Back in November (I will catch up eventually) we attended the christening of Kevin Thomas, Ashok's grandson. It was a bittersweet time in our house because Ashok's grandson was christened just a few days after Joseph and his wife lost their baby.
We had visited Queen Mary at the women's hospital and sat with her on a mat in the courtyard, which was overflowing with the anxious family members of other patients. We were a bit of a spectacle, and the audience and language barrier both made a difficult situation even more awkward. Queen Mary's mother brought us water, which we drank to be polite, praying it was clean, and we gave Queen Mary flowers and biscuits. Then we sat not knowing quite what to say.
There was a lot of smiling and nodding and assurances that she was being well cared for, but it was hard for me to look past the crowded, dirty surface of the situation. Medical care here is a mixed bag. There are lovely private hospitals with well-trained doctors and staff, but they're only affordable to the middle class and above. Indian public hospitals, though, are horribly depressing. The corridors are grimy and crumbling, and the sheer number of people is daunting. There are no nurses to handle the daily needs of patients, so family members come to feed and clean their loved ones and to sit gloomily in the halls and courtyards.
We gave Queen Mary our little gifts and Joseph money to help with medical costs, but I've rarely felt so helpless. It was an experience I hope I'll never have again, and I pray Joseph and Queen Mary don't have it again, either.
November's good news was Kevin Thomas. Ashok was just glowing with pride, just as he was a year ago for his daughter's wedding. We didn't attend the actual baptism, which was performed at a small Catholic church in Gabriel and Priya's neighborhood, but we were guests of honor at the reception, which was in a huge church hall near our house. It had all the pomp and glory of a wedding, and at least as many guests.
The program consisted of several men speaking and singing very loudly in Tamil, and of course we were positioned right in front of the speakers so as not to miss a second. If I go deaf early, I will blame this reception. It was so loud as to be almost unbearable.
Through it all, Priya and Gabriel sat on the dais trying to keep the baby quiet. I have to say, this is a remarkably stoic child. He handled the noise, lights and constant handling like a champ. Isn't Priya's sari gorgeous?
Evie killed time by taking pictures of the paintings around the hall ...
... and of the guests. This is our neighbor Janelle. (Patrick: She and her husband just came from Sao Paulo).
I'm not sure Johnny was aware that she took this one ...
After the program, the family formed a reception line and we all filed through to offer congratulations, gifts, and to pose for a photo. Here's the star of the show ...
Notice the pink blanket. Indians make no gender distinctions at all when it comes to "baby" colors. A pink trike is equally appropriate for a toddler boy or girl. I like this. It's too bad gender becomes such an issue around here later in life.
Here we are taking our turn in the reception line.
One of the aunties brought silver anklets as a gift and put them on the baby right away.
And there was food, of course! It was the traditional wedding/christening/name your special occasion fare: biryani and raita, chicken tikka, and a sweet. Ice cream, too! Samuel couldn't get enough, much to the amusement of our neighbors.
I had to post a photo of the handwashing station, too ...
It was a lovely welcome into the world. All hail Kevin Thomas, prince of Ashok's universe!
We had visited Queen Mary at the women's hospital and sat with her on a mat in the courtyard, which was overflowing with the anxious family members of other patients. We were a bit of a spectacle, and the audience and language barrier both made a difficult situation even more awkward. Queen Mary's mother brought us water, which we drank to be polite, praying it was clean, and we gave Queen Mary flowers and biscuits. Then we sat not knowing quite what to say.
There was a lot of smiling and nodding and assurances that she was being well cared for, but it was hard for me to look past the crowded, dirty surface of the situation. Medical care here is a mixed bag. There are lovely private hospitals with well-trained doctors and staff, but they're only affordable to the middle class and above. Indian public hospitals, though, are horribly depressing. The corridors are grimy and crumbling, and the sheer number of people is daunting. There are no nurses to handle the daily needs of patients, so family members come to feed and clean their loved ones and to sit gloomily in the halls and courtyards.
We gave Queen Mary our little gifts and Joseph money to help with medical costs, but I've rarely felt so helpless. It was an experience I hope I'll never have again, and I pray Joseph and Queen Mary don't have it again, either.
November's good news was Kevin Thomas. Ashok was just glowing with pride, just as he was a year ago for his daughter's wedding. We didn't attend the actual baptism, which was performed at a small Catholic church in Gabriel and Priya's neighborhood, but we were guests of honor at the reception, which was in a huge church hall near our house. It had all the pomp and glory of a wedding, and at least as many guests.
The program consisted of several men speaking and singing very loudly in Tamil, and of course we were positioned right in front of the speakers so as not to miss a second. If I go deaf early, I will blame this reception. It was so loud as to be almost unbearable.
Through it all, Priya and Gabriel sat on the dais trying to keep the baby quiet. I have to say, this is a remarkably stoic child. He handled the noise, lights and constant handling like a champ. Isn't Priya's sari gorgeous?
Evie killed time by taking pictures of the paintings around the hall ...
... and of the guests. This is our neighbor Janelle. (Patrick: She and her husband just came from Sao Paulo).
I'm not sure Johnny was aware that she took this one ...
After the program, the family formed a reception line and we all filed through to offer congratulations, gifts, and to pose for a photo. Here's the star of the show ...
Notice the pink blanket. Indians make no gender distinctions at all when it comes to "baby" colors. A pink trike is equally appropriate for a toddler boy or girl. I like this. It's too bad gender becomes such an issue around here later in life.
Here we are taking our turn in the reception line.
One of the aunties brought silver anklets as a gift and put them on the baby right away.
And there was food, of course! It was the traditional wedding/christening/name your special occasion fare: biryani and raita, chicken tikka, and a sweet. Ice cream, too! Samuel couldn't get enough, much to the amusement of our neighbors.
I had to post a photo of the handwashing station, too ...
It was a lovely welcome into the world. All hail Kevin Thomas, prince of Ashok's universe!
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