Visiting the Grandparents

This summer’s journey began with a visit to my Mother’s family in Los Angeles. Most everyone is here: my grandparents, an aunt and an uncle, though my most favorite aunt lives in Mesa. I have always hated family gatherings—unsolicited advice, too much food and just out right control of not only the activities, but my hair, make up and attire.

They keep their home as much like they did in India as possible: traditional, functional and economical. My grandmother is the queen of bargain shopping. She is well known at the Food for Less as the sweet old lady who will return a half used jar of mayonnaise if it goes bad before the date printed on the lid. She counts every penny and every dollar—and never spends more than she has to spend. Her love for Wal-Mart, K-Mart and dollar stores are apparent in her twinkling eyes. Nothing is prettier than her granddaughter, at the Dollar Store in full salwar kameez, gold jewelry, and long black braid purchasing the industrial size joy dish soap for $1.

The mornings are predictable; for as long as I could remember, my grandfather would use the facilities upon completion of his morning meditation at 6:45am, and then again for 45 minutes at 8:30am. You could set the atomic clock against his biological clock. The bathroom is as close to how it was in India. There is a 3-gallon size bucket in the tub, accompanied by a smaller jug. In India, you only get a set number of liters of water per week, and so, the water had to be used judicially, not very many people are having long hot showers stemming from a well pressurized shower-head providing a constant flow of water.

Here, I wake at 5:30am, and I rush to the bathroom to finish my “bathroom duties” as my grandfather refers to them, before he knocks on the door to kick me out. In just two days, I have taken by bucket baths from 3 gallons of water to 2 and I have been successful in thwarting all efforts of getting even more food into my body.