading about it, but as for my small corner of the Internet, I will try to provide a little distracting comfort with the silly and the trivial.

In the past couple of weeks we have had several repairmen in our house. I am sure you have noticed that this is a recurring theme. Things here look real nice, but require a lot of upkeep. I am not sure why. In the past two weeks the following things have required repair or replacement:

Kitchen hot water heater
Upstairs hot water heater
Upstairs bathroom ceiling fan
Downstairs bathroom ceiling fan
Washing machine
Dryer door
Electric tea kettle
One wall outlet
Generator automatic on/off thingy-ma-jigger (sorry for the technical terms)
Oven door
Stove controls
The still ongoing stone replacement on the outside of the house


One of the things that always presents a problem when I am trying to facilitate the repair of anything is communication. I speak Englindi and they speak Hinglish. Each of us speaking just enough of the other's language to cause problems and confuse the situation even more. For instance, if I ask when they will return to complete the repair they always, always, always answer "kul." Now, "kul" translates as "tomorrow". It can also be translated as yesterday, but since I don't think they plan on using a time machine to repair my washing machine yesterday (which would be very convenient), I assume they mean tomorrow. Unfortunately, in reality it seems to mean, "Sometime in the near or distant future, or perhaps when you have called us several times but absolutely under no circumstances will I be back tomorrow." You can see why this would be confusing.

Next on the list of confusing customs is the question sentence. The question sentence is a sentence that disguises itself as a question. Imagine that you are in the 2nd grade and your teacher says, "The rain in Spain falls mainly on the...?" Her voice goes up on the word "the" just as 25 children's hands shoot into the air. The lucky chosen child answers, "plain!" However, in the question sentence the repairman might say, "The lock on your dryer needs to be...?" At this point he pauses just long enough to have my inner 2nd grader bouncing in her seat yelling out, "Repaired! Retooled! Reworked!...Re-purposed!" But before I can even draw a breath he says, "replaced." The other day I was listening to a lovely woman who was speaking completely in question sentences. It sounded something like this, "I was going to the? Market. I needed to buy? Bread. I couldn't walk to the market because because my knee was? Paining. The traffic was so bad, that I couldn't even get a? Rickshaw." It was exhausting. No matter how many times I told myself that she was not asking me to guess the last word of her sentences, my brain just kept trying.

The final and most famous Indian conversational wonder is the head bobble. Come on. You know the one. If you haven't seen it first hand, then you have seen it imitated. You've even tried it yourself. No? Not even in the bathroom mirror? Liar. In a typical conversation this can mean yes, no, maybe, of course, I'm listening, I have no idea and finally, what are you talking about you crazy American. The trick is figuring out which head bobble you are looking at. I have heard countless theories and systems that other Americans living in Delhi have come up with to differentiate between the many varieties, but eventually they all fail. You can spot the new arrivals to India because they actually try to get a translation. Mr. Smith spent his first three months in the office doing something like this:

• Mr. Smith - This job is for a very important customer, it must be on time. Will it be finished on time?
• Office worker - *head bobble*
• Mr. Smith - Is that a yes or a no?
• Office worker - *head bobble*
• Mr. Smith - Wait, does that mean it will be on time?
• Office worker - *head bobble*
• Mr. Smith - (Eye begins to twitch.)

See? Confusing, right? After a while you do begin to get the hang of it. Some foreigners have even incorporated the head bobble into their body language vocabulary. Not me though. I know when I'm in too deep.

At this point I should probably apologise for my spotty posting. Mr. Smith has been really nagging me about it lately. So, right know, in front of witnesses, I promise that I will post again...kul.

Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Big political news from the US!

This morning, like every other morning, Mr. Smith pulled apart the newspaper and sat down to enjoy his breakfast. I had a couple of minutes, so I sat next to him and started reading along with him. I wasn't committing to anything, just sort of scanning the back of the pages he was reading. Reading the paper here is always interesting. Sometimes it is the "English as a second language" grammar that catches my eye. Other days it is the world view that is so different from the one I get at home.

Today it was a reminder that the majority of the people here have a vastly different belief system than I do and therefor consider different things to be newsworthy. In the world news section of the Times of India today there was an article answering the pressing question "Who was Barack Obama in his past life?" For those inquiring minds out there that want to know, "...Barack Obama is the reincarnation of Lyman Trumbull, an Illinois Democratic senator and the principal author of the Thirteenth Amendment, which put an end to slavery in the US." If only this article had been published two years ago. Think of the time that would have been saved if the "He's not experienced enough" argument had been eliminated. He was an aide to President Lincoln for crying out loud! Can't get much more experience than that.

The man who made this announcement goes on to say "If we accept the case of Trumbull having reincarnated as Obama, it also sends out an important message that individuals can change race from one incarnation to another," Really? That's the important message? Since Hindu's believe you can change species from one incarnation to another, I don't see race as being such a big barrier.

The newspaper isn't the only time the local belief system trips me up. For example, math and science is a big deal in educational circles here. Medicine and computers are the fields that most people seem to "encourage" their children to consider. This might lead one to believe that science and logic are highly valued. One might then expect to see evidence of that in other areas of life. One would, as usual, be wrong. One is always wrong, isn't she? Because although math and science and medicine and computers are important, so are star charts. Especially when a marriage is being arranged. Star charts that aren't compatible (or whatever it is they are checking for) can be a deal breaker. The stars can also have an impact on what day the wedding is held. Some days are more auspicious than others, astrologically speaking. (Things being auspicious is very important.)

As usual though, while I confidently sit in judgement of the people and things around me, some part of my brain scans my own life for similar contradictions. Dang it! There they are. To me, my faith and religious beliefs are in complete harmony with science, maybe not every scientific theory, but science as a whole. I am sure, however, that there are those who would consider my beliefs to be outlandish, fanciful and down right baffling.

Knowing all this, why was I surprised that that Barack Obama's past lives were deemed newsworthy? I don't know, but I was. One of these days I will get everything figured out. When I do, I'll let you know.

Belcome to Bollywood

Remember when mrs smith used to write blog posts? Man, those were good times... Until she chooses to grace us with her presence further, I thought we could entertain ourselves with a little discussion about Bollywood and Bollywood music.

Movies and music are cultural necessities these days, or so it seems. But the cultural lines are blurred here in India (ok, probably everywhere, but we notice them here more easily because we are immersed in it). At first it seemed that everything was so different and separate from our American culture. Then we saw the influence of the west in clothing, business practices, restaurants (one can't cross the street without tripping over a McDonald's) and many other areas. One of those areas is the entertainment industry.

The largest movie industry in the world is based in Mumbai, India. Worldwide it is referred to as Bollywood, and Bollywood is larger than life. Here, the musical is alive and well. The romantic comedy is big as is the action film. The tragic love story is wildly popular as people live out their fantasies vicariously through their favorite film star. It is actually quite juxtaposed with cultural norms and realities. In Mumbai, the seat of Bollywood, last year a school banned any physical displays between boys and girls. In other words, no hugs or hand holding or anything else, for that matter. But on the silver screen anything can happen, and people attend movies here - rich and poor alike - to escape into that fantasy world.

One of the unique characteristics of Bollywood films and music is that the stars crossover all the time. In fact, in a music video from a film song you will not see the singer of the song, but the Bollywood actor from the film lip syncing and dancing to it. Sometimes the videos come straight from the films themselves. That happens at home too, but the previous way doesn't. I always feel bad for the singers who get heard but not seen, while the actors get seen and seen and seen... In any event, these things have enriched our lives here immeasurably.

Below is a collection of Bollywood music videos from various films. We have come to love the music, its passion and depth, and the fun nature of the sights and sounds, so I thought it would be fun to share some of it with you. Number One Son is quite an afficionado now, so he might be able to tell you more if you want to know. And try to ignore the contrast between the booty shaking, the outfits, and the lawsuit filed by some local people when Richard Gere kissed Shilpa Shetty on stage last year. Some things I just don't get... ENJOY!

First, a music video starring my favorite Bollywood actor - Akshay Kumar:



This next video snippet is from Singh is Kinng (yep - double "n") - a movie also starring Akshay Kumar and Katrina Kaif (they are an oft-paired bollywood duo). It is almost enough to get me to tie on a turban. :o)



This next song I actually sang at a company event. It was a lot of fun, and I sang it for the employees who attended, as well as some of my visiting company representatives. And yes, I sang it in Hindi. It was a lot of fun. Unfortunately, it has pigeonholed me a bit as I am now asked to sing it everytime the company in India gathers for any reason. So I am learning another song...:



The next video is from Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na, a popular movie that is filled with fun music, This song is currently very popular and may be my next hindi music performance:



This video is just fun to watch in any language. It has Akshay again, Ritesh Deshmukh (at least, I think that is who it is) and the guy that makes the grand entrance in the end is the current king of Bollywood, Shah Rukh Khan:



This last one is just fun, and because mrs smith looks cute doing the little hands together head bobble Kareena Kapoor does in the song:



mr smith

Rollin' On The River

Traffic in Delhi is very different from anything I ever saw in Arizona. I have been told that a former expat, who lived here until just over a year ago, once said that traffic in the US is like a production line in a factory while traffic in India is more like a river. Now, he was a pretty smart and eloquent guy, so I am sure it sounded a lot better when he said it, but the message is still true. It really doesn't matter where the lines are, whether or not there is a traffic light, or even if a small child is selling magazines in the middle of the road, everything just flows around it.

I have always loved people watching, and on the streets of Delhi there is always something to see. I have actually considered keeping a camera in the car to document some of the bizarre things we see everyday as we move about the city, but, just like Alice in Wonderland, although I give myself such very good advice, I very rarely follow it. Luckily, it seems that almost every electronic gadget has a camera in it, so we have caught a few good ones.

This first one is a video I stole from YouTube. It isn't here in Delhi, you can tell because if it was in Delhi there would be about a thousand more cars and several cows, but it is a good example of the free for all driving that is common here.

We were recently sideswiped by...

An ox cart! No lie.

This is a very common sight.

(See the leg from passenger number 4 poking out?

Don't even get me started on the whole side saddle thing!)

If you study very hard while you are here...

Perhaps you can land a job here!

Speaking of jobs, I don't see this one in my future.

(Of course with the market being the way it is, who knows?)

Despite the spelling being a little off, the thought of an automated mohel had

Mr. Smith crossing his legs.

Speaking of the spelling being off...

I hope you enjoyed our little show. Maybe I'll put that camera in the car after all.

P.S. I hope you like the special October pictures over on the left. Don't worry, I still hate Halloween.

"Things That Go CRASH In The Night" or "What Did You Say?!" as told by Mrs. Smith

It was a dark and stormy night, the wind howled angrily as lightening flashed across the sky. Suddenly, Mr. and Mrs. Smith heard a loud rumble followed by several ear splitting crashes! Knowing from experience that this could only mean that large stone tiles had fallen off the side of the house, Mrs. Smith ran out into the violent storm yelling, "Where is the guard?! Find the guard!" You see, Mrs. Smith secretly feared that one day a stone tile would fall and crush the poor guard who often placed his chair up against the house. Luckily the guard had taken refuge from the storm in the utility room and was safe and sound. "Thank goodness!" said Mrs. Smith.

A few days later some very nice men came to replace the broken tiles. Some other men brought large pieces of stone to be cut into tiles and still others brought a large pile of dirt to help make a magic glue that would hold those silly stones on the wall.

"But wait," one man said, "even this magic glue made of dirt will not hold these large pieces of stone up. We need something stronger."

"Hmmm..." said the men who brought the dirt.

"Hmmm..." said the men who brought the stone.

"Hmmm..." said the men who came to replace the broken tiles.

Finally someone came up with a brilliant idea. "Let us drill a hole...

in every corner...

of every tile...

over the whole house.

Then, we can put a post in every hole in every corner of every tile over the whole house to make it a very strong house indeed!"

"Yes, let's!" cried the men who brought the dirt.

"Yes, let's!" cried the men who brought the stone.

"Yes, let's!" cried the men who came to replace the broken tiles.

So, that is what they did. They drilled, and they drilled, and they drilled... and they drilled. Soon, people in the neighborhood began to wonder why that nice American family up the street all looked so cranky and why they were all plugging their ears, but mostly the people wondered why they had all developed eye ticks. "Those funny Americans," all the people exclaimed, "they really are too amusing! What would we do without them to entertain us with their crazy antics?"

The moral of this story is two fold. First, when living in India one should always own a reliable pair of ear plugs, and second, American Sign Language is awfully useful.

The End. (What? You couldn't hear me over all the drilling?)

The End!

The E... Oh forget it!

In the mean time, Skater Girl wants to make sure everyone knows that tiles aren't the only things that have been falling out of place aroung the Smith household.

Skater Girl's current stats: 5 teeth lost, 1 grown back, 1 loose.

Mrs. Smith's Wish List

I wish I didn't have to write this post. I knew several days ago that I was going to write it, but I put it off because it presented me with two problems: First, it deals in part with subjects that I have purposely avoided on this blog. Second, I find it difficult to write about the evil that men do.

I wish I was surprised. On Saturday evening a total of five bombs went off in three market places in Delhi. Markets that we like to visit, but luckily were nowhere near. More than 20 people were killed and many more injured. In the last year there have been bombings in several major cities around India, so it was only a matter of time before they hit Delhi. Actually, according to the local paper it has been going on for three years and it was in October of 2005, almost three years ago exactly, that Delhi had it's last large bombing. This latest one was claimed by the Indian Mujahideen who says the bombings were in retaliation for the oppression of Muslims in India.

Before we become too comfortable with our stereotypes, there is a group of militant Hindus that are causing just as much death and destruction in southern India. Everyday we read about beatings, stonings and church burnings. Those responsible say that their actions are in response to forced conversions of Hindus to Christianity. Obviously India is experiencing religious unrest on a large scale right now.

I wish my story ended there. It seems we are experiencing some religious unrest on a small scale in our neighborhood. My family belongs to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, also known as the Mormon church. For the first several months of our stay in India we attended church in Delhi. Eventually we were asked to hold meetings in our home. The hope was that having services outside of Delhi would make it easier for those who lived further out to attend. A few months ago we outgrew our living room and the church rented a building for us to meet in. I was excited about the new building because it was within walking distance of our home but not actually in our home. (The only thing harder than getting a bunch of kids up and ready for church is keeping your house spotless while you do it.) We knew that we might have some problems establishing a new Christian congregation in a country that is 80% Hindu, but we were still surprised when the problems started.

I wish violence was not a political tool. First it was our sign. Most Mormon buildings have a plaque on an outside wall identifying it as a church. Within 20 minutes of putting our plaque up, we received a call from our landlord saying that he was receiving complaints from the neighborhood watch group. We knew the sign fell well within the rules for signs in the neighborhood, but we also knew it was a fight we would not win, so we removed the plaque. Next came rumours about what our members and our missionaries were doing. The rumours were false, but I am sure they hit their mark before we were able to set the record straight.

Finally, last Sunday, as we were gathering, a woman approached the church and told those in front of our building that we had to stop holding meetings. According to her there were those that wished us harm. She claimed to have stopped two such people already. She assured us that if we tried to meet this coming week, the rocks would fly and she would be unable to stop them. After a little investigation into the situation, it appears that someone hopes to gain local political power by using the ousting of our small congregation as a rallying point.

I wish it wasn't true. Religion and violence seem to be linked, despite the fact that most religions preach against it. I wonder how much of it is justified and how much is caused by ignorance and misunderstandings. For example, I considered including three pictures at the top of this post. First, a picture of Ganesh, second, a picture of Jesus and third, a picture of Muhammad. As I looked for images I was surprised by how few pictures there were of Muhammad. The explanation I eventually found was this, Muslims don't have images of anything with a soul because it could lead to idolatry. If that is true, how many people might have I offended with my innocent banner?

I wish I didn't know. Now as I walk around the neighborhood I find myself wondering about the people I see. Would the boy who sells us bread throw a rock? Would the men who say hello to us in the park turn a blind eye? Would the women who smile and nod when we pass in the street come to defend my children? It hurts to think that the people with whom we have tried to become friendly, could turn to violence with a few emotionally charged phrases.

I wish I understood.