Post-India blues

Every year I announce to nobody in general that the annual holiday for that year will not be in India. Trips to India are not holidays - they are like mud wrestling in family politics - hardly the recipe for a restful, relaxing break. I refuse to waste another annual vacation on power-cuts, potholes and incessant annoying comments from supposed well-wishers. And then again, despite A's many urges to the contrary, we end up going back, time after time.

This time it will be different. That's what I say every time. And every time, it is the same story. Only, this time, it was even worse. Because the poor little 8 month old who just couldn't take the enormous change in surroundings was at the receiving end of popular misunderstanding and censure.

Why does he cry so much? Why won't he come to us? Why is he so clingy? Why is he so thin? Why doesn't he get comfortable? Why won't he play with us? What's his problem with us? He is such an angrez! I got sick and tired of the general insensitivity towards a baby's needs. And believe it or not, most of it was coming from other mothers. N was, for them, a performing monkey, and if he didn't provide the entertainment that everyone expected of him then something just wasn't right with him.

And it got so bad that we decided to cut short the trip and return home. A good 10 days before the original plan. I am glad we took that call. Between a very unhappy baby and very pushy family, there was no holiday to have - only increasing amounts of agony. There is something very wrong when a child is treated with such little dignity. I for one wasn't going to let that happen to my baby.

Yet leaving India in such bad taste is so painful. It's been four days since we returned, N is back to being a happy bunny, but I still can't get over it. Not yet at least.

I promise next year I will not go to India for the annual vacation.

But I think next year my brother might be getting married - in India :-(