Of course, they are here for two months, so it’s not as if we won’t end up having plenty of family time together – but I do wish they didn’t have to spend so much time at our house by themselves. I worry about them getting bored; even Kajol, the energizer puppy, can only go for so many walks. I fret about all the interesting monuments and historic sites we aren’t seeing in the evenings for lack of energy and sunlight. And I’m genuinely distraught that, at some point, they might break The System while we’re away at the office.

The System, you see, is the underlying, um, order that controls the chaos of our lives. It’s the three piles of letters and bills ,discordantly stacked on the counter top, which cannot be mixed. It’s the pile of clothes on the closet floor that magically rotates, allowing for the least wrinkled and least pungent item to float to the top when needed. It’s the random junk strewn all over the living room by my inner Feng Shui master that lets me find the scissors, postage stamps, or a hair band right when I need it. Move one thing, and it’s quite possible that my entire life will be ruined. Or I won’t be able to find my favorite lip balm. Basically the same thing.

Aditya and I have developed The System through many years of practice, and Maa and Baba just can’t hope to learn the dance in only a couple of months. The System is breaking under the weight of four adults in the same space doing their own thing.

First, there were all the delicious Indian leftovers in the fridge – where did my aging vegetables go? Where’s the moldy cheese? Who hid the frozen meals behind all these rotis?
Then there were the piles of clean clothes appearing in our bedroom - I can’t find my sweater; it’s not on the floor or the ironing board, or draped over a chair, or wedged under a couch cushion… oh, the dresser!
Finally, we hit rock bottom when I walked in the door after work one day, and found the Kajol fur dust balls had disappeared, and the wood floors seemed distinctly… shiny.

I enquired about the radically changed appearance of my home, and Baba told me he had cleaned it. Having been raised to be polite, I thanked him profusely, and told him that there was no need to do so much housework during the day. Frankly, I was a little embarrassed at the state that Aditya and I had allowed the house to descend to – especially with guests visiting. Baba replied, saying, in effect, that “No, no, you should not thank me. I consider this my house too, and I have a responsibility to keep it clean.”

I’ll admit that this statement… pricked me a bit. “No,” I thought, “this is my house, and I’ll decide however clean it ought to be. And I can darn well thank you if I want to.” There may have even been a mental image of a tongue sticking out somewhere along the line. Before I could voice these fleeting thoughts, however, the slightly more rational and mature part of my brain asserted itself.

“Wait a second, Gori. You get home tired from work, walk in the door, and are upset that someone cleaned up the house for you? And, hey, did you notice that delicious smelling curry on the stove? You know, an Indian curry, cooked by someone from India, where the whole extended family home is a common thing? And where duties – particularly familial duties – are considered things you just do, not things you’re thanked for? Remember how you and Aditya always use to have arguments over his lack of please & thank you? Yeah… let’s connect those dots now.”

So, yes, some papers were moved out of their traditional place. And it took me two days to hunt down my favorite blue scissors, which Maa absconded with to use while knitting an all green outfit for a grandson on the way (no, not mine, and yes, I suspect he’ll look like a little, but awesome leprechaun). The System is shot, and that can be a little frustrating, even if there are new benefits to this short-term extended family lifestyle that I signed myself up for. But there are benefits – awesome ones in terms of household chores, and even better ones in terms of family time: mornings and nights spent playing cards, watching movies, and discussing Indian and American culture and news.

Could I handle this extend family thing in the long-term? I don’t know. I can be prickly when things don’t meet my expectations, especially at home. I need my alone time, with the door closed, as much as I need air – like any other true introvert. I miss knowing exactly what the statuses of the fridge and pantry are, day and night. Right now it’s working, though, and that’s all that really matters.

I ended up thanking Baba again for cleaning up the house, and told him how much I appreciated his efforts. I do the same thing with Maa when she cooks a lovely dinner for us, or gives me a hand with clearing the table, or even passes me something out of my reach. Growing up, I was taught to thank family members for efforts made, large or small, and to always make requests with a “please”. Maa and Baba are accepting of this strange American quirk of mine.

We were originally going to name her “Gobi”, which means cauliflower in Hindi. However Maa vetoed that idea: she refuses to call the dog anything so silly. Which I’ll admit Gobi is – but it’s also pretty cute. So instead the pup gets the slightly more dignified unisex Hindi name of Kajol, which means kohl. Kohl is the heavy black eyeliner favored by many Indians, Arabs, emo kids, and Jack Sparrow. And, of course, our Kajol, whose eye markings I’ll be studying next time the eyeliner goes on.

We adopted her from the Virginia German Shepherd Rescue, and, folks, they do some amazing work there. Kajol was rescued from a pretty bad county shelter, where she’d developed kennel cough and gathered a zoo of parasites. She came to us perfectly healthy and well-socialized, though she has the slight separation anxiety you’d expect from a dog that has had so many changes in her life. She’s a real sweetie, though, eager to please and smart as a whip. We’re slowly learning more about each other – for instance, I’ve learned how she signals that she needs to use the outdoor facilities, and she’s learned that jumping onto our bed then starting to pee on it will get her a quick escort to the backyard. *grin* It’s all part of owning a dog – but the good here certainly outweighs the bad!

Aditya’s family has always had German Shepherd Dogs in India, and he’s even shown them in the ring, so he’s very comfortable working with Kajol. I’ve never had my own personal dog, but my family has had dogs (currently a massive golden lab named Bear), so I’m also pretty at ease with Kajol. Despite learning about dog ownership in such disparate cultures, we’ve come to a quick agreement about how to handle our pup. Actually, our knowledge bases are quite complementary: Aditya knows more about the age & breed-specific behaviors that Kajol exhibits (mouthiness and quickly figuring out our training tactics), while I can inform him about American-specific training techniques and pet supplies (crating, dog seatbelt harnesses, and Kong toys). We’ll be taking her to an obedience class later this summer once she’s become comfortable with our household and routines.

I’m sure you’ll be hearing plenty more about Kajol in the future, but it’s time for us to head to bed. I’ve got a sleeping dog who will be wanting her morning meal and walk bright & early tomorrow morning.