A YIndian, Yorkshire by birth and Indian by marriage. Originally from the UK, I've now lived in Mysore, South India for over ten years with my beautiful wife Manjula. MeandMycycle is about the ups, downs and ups of our life in Mysore and our creations: Mysore Bed and Breakfast and MyCycle Tours.
Mysore’s magic continues to show itself in special ways.
The party girls out and about after my early morning yoga. shopping with Tanuja for the new garden
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.
and more gardening back at home, with other people randomly helping our gardener …
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.
Manjula had some beautiful shoes but her feet were so tiny finding someone they would fit was a real challenge.
Well I’ve found another Cinderella, or at least a lovely young woman who also has teeny feet.
It’s so fitting (ha ha) that the artist who has connected so well with MAnjula and now painted two beautiful portraits should be the one to take her shoes.
I’m so pleased to find this happy solution.
Farrell Factoid
It’s taken two years as most Indian women don’t have such teeny feet.
My feet are also quite small at six and a half, not that anyone has ever offered me small shoes. 🤭
It was such a characterful portrait of beautiful Manjula. The enigmatic artist knows MAnjula, connected and found her spirit.
I just had to have another.
I may seem greedy but I just can’t get enough of MAnjula (you may have worked that out) and especially how Priyanka brings out many facets of my beautiful wife.
There’s even more significant detail to explore in this one.
P was guided by a photograph from shortly after we were engaged in 2015
I’m now coming to the end of draft three of our story. There’s still a loooong way to go but thought I’d share something.
As a Hindu Manjula believed in reincarnation so it’s one area I’ve researched and found incredibly interesting.
For more details from me you’ll need to wait for the book or in the meantime check some of the resources I’ve listed here. The books are available in Manjula’s library.
I’d gone into the city for one of the endless visits to the city corporation (more of that later) then diverted to buy flowers in the Market. These will traditionally float in water in the brass Urli bowl beneath Madam’s photo and garland to go the photos themselves in each of our two halls (aka lounge or living room).
In the city were so many local women in sari’s going about their business, it reminded me of Manjula and how she connected me to so many aspects of life here. It brought a tear to my eye, not that that’s unusual.
I’d passed the iconic Lansdown building that has now been waiting years for a decision of whether they will renovate or demolish and rebuild. There’s no prize for guessing which the politicians in cahoots with the developers would prefer and why.
Lansdown Building
Then the day began to turn.
Not the hotel, it’s another angle of the Lansdown building.
I went to a favourite ‘hotel’ (aka cafe) the Indra Paras, the owners son, manning the cash desk and the waiters all recognised and acknowledged me, creating a good feeling as I ate my Masala Dosa and Sev Dahi Potato Puri (crispy hollow puri balls, filled with a mix of crunchy, yoghurt, potato and a tinge of sweet) another favourite.
Then I squeezed past the guys selling clothing and material on the pavement and round the corner to the fruit salad, ice cream and traditional juices shop for my regular sarsaparilla and soda. Again the guys at the shop all asked how I’d been and wondered if I’d just come back. No I’ve been at home here in Mysore for two years, gifting me another warm vibe.
Then the usual, trying to find an auto with a working meter, after rejecting one and hanging about aimlessly by the roadside a guy hailed my as his friend stepped out from sharing the front bench seat.
The driver knew me, and Vasanth, and had taken many of our guests back home to the BnB. He’s friend couldn’t quite place me.
“It’s the cycle man”
I’m nothing to do with this which, just happened to be there, and represents the usual Indian randomness
So I pulled down my mask and he remembered me from nine years before when Vinay and I had started the cycle tours and he knew of our base at the Palace Plaza Hotel.
So a bittersweet mix, of missing Manjula and realising how she critically helped me adjust to my adopted city through re-connecting with people and sharing memories.
Last night I completed chapter eight of our story Full Full (working title), of draft three (with many more to come) it was particularly difficult to work on, as it related the story of her last year. In some ways it also helped.
This morning I was outside our house, sitting on a stone slab bench, beneath our wonderful strong shading tree. I was waiting for my neighbour, for our morning cycle.
A friend came along
It was a messenger from Manjula to reveal she knew what I was doing, supported me and sent her love.
It’s a red eye butterfly. It continued with me for over six kilometres, as I cycled Another messenger from MAnjula
With critical timing.
On Facebook this MAnjula Memory popped up from our last visit to England four years ago.
I’ve had a few messengers now.
Equally impressive was the circling dragonfly and even pretty moths get in on the act.
Me and MYCycle 