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July 11, 2008 / calebdresser

Born Again (Spoiled Rotten)

My life began a month ago, when I was delivered from the womb of a transient Airbus into the bustling hospital that is Indira Gandhi International Airport. Newborn that I was, my kind shepherds gave me nurture and transport and protection. Since then I have progressed much – I am now four years old! I listen when the adults are talking, and though I don’t always follow the thread of their conversation, it interests me and I can pick out some of the words. Thanks to the fortunes of my birth, they give me the trappings of a man – my own room, a desk, and a welcome at tea with the big people when they choose to partake. As with any polite child, whenever I am a visitor my efforts to praise the food and say please and thank you conjure warmth and smiles from my hosts.

I am the honored child of a well-regarded but absent family. Even when I knew less Hindi than the local dogs – at least they can come when called! – there was usually a servant or laborer eager to assist me. Now, coming into my wisdom and individuality as a preschooler with my own agenda and a firm grip on the words “me” and “no,” I am a dimunitive prince in a miniature kingdom. I play in the mud, growing a garden of little green rice plants… but mostly making a mess of my neatly pressed clothing. You thought I was going to grow up a bit overseas? HA!

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2 Comments

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  1. bengolas / Jul 11 2008 10:11 am

    Awww, they grow up so fast. If you get my pepperspray, I’m getting you soap.

  2. Lura / Jul 13 2008 3:45 am

    Hey Caleb, I just got back from CR and one of the first things I did was catch up on your blog. It’s enlightening to tag along on your experiences there from the comfort of my home after having been thrown into a strange but eye-opening environment myself. Keep writing often; you have a gift. I especially liked terror, from an Indian newstand I-III.
    all the best in your rice-tastic adventures,
    Lura

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