First Video Compilation

Chennayil Adi Vaanguve #flipagram made with @flipagram Music: Thayambin - Banana Boat http://flipagram.com/f/L4zgzrB0sb

The Famous Five

Cutting the Cake at the arrival party.

Santiago, Emile, Jamia, Sonia and Martina. The five AFS-ers in Chennai this year.

Emile is the Di Caprio look alike. Seemed like an enthusiastic kid with a lot of drive. Heard that he was family hopping the first month - from a temporary host to the originally intended host to a new host. Santiago seems to be striking a chord with him.

Jamia is the full-of-beans, laugh-a-minute life of the party I think. This frizzy haired American appears to be settling down well and regaling the fellow AFS-ers with her humour everytime they meet.

Sonia is the Swiss girl who seems to be taking this exchange most seriously. Have heard so much about her nonstop chatter and half-finished sentences. She and her host sister are believed to have taken over the baking counter at Sumeet & Mille's kitchen. She lives the closest to us, at Halls Road, Kilpauk.

Martina. At first glance, this Italian came across as such an unhappy soul. Not a whiff of smile on her face the three times we saw her. Well, may be the all-boys family didn't help matters perhaps. We also heard of the school asking her purple-dyed hair to be dyed black! Tough days, indeed. Hope she too settles down soon.

That brings us to the true AFS-er: the American Franco Spaniard. A right mix of all things right and weird, straight and silly, bright and broody. So matured that he looks to have fitted in with us so quickly. Hardly complains - so we never know if all is truly well. Has had his own W troughs, though. Misses his friends and parents much.

Here's wishing the best to the Five as they move deeper in to their Indian adventure.

Paper play!

The boy has a way with papers.

In his first few days we noticed that he kept fiddling with small bits of paper. It almost looked like a stress reliever for him. Then he made a paper heart for Joan. The proud amma promptly put it up on the wardrobe door.

What took the cake was when he handed me a 5 euro bill for safekeep. And it was a shirt!

Origami, thy champion meet!

Fathers and hockey fields.

Will it be hockey? Or, handball at Bhavans?

In many ways, this is my second shot at playing father to a boy. I keep remembering the Amrit experiences so often these days. At school (more on that later.) In shops. On sports fields.

Santi had inquired about field hockey opportunities even before he had left for India - India being a major hockey power in European eyes. I had my doubts but thought if we dig some we'll get there.

On 31st July, Wednesday we roamed the stadiums in the evening. First to the SDAT Mayor Radhakrishnan Stadium in Egmore. Met some very supportive people there. The SAI coach Mr Manoharan was keen to help Santi and also check out how good he was. He even dreamed of lending him as guest player to a league team, if good enough!

When we walked through the corridors and stepped out on to the turf, the boy's eyes just lit up!

He was reminiscing about his hockey days in France when his dad drove him to the games; and watched him playing in the rain, a lone figure holding an umbrella by the sidelines. His team won that day! This dad-son team seems special and thickly bound indeed.

I travelled not too far back in to the past when I watched with swelling pride a son fight his way ahead freestyle in a swimming pool, stood behind the nets as he disappeared in to his cricket pads, gloves and helmet and the Saturday when I sneaked in to MCC to watch him play a cricket match all armed with big bottles of Fanta and 7Up for his friends. Fatherhood is precious; it just gets better with a son.

The Chennai Hockey Association's Super Division League tournament was starting from the next day. So, we picked up the schedule and promised to be there.

Since we were done pretty soon and there was still some daylight at 6:30 pm, we drove on to an empty Nehru Stadium. Santi seemed suitably impressed with the size of the stadium - oh, and I couldn't believe I was showing off India's sporting infrastructure to an American-French-Spaniard!

A gallery of memories.

And the stadium brought back memories of Anu's first sports day in Ewartian bloomers in 1998 (?) - Garima and her wet-towels holding mom, the shamiana for the kids; her lipsticked, frilly frocked dances in the sun; Amrit's races in pink & grey with me dashing from trackside to stands for the sprints and the relays. And Anu's march pasts and gang fun in her senior years. Oh, never realized how much the stadium meant to us till this day when I stood there with Santi.

Children are a blessing indeed, in more ways than you can imagine!

We went back the next day for a hockey match - Chennai Police vs Accountant General Office. (https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=163388007180790&set=a.163386717180919.1073741830.163008470552077&type=1&theater)The Chennai hockey fraternity seemed pretty thin really. In the break, Santi got his first taste of stadium snacking - pattani and grated mangoes in a paper pottalam. Mr Manoharan asked Santi to join his SAI boys for training the next morning.

An origami enthusiast discovers the pottalam!

So off we went to the sports goods lane along Wallajah Road, past another impressive Chepauk stadium (we should get there for an IPL match, God willing!). Picked up a hockey stick for Santi and a beginners tennis racket for Amrit. That was eye opening: the last time I touched a hockey stick all of them were wooden. Today we were weighing up some sleek carbon composite beauties.

This shopping trip also showed me how much cricket has pushed the other sports to the sidelines. Every one of those hundred odd shops had gleaming cricket bats of all sizes and shapes and prices. Only three had hockey sticks - one of them had only a clutch of the cheap wooden ones, the other had just two models and another hole-in-the-wall had a good range of them. And at every shop we saw people buying cricket gears, college youth with friends, coaches with their wards, even mothers with their sons. We were quite a scene asking for hockey sticks - leave alone the Spaniard-in-Chennai bit.

On Friday, 2nd August I shook Santi up at 5:30 early morning. He sprung up when he heard "hockey!" We were at the stadium at 6 and Santi uneasily mingled with the SAI boys - most of whom were Tamil speakers from the districts. But he also found someone who knew some Spanish players. An hour of hockey practice and he found that his hockey was still rusty from the 3-year break. Rushed back, showered in a jiffy, swallowed some food and dashed off to school. The day was just beginning and he already looked tired!

Hockey or sleep? Hockey won this time.

His school mates had their own plans for Santi, though. Hey, you are an European so you must be great in handball!! And in 200m sprint!!! The Boy Who Never Says No never said no.

With Amrit starting on Tennis and Santi rediscovering hockey, this promises to be a 'courtship' year for a father and his sons.

  

The First Days

Crossing the legs was easy. Using the fingers wasn't.

This post mostly records the jet lag Santiago suffered from.

He slept through most of the car ride home. He slept the most of Friday. Stayed awake the night. And had to go through 2 full days of AFS orientation orientation over the weekend.

On Friday night though, we covered some questions he had to ask us.

What struck me through these couple of days was the gentle and courteous manners of the boy. He was polite almost to a fault, had a nice sense of humour and cared for others.

When I dropped him off at the orientation, there was an instinctive urge to check if he'll be alright. Many times, I wanted to call someone and see if he was ok. Joan kept worrying as well. Tcha... how stupid, he's come alone all the way from Madrid and has done a few canoeing camps already - what can an Indian guest house do to him?

And when we went to pick him up again on Sunday evening, Amrit and I were surprised to see two full families there welcoming their daughters. So, we were a bit outnumbered. It was nice to see the other two families embracing their daughters - one had brought some welcome pastries. Our boy was the only one to have already met the host family.

Dosa + butter sauce = Ghee Roast

It was nice to have him join us in the family prayer time, kneeling beside us. Missed Anu much! (She was having a rollicking time in London, with Kate in labour.)

We were told the children could sleep the next couple of days and think of school from Wednesday. That's welcoming! For any student.

So he slept.

The Waiting. And the Planning.

He was  to have left on the 2nd. Then on the 4th. Oh no, on the 12th. And finally the 18th of July.

Anxious as we were, it must have been far more intense for this 16 year old personification of calm and quiet. The disappointment was entirely unhidden when he wrote to us three days before the twelfth. He had packed it all up and sitting on his suitcase when the news came that the visa had still not materialized. We heard here that the Indian embassy wanted more papers from the school, Bhavan’s.

Meanwhile, this delay gave us some slack in getting ready.

The house had been long due for some basic renovation. Of the floors and the walls and the fittings. Tiles had chipped off. Walls were wavy. Lamps were an eyesore. It was as if they were all waiting for something big to happen. Will it be the apartment’s 10^th anniversary? No. Should it be the next Christmas? Mmm…may be. Or, can it hold till Anu’s wedding. That’s big!

Then Santiago happened. As if a stork dropped him on its way to the south pole from Spain. And it happened in typical AFS abruptness. The first mail was subjected as “Thank you very much Hosting Santiago Roca Herlihy_YPscNH13”. Brilliant! It went on  to proclaim, “We are happy to know that you have selected Santiago Roca Herlihy from Spain, as your host son.” Oh, really?! When, dear, when did we do that? Hey, we are just happy you gave us Santiago, make no mistake, but for a BSF-Family this AFS was a bit of a shock – especially on something of such great import.

That was big! Big enough to press the renovate button.

And life went all topsy turvy suddenly. Living out of loved ones’ homes, lugging tiles from showroom to living room, summer rain drenched shamiana plans, skipping Sundays, sitting on showpiece closets, skimming through curtain options… life hadn’t been so messy ever. Never. For the first time we thanked the builder for delivering the apartment in such shape in 2000 – we could never ever have built a house ourselves!

When Anu came back from a month-long mission tour she had no place to rest her head. I wore the same pair of socks for three days. Didn’t shave from a Friday to a Monday. And took off that Monday.

All so that we can present a good Indian face to a new son! Yes, home is about both first impressions and self-expression.

The house was ready on the 4^th. And on the 7^th. And then finally on the 9^th. Yeah, now we were an AFS family!

It was done. So, what do we do till the big looking, slow speaking, English teaching son arrives?

Plan.

Plan for the welcome.

We would’ve otherwise dashed to the airport, bundled him up in to the backseat and brought him back. Now, we have all the time to plan for something out-of-the-box.

Red and yellow for the Spanish fellow.

Originally, we said we’ll make a four-part placard. SA-NT-IA-GO. One for each one of us. Then Anu left to the UK on the 11^th July. Reducing us to just three little Indians. And we needed someone to click the pics. So, two little Indians. That got us a split placard in the Spanish flag colours. A3 prints mounted on card board and cut out. He can’t miss us, can he?

Then we said what will we wear? Sari and kurta? Why not some special commemorative tees. I quickly got my colleagues to design a 3-piece set and got that printed overnight.

The garland matched his hair colour!

And Saroj Sharma, AFS wanted a traditional welcome! Indian traditions are as not our specialty at home. So we settled for a garland.

We also informed our workplaces that we were taking the 19^th off. And Amrit was foreseeing one of those unforeseen circumstances that keep him away from school. We basically bunked work and school.

As we set off to the airport, we were tracking the flight on the FlightAware app. 20 minutes late, it said. We reached in good time. And waited – like a bunch of event promoters in uniform – for a yellow t-shirt with AFS logo.

Out sauntered a slim, tired teeny bopper in blue shirt and grey jacket. As his eyes scanned the crowd they caught the bobbing yellow boards that said SANT and IAGO. And he broke in to a suppressed shy smile of recognition and relief.

Hands shaken. Garlanded. Picture taken. Our boy was home!

And it was worth every bit of the waiting and the planning.