With friends (where are the women?) photo album, portrait, garden and cut out board.
Thank you to Karan, Anjali and with help from Aaditya and other students at CAVA Art College.
Did you spot the two women? Our commemoration will continue and more will visit this week.
It’s all go..
We use any and every opportunity to recognise and remember, what would have been Manjula’s 48th Birthday is extra special.
On monday afternoon, 23rd August (postponed from Saturday due to a curfew) we have open-house for friends to drop-in for a drink and cake or sweets, to visit the garden we’ve just planted, see Manjula’s two painted portraits and have a chat.
Today Manjula would have been 48 and it’s yet another reason to celebrate and thank her for the time we were together (we still are).
Manjula sent messages with her love and for me to know all is well on her soul’s journey to her new life. She’s most definitely not a ‘hungry ghost’.
Here’s a video message from my love. Previously we’ve also heard from her via messengers
We’ve done a few things that Manjula would like and maybe make her giggle. Like the remembering garden. we’ve just planted in the park opposite our house.
She’s left audio and video recordings which I’m using to help write our story. We’ll release some of the videos in 2022
So what’s a hungry ghost? One of the tales that will be featured in our story, to be published before we reach what would have been her 50th birthday.
Creating a garden for MAnjula
There’s been two sorts of reactions to the garden which might provide some insights into people’s view of life, more later.
My friend Zetta posted about a funeral today Where they played: How long will I love you? Sung by Ellie Goulding. So I listened to it
Today, before a small piano concert at a friends house here in Mysore I was introducing Manjula to a few more people.
Yes, I’ll introduce Manjula anywhere and everywhere. I was talking about the new garden we were creating to help celebrate her.
I explained that it’s over two years ago that she died, sometimes that feels a long time ago, others as if it was yesterday.
I know there is no limit to my unconditional everlasting love and liked the song.
…
How long will I love you?
As long as stars are above you
And longer if I can
How long will I need you?
As long as the seasons need to
Follow their plan
How long will I be with you?
As long as the sea is bound to
Wash up on the sand
How long will I want you?
As long as you want me to
And longer by far
How long will I hold you?
As long as your father told you
As long as you can
How long will I give to you?
As long as I live through you
However long you say
How long will I love you?
As long as stars are above you
And longer if I may
How long will I love you?
As long as stars are above you
Yes, it’s forever, in this life and any others. 🌞
I’m meandering locally.
These guys will have bought their flowers but you can begin to realise why people scour the area to nick flowers in the morning.
The old man went to yoga at 6.30 am on Wednesday only to discover start time had shifted to 6.00am
Doh
He went out today, saturday, up early at 5.00 so as not to mess up.
“I’m sitting in the yoga room all on my own, by 6.00 at 6.30 the receptionist comes in to say there no yoga as there’s a curfew. “
Double Doh
Back at home SB has already arrived due to the curfew and reminded me that we’d discussed it yesterday.
I give in, my idiocy evolves to decrepitude.
So why was the gym open?
Life is so confusing.
Don’t consider Tanuja and I to be sensible shoppers.
If our trip to the nursery is anything to go by, we’re the sort to go to the supermarket for staples and come back with puddings, the exotic rather than the plain, the icing while neglecting the cake.
We’ve got a great selection of flowers but our eyes were distracted by the shapely coloured and aromatic roses.
The problem is, as we knew, but didn’t care, they’re not a lot of use for the new Manjula’s garden in the park.
Why? you might ask.
Because people pick the flowers in the morning for their puja rituals.
So I thought I’d create a mini rose garden inside our gate.
I wish I’d done it for Manjula a few years ago as she would have loved it.
I started writing this post in a light-hearted jokiness way, only to realise this…..
Clearly these people haven’t any thought that the flowers are there for the enjoyment of all, rather than the selfish ritualistic needs of a few.
We’ve yet to plant out our flowers in Manjula’s garden and I seriously wonder if any of the flowers will survive, if I don’t employ a 24/7 guard.
It’s even worse with the roses in the next park. They are carefully nurtured by the gardeners but people go in and steal the whole plant.
We need some English old fashioned park signs ‘don’t pick the flowers.’
Another case for the missing dharma detective.
Mysore’s magic continues to show itself in special ways.
lunch in Indra Paras Hotel where the owners and staff were happy to see me and surprised I’d been in Mysore all this time.
The hotel owner thought I’d put on weight, so I blamed the pandemic and not the cream cakes from Sapa. Might have to hit that on the head though.
MAnjula’ bench (no 4) at my favourite museum in the old House used by the British after the fourth war of Mysore in 1799. It’s-now complete with sleeping Buddha.
Our local shopkeeper wondered why I was so red, it’s hanging out in the park vaguely directing the garden creation, with very little actual work.
Me and MYCycle 