While I really enjoyed my time away in India – because it’s important for the soul to disconnect, especially as I was starting to get stressed and down after a mixed start to the year, which seemed to be trending the wrong way – it was also a relief to get back home. Even if home is a mess. But having been away, coming home to the mess seems even more jarring, and it’s clearer the need to, and what I should, discard, as I’ve lost the habituation to the clutter and the acceptance of all the “just in case” stuff I keep around. 

Scaffolding was also set up while I was away, as renovation works, which my neighbour and I had tensions over last year, are starting on the front of the house. And already the builder – a recommended one, which I assume is trustworthy enough – is discovering more problems, and increasing scope and price. And as usual, my neighbour is trying to get me to absorb half the costs on his top half of the building, while saying I should pay 100% of the costs on my side (bottom half) of the building.

A short break, in a little bubble, to rest my burden and worries. And then it’s back to the daily grind.

Concours Kangourou 
When I picked up the boys the first day back from India, F asked me if I had heard about their Concours Kangourou results. I hadn’t. He piped up that he was #12 out of >27K students, although there were lots of #12 (most of the top 100 students were joint 12th position), and that O was #45 (out of >62K), but of course it was more difficult. I was really proud of the boys and thought they did brilliantly. I asked O later why he didn’t tell me his Concours Kangourou results, and he said it’s because he thinks he got a horrible score; and he asked me if I knew that F got 12th place.

Firstly, I thought it was really lovely that both boys told me about their brother’s score / achievement and gave them credit. Secondly, I’m so proud of them that they did so well. Thirdly, on one hand, I am kind of glad that O has high standards for himself, that he wants to be better than #45, and he has tempered his arrogant tendencies; but on the other hand, he shouldn’t underplay his achievements either. But I suppose he was disappointed because two of his classmates placed higher than him because he made a couple of careless mistakes. I hope he takes the lesson to heart that he should be more careful in his work in future.

Mother’s Day
I called home for Mother’s Day today, and discovered from my dad that my mum had been admitted to hospital for a broken hip, and is due for her operation next Wednesday. I was really shocked that my dad didn’t tell me about it, and worried. I asked him what happened, and he said he closed the gate too quickly when my mum was walking slowly out to throw out some bottles. The bags were heavy and so she was walking slower than usual. And he started saying that she shouldn’t have thrown out the bottles then – she could throw it out any time; and anyway, she has poor genes with brittle bones, because he himself has fallen with no problems. I was really upset that it was basically my dad’s fault that my mum was in the hospital, and not only does he not acknowledge his responsibility, but also shifting the blame and accusing her of making the wrong decision and having poor genes. When it is a fact that osteoporosis affect women disproportionately more than men,

I asked him if he was going to visit my mum that day, and he said no. I was kind of upset, because I always always call my mum on Mother’s Day, and I wouldn’t be able to speak with her today, because her mobile phone doesn’t seem to be able receive calls consistently.

He got really upset and started crying saying that he thought of me every day, and he knows my situation is very difficult, and he doesn’t know how to solve my problem. I got upset and started crying too. Because my dad has aged a lot since I last saw him. I hope it isn’t due to worry about me, because I can take care of myself. I have to. I just need him to take care of himself, and for him and my mum to be well and in good health, so I don’t need to worry about them too.

At the last place I worked (my bank), when we were looking at customer demographics, we identified one age group (mine) as “the sandwich generation”, sandwiched between twin burdens / responsibilities of caring for their elderly parents, as well as their growing children.

Living abroad means I’ve largely abdicated my parental care responsibilities. I try not to think about it most of the time, because then I feel upset, unfilial, and helpless. What can I do? And in any case, it’s not as simple as my dad makes it out to be, “Come home. UK is dead and Asia is rising. Banks are looking for people, there are lots of jobs.” Just because I worked in a bank years and years ago, doesn’t meant that I can find any job in any bank. I know UK / Europe has a sluggish economy, and there are lots of issues. But I would struggle to live in Asia: i) the heat and humidity, the insects, ii) I don’t drive, and driving is a must in KL; iii) it’s just not that simple to get a job; iv) I probably won’t be happy; and v) I don’t get along with my dad.

Reflections on India
Reflecting on India – a lot of it reminds me of Malaysia of my childhood, 30+ years ago – but on a larger scale, and obviously with a bias towards Indians rather than a multi-cultural society. Although some of the big potholes in Delhi rather reminded me of Khartoum!

I think one of the reasons I tend to like to visit developing rather than developed countries, apart from the cost, is that it’s more exotic and different from my daily life, and therefore a bigger disconnect, and hence it probably feels like I’ve been away for a longer time than I have. And developing countries often remind me of aspects of Malaysia and my childhood, so there’s a little bit of nostalgia and the remembrance of a more lighthearted, simpler time. There’s often a little bit of an edge to developing countries, which reminds me to be more vigilant, and also not to take my usual situation for granted, and to be grateful, that I usually live in a largely safe, and comfortable environment, and that I have largely first world problems. Whereas there are people living in swathes of the world, who have more acute problems. 

I noticed a few things on this trip. Firstly – saris differ by region (or possibly use case). I hadn’t specifically noticed the differences between Mumbai, and Delhi, and Agra, probably because there were many foreigners / tourists, and hence a variety of saris which could be Indian tourists. Whereas I noticed that in Jaipur / Rajasthan, women walking about on the street tended to wear very bright, single coloured sari, with a long head covering the same colour as the sari, that almost drags to the floor. Secondly – most people seem to either assume I’m Japanese rather than Chinese (I got many “konichiwas” but almost no “ni haos”), or I’m Indian. I saw quite a few people, mostly in Mumbai, who looked quite like me (kind of like a tanned East Asian – fairer skinned than most Indians with yellow undertones), but who spoke the local language. My driver said he doesn’t think I look Chinese, but like I am from the Eastern part of India, where there are people who look like me (I assume Chinese diaspora who have settled for several generations in India). 

Reflecting on doing a tour operator organised trip… I haven’t done one in years, mostly because AJ was very allergic to it. But I don’t like it either. From recollection, most of my tour operator experience sare from my childhood, when my parents would book the odd tour operator trips to China. I definitely needed to book a tour operator trip for the ‘Golden Triangle’ trip this time, as I didn’t have time to research and organise; neither do I have the experience and confidence to organise a trip to a country like India on my own. I really liked the fact that I didn’t have to worry about the organisation and logistics, and the tour guides were really very informative, and helped with keeping other tour guides and hawkers / street sellers from harassing me. But I was less happy with the hotels selected, and definitely wish they wouldn’t bring me to visit local craftsmen (even though the craft demonstration was interesting enough), who then show their merchandise, and I feel this pressure to buy something.