The old man has managed to send money from his bank account to pay for a book by something called UPI should I be proud or ashamed?
Maybe the shave helped.
It’s taken ages and I mean months to work it out. I think I need a lie down before I advance to QR Code.
The big fella is out and about with his mum Gowrie
Later in the week we’ll do the usual puja and a few days later immerse him in the river Kaveri.
I am getting a bit attached although we do already have at least five Ganesh’s in the house plus the two we’re looking after for Steven Heath.
It’s bicycle repairman.
Out cycling this morning with Veerendra we got a puncture. The roadside bicycle repairman can still be found.
No sooner had we left than the next customer arrived on his motorbike.
To our flexible repairman.
A great example of life in India.
and a Sun with a beard
with thanks to Desai Somesh, Rita’s dad who took the photographs.
A week after Manjula’s birthday celebration (which I recognise is actually a bit weird) I’m in one of the strangest periods I’ve ever had in ten years living in Mysore. …. and I’ve had some seriously off times. Maybe more than in the previous fifty years (I’m now 64) before moving to India.
I’ve shared some of my most challenging times as they related to losing Manjula. This one is about engaging with the unforgiving unfathomable system.
I’ll have to get out of this particular dark tunnel where there is no light before I’m able to share much more.
….. other things, today.
I’m just back from yoga class where I’d hoped for a bit more distraction.
Next, Lucie and I go out for a walk. I completely failed her yesterday with just one short joint walk late in the day as I was dealing with a whirlpool of mayhem. Thankfully Sowbaghya was here to help and both Satish and Vasanth took her rides in their autos.
Nicely arranged with flowers and plants and on top of grinding stone from the village.
My new daily ritual is to reach into Manjula’s Claris (gift from a guest, maybe Christine) bag of coins for ten rupees to pay for this morning chai.
Thoughtful as ever Manjula provides my morning tea.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Me and MYCycle 