A New Building

Leya’s birthday turned out to be a bit overwhelming for Leya-kutty. When she came into the dining hall and everyone was wishing her happy birthday, she was happy. But when she realized that everyone was continuing to stare at her and that she was expected to blow out three candles, she cried. Leya-kutty is an expert at fake crying, but this was a real cry with real tears and real fear. Poor thing. When asked, hours later, about her lack of performance at lunch, though, she was all smiles and full of snappy comebacks. So, despite the tears, it was a good birthday for Leya-kutty.

Yesterday, a new building opened up at Mandiram. About 20 residents who were living in an older building are now in the process of moving into the new one. Aside from the drama that comes with moving – it seems that someone is always found to be hoarding soaps, and the other women (who are probably also hoarding soap) like to gossip about how many bars she had, and so on – the newly moved residents seem happy as clams. I went to visit Traciyammachee and Anamayammachee in their new room, and when I walked it, they were like new people. Despite the rain outside, their room was bright and sunny. Their belongings were neatly stored away and they were chatting happily on their beds. Traciyammachee put my ponytailed hair in a bun (a grandma hairstyle here) and Anamayammachee told me in English about all the going-ons in the new building. The best story was that she had to show one woman where to get water, then where the bathroom was, then where the sink was… and as Anamayammachee was telling the story, the other women kept interrupting her to remind her to tell the best part – that the same woman’s teeth fell out into the sink (and possibly went down the drain)! Ah, the humor of the elderly.

Last night’s dinner was a bit stressful for me. It is common for people here to talk about me, in front of me, in Malayalam. And that’s okay, because a lot of the people here don’t speak English. And at dinner, sometimes the staff (who I’m supposed to sit with) talk about me. So last night, as usual, they were talking while looking at me, and saying America a lot – general signs that someone is talking about me. I asked one of them, who speaks some English, what they were saying. He said they were talking about how the residents had moved into the new building. Now, I can’t know what they were saying, since they were talking in Malayalam; maybe they were talking about the new building. But I’m pretty sure they were talking about me. And I was infuriated that someone would lie to me about it. Why not just tell me? Were they saying bad things? At any rate, I’m going to have to come up with a method to get around (or over) this. And I think it will involve not eating at their table as much.