I can clearly recall the day when Umeo, our daughter, was born. We were both awake till midnight, and then Wakana went to bed first. I was still relaxed drawing illustrations. Suddenly she woke up, went to the bathroom, and came to me saying that there was a blood spot which was a sign that the “baby is ready”. We quickly went to the hospital as per the doctor’s instruction. As soon as we reached, she was taken to a delivery room, and I went to the reception for necessary paperwork. Being used to the Indian way of administrative work, we had already asked what we need at the time of admission, however, the receptionist told me to bring something else that they never mentioned earlier. Yes, this is what we had expected.....nothing is simple here. The doctor on duty told me that our baby wouldn’t be born so soon, and they would wait till morning, so I decided to go home and get the missing item.

　When I started walking towards home, I found very few people on the street unlike daytime. Suddenly, a pack of pie dogs which lived around the hospital started barking at me. It reminded me of a similar experience in Nepal where dogs chased me. I had to avoid any complications this time on the long-awaited day, so I went back to the main street and caught a cab. The driver seemed quite happy to find a passenger that late and was quite talkative. I was excited too, so I talked to him about how long we had stayed in Kolkata, that we are expecting a baby tomorrow, and so on. He said “When your baby is born, please give me your charity. I’ll be waiting for you near the hospital!” which was really surprising.

　When I came back to the hospital the guards at the gate were fast asleep. Somehow I made them wake up and let me in, and then I decided to wait in the lobby till the morning, maybe taking a nap. When I looked around the lobby, some more people were also sleeping. They seemed to be in a similar situation: fathers to be. I was impressed by them because they were prepared well enough to bring blankets and pillows, which were mismatched with the rather expensive hospital furniture, but their preparations were, indeed, very practical. As for me, I took a pile of papers as a pillow and spent a long and cold night,

　Even after sunrise, the doctor said that the baby would take some more time to come out, so I went home again as advised. I took a bath, had breakfast, emailed our families in Japan to inform them that the baby would be born soon, and came back to the hospital. As soon as I arrived at the hospital, the baby had apparently just been born. A public-address announcement asked me to go the delivery room upstairs. As I approached the room, I heard someone shouting and crying from inside, which was exquisite and a bit scary. I came to know later that it was a lady who was about to give a birth just after Wakana. I’d read somewhere that Indian women yell lustily at the time of delivery, and I found that it was true. Anyway, the responsible doctor came out from the room and asked me with a big smile “such a beautiful girl, would you like to see?”

　After all the necessary medical check-ups, the doctor brought out Umeo from the room. She was folded up in the white cloth and on a baby bed which looked like a crystal-clear edged jewelry showcase. She was really like a just-born baby, with amniotic fluid still on her face and hair. Suddenly she opened her eyes. I enjoyed poking her cheeks, but soon the doctor asked me “Okay?” and picked her up with one hand! Then, the doctor tossed her from her left hand to the right as if playing with beanbags, hoisted her up next to her shoulder, and then went back to the delivering room moving her right hand with Umeo up and down like exercising with dumbbells. Her back in a saree looked very tough. I came to know that we could handle a baby just as casually as she did and got relieved to be honest. I also thought that we were lucky having her as our doctor.

　It was also surprising to me that the “father” couldn’t really meet his baby until they get discharged. I could only see Umeo through a window during the limited visiting hours in early evening. Furthermore, since tens of babies are laid down in a line, it was quite tough finding out which one was Umeo. It looked like a kind of baby show, and then I came to understand why the baby beds were like showcases! Throughout the visitors’ hour, there was a crowd of Indian families around the nursery room to see babies, and that was the noisiest time in the day. If you looked at the corner of the nursery room, you’d find babies under blue light who were receiving ray treatments. The blue light made me feel as if I was in an aquarium.

　 
　Well, once Wakana and Umeo got discharged and came back home, our new life style began. What confused us initially was who to trust and depend on regarding raising a child. We wanted advice from someone experienced about foods for breast-feeding mothers and how to treat a newborn. Our parents gave up on flying to India due to a series of terrorist attacks at that time. (Well, I understand how they felt about the country which is far away from Japan and they had never been to.) So, we studied from books which our friends had sent and information from the internet. We soon came to realize and were amazed at how varied the advices on child rearing are! There were a million different backgrounds and beliefs as well as techniques, which left us really confused.

　Eventually we decided to make up our own methods, which made sense to us. We referred to book cuttings and integrated those tips. In the end, it was good that we had the chance to observe Umeo, think and decide for ourselves.

　However, there were certain instructions from the doctor which were uncomfortable but had to be followed. One of those was that Wakana had to take dairy products adding up to “one liter a day” as a lactating mother. (Well, this was since she got pregnant though.) I gave her half of that quota as milk and the rest as home made yogurt, trying to believe that this was a good idea. I tried to leave aside the idea commonly held in Japan that too much dairy intake causes allergy in babies. But still, I felt really weird, to be honest, living with someone who takes this much of another animal’s milk every day! Then why did I keep preparing it for her? That’s because I wanted to maintain good relationship with the doctor. In spite of my concerns, Wakana didn’t seem to have any difficulties with her daily dairy routine. (That’s also amazing!)

　On the other hand, it was good that we could deepen our friendship with Bengali families throughout the period. They happily taught us about good foods for breast milk, Bengali way of child rearing, and tips for dealing with the baby. Thankfully, people have visited us to see Umeo, and I observed that Bengali people, even the young, were good at handling a baby. Moreover, they never created an atmosphere of discomfort out of politeness and formality. Before, I used to find Bengali people sometimes too friendly or meddlesome. In case of child rearing, they never forced on us their own ways, but just introduced them to us as common beliefs. Happily, we found no discrepancy between most of their advices with our original ways.

　In Kolkata, people seem to prefer caesarian sections to normal delivery. At least the middle class thinks that the labor should take place in a hospital environment. It could be said that delivery is carried out within a “medical” framework, but the culture practiced at home feels as natural as if it were air. This is probably because of the ease with which Indian families integrate several generations into the event of a new birth – both the elderly and the young participate with eagerness, and the traditional knowledge passes from one generation to the next, unnoticed. When I look at Japanese society in this regard, I find this inter-generational contact lacking, so that young parents have to resort to books and the internet to glean this knowledge.

　As I had been doing earlier, I started cooking for Wakana as soon as she got discharged. If you go through Japanese parenting books, they usually suggest that new mothers have simple Japanese foods, which are supposed to be good for breast milk, but I used to use local spices here. , I used more oil and spices compared to light Japanese meals, but there was no problem in breast-feeding; the positive effects of the spices might have worked well for her body. I preferred this kind of home-cooking with what was locally available. To prepare Japanese foods in Kolkata, you had to import many things.

I like to try and adjust to local practices and manners as much as possible if I live in a different place for a certain period of time, even if its lifestyle is quite different from mine. In Kolkata, some cultural differences were bewildering, for example a sudden visit by Hijra’s to our home and the practice of distributing sweets (we made do with Japanese sweets brought as souvenirs when we didn’t have enough time to buy proper sweets). However, we gained lots of rich information and enjoyed them. It actually made our days in Kolkata more interesting and safe as a result. Through Umeo’s birth, I re-realized such a simple thing.