The Museum of Fine Arts in Boston opened their doors with a special open house today to celebrate Memorial Day. They had activities through out the museum for the children that I had read about, particularly an art project where children could do a pencil drawing imitating small Indian art works and those drawings could be filled in with water color pencils and turned into a painting. It seemed perfect, a chance to have fun, learn and celebrate Kajal's cultural identity.

The day was better than I could have hoped for. Kajal was fascinated by the artwork through out the museum. A few nights ago I'd started night time stories of individuals in India who have changed the world for the better, Buddha, Ghandi, Ammachi. She loves hearing the stories and was curious to see some of the massive Buddha's on exhibit at the museum. She practically ran into the museum and danced and slid her way down the marble corridors. She recognized Van gogh's work (from her art class) and gazed at Monet's famed Water Lillies. We talked about light and beauty. In the Grand Hall of Masters she gazed with fascination at the religious paintings asking me countless questions... who were the 'bad guy's', was that Jesus? Who were the angels and what were they doing? Her curiosity was incredible. I showed her Sargeants works and we wondered about the people whose portraits he painted.

When we came to the Indian corridor she took her work very seriously. She studied about twenty paintings before deciding to paint the portrait of an Indian woman. As she painted, she decided the painting was of her and her work was so precious and perfect.

Most children walked around the museum with dazed and bored looks on their faces or curled up in the hallway corners sleeping while their parents gazed at the art work around them. Not my baby, she was pushing people out of the way to get up close to Renoir's work and it took all her control not to reach out and touch every last painting.

We sat in the famed Japanese garden where I gave her a small heart necklace (to remind me that you love me mom, right?) and she wrote in her new journal that we got in the store (I couldn't resist, she picked one with the picture of an Indian girl on the cover, bindi and all) as we left the garden we read the name of the space on the stone wall, 'the garden of the hearts of heaven' she held her new heart necklace and smiled at me. It couldn't have been more appropriate.

For so long Kajal referred to India in only one place, as a place that is full of danger, that 'hurts' it's children. Slowly, I'm seeing her begin to embrace herself as a child of India and the culture as something more than a painful memory. I see her curiosity and her awareness that perhaps India has mysteries and gifts worth exploring.