Niranjana speaks

We were beginning to wonder if Niranjana would ever talk to us without the orphanage folks around. On Saturday evening, Melissa made a huge breakthrough with her, getting her to recite the alphabet and her numbers through 19. Hearing her tiny voice could stop traffic in this huge, gritty city.

Melissa also managed to have her sing "This is the Day" all by herself. And best of all, she'll say "Mommy" and "Daddy" when handed a photo of us. That's enough to melt my heart.

Let's be honest here, folks. Did any of us really think I would be writing about all the cute things a little girl would do? Yes? Well, it's a surprise to me. I gave my heart to Niranjana last October, the first time I saw her photo in the packet from the adoption agency. Now, as we gaze at (and electronically capture) her every move, I am completely, unabashedly smitten. I expected it, I supposed, but I didn't anticipate falling for her quite so hard.

We've spent much of the past two days on the move. On Saturday, we visited several temples along the beach south of Chennai, then yesterday it was to some more temples that are inland. If I were a typical tourist, I'd probably care more about what we're seeing. I'm here for one purpose, and my mind tends to drift away from whatever the guide is saying and toward our little girl.

It often takes more than an hour to get wherever we're going. I am fascinated with the traffic, especially when we see a typical-size city bus filled with maybe 100 people and a motorcycle with five people on it (including a mother holding two toddlers and keeping herself balanced at the same time as her husband weaves through traffic at 100 kph). At one point, I counted 14 vehicles abreast on a three-lane divided highway. Ten of them were motorcylces and scooters, and three were cars and trucks. Surprisingly, we've seen no accidents - or even the evidence of one.

Car seats? Forget about it. They don't exist here. We just hold onto Niranjana, wrapping her in our protective arms. We were horrified the first time we had to get into a car with her and there was no car seat. We've slowly accepted the fact that we won't get anywhere with her if we are to wait for a car seat. Undoubtedly, we will look back on this in a few months and be horrified once again.

As I gaze out the window of our little SUV, I catch myself glancing at Indian women, wondering what Niranjana will look like when she is older. Almost universally, Indian women are intensly beautiful, regardless of age. They have dark, long hair and a range of skin tones. Niranjana is light-complected compared with most Indians in Chennai. In the Tri-Cities, most will think she's Hispanic.

Today, Melissa takes Niranjana on her first shopping spree (gotta instill this habit early, I suppose), then we meet with Kamala to visit the baby orphanage where Niranjana spent her first year and pick up her Indian passport and American visa.

Tomorrow, she comes home.