We were last here three weeks ago and now its completely disappeared.
The f**king house has gone?
What must the parents think?
It’s all my fault.
I’m gutted.
I wonder if a Bul Bul wonders and imagines.
Whatever I’m sorry.
For some ridiculous reason I thought once they’d used it and as the fledgling had fledged that was it, so I cleared the nest away, to help the gardener access the palm.
But no, Tanuja tells me they might have a second family in the same season and its true.
They’ve now had to build another and this time there are two eggs.
It is a safe place, I promise and I am so pleased that they’ve now returned, Manjula loved it each time they reappeared.
our Hindu house has a Pooja room, set up by MAnjula it’s still used for certain festivals. Other households would use it everyday. Our next festival is likely to be for the big rotund guy, my favourite: Ganesh.
No two houses are the same which might be due to the specific Gods, they worship, their caste or maybe just because India is incredibly consistently inconsistent.
In memory of MAnjula as with many households a photo, is placed in the hall (lounge/living room) when people die. For the first year we’d place flowers around her every month, with a special Pooja on her annual death anniversary. This all part of a series of rituals to help her soul spirit find another body and be reincarnated into her next life.
Tanuja at Manjula’s second death anniversary.
In our house there’s a main photo of MAnjula in each of our two lounges. Fact is there are photos of her everywhere. My son thinks The whole house is becoming a shrine.
Sowbaghya who did all the preparation, cooking, decoration for each of Manjula’s death anniversaries.
Now after two years I’ve decorated her like a Christmas tree with lights all around her.
Sometimes she’ll get a little extra treatment with red or yellow dots and we’ll do a little Pooja. It’s essentially a prayer with a request to god.
We’re flexi here.
Her pic is also found on the tree out the front of our house, T-shirt’s and masks her no 1 place is in my heart.
For me it’s especially important to acknowledge our being together and celebrate Manjula as many didn’t know about our relationship.
This is the fourth Bul Bul’s nest we’ve had at Moksha Manor.
Previously on the roof garden, our mid level garden out on the first floor mini garden and even in a hanging plant above our round table in the drive.
They’re good at nesting in the most unlikely places. This time they’ve chosen our secret garden in the back yard where we hang out the washing.
There’s been a gap of two years when they didn’t nest. The year Manjula died and following year.
Not only have they returned this year Sowbaghya spotted five adult birds all gathering to welcome the new babe.
We managed to photo two of them.
They must have realised it’s been a sad time but now returned to a place they’ve made their home. They know it’s safe and welcoming, not just for our human and four legged friends.
I wonder if English birds search out quiet, withdrawn locations. Here in India they have to manage the noise and general hecticness.
The virus situation goes from bad to — we’ve got rid of it, to —- disaster.
Leaving things until the eleventh hour, no … it’s more like one moment before midnight is not a sensible policy but it’s standard practice. No lessons learned from the first wave, infrastructure collapsing, shortage of beds, no oxygen in many hospitals, exhausted staff, people confused.
Indian politicians fail their communities. They have other, presumably more important things to worry about.
Now we have a lockdown in all but name and it’s piling confusion onto inconsistency onto chaos.
Is the instruction to close most businesses for all of everyday in which case it would be a lockdown or just when there’s a curfew?
The govt diktat is totally confusing. If it’s just overnight and weekends. What’s the point it’ll have minimal effect on the virus. If it’s everyday it’s a lock down a term they don’t politically wish to use.
The police statement adds to the confusion with the statement “it will be normal from tomorrow” so there will or will not be a lockdown/curfew from tomorrow. Of course it probably means that closure of businesses will seem like normal tomorrow.
Clear as mud.
It’s the day before the non-lockdown, I’m just back from cycling, with nobody wearing masks in the villages, most wearing them back in Siddarthanagar. I passed a wedding. In a field presumably outdoors (but in tents) in response to the situation but the limit to the gathering is supposed to be 50! There’s almost that number already preparing for the event and the guests are yet to arrive.
Recently Sowbhaghya asked why a shop keeper wasn’t wearing a mask as he should be, he declared there was no coronavirus here.
The combination of poor confusing communication from authority, default to deference and the anything goes attitude of the Wild West, is part of why we’re here.
Here’s useful guardian articles summarising how we might have got into this stupid situation.
I thought I’d share this after revealing to a new friend Anjali
We have a cup caste regime
From the left steel glass ( I know it’s not glass, just ask an Indian) can be used anywhere and everywhere. Middle, one of our favourite cups with emotional attachment so can only be used in upstairs hall (lounge for you foreigners) and number three can be used anywhere in the house or downstairs sit out as we care less. The most precious, heaps of history and irreplaceable so use is severely restricted.
The point is they can be used by anyone: guests, staff, family some are higher value so should be looked after more than others.
Why do I tell you this?
I joked about the caste of cups because believe it or not in some houses in India the servants aka lower caste are only allowed to drink or eat from separate cups/glasses/plates and utensils. This presumably originates from a belief that they might defile the superior caste.
I tell you this, as you know I love and I’ve adopted India and one wonderful woman in particular. We created a shared home that didn’t reflect those primitive traditional let’s say mediaeval practices.
Sowbhagya prepares the house, the Pooja room And finally all the Gods and Goddesses including MAnjula get a turn with a agarbati and flaming camphorLucie is sad, as she probably misses MAnjula doing the puja rituals.
It’s times like this we miss our closest. It’s also why they also remember us and send a love message.
This time the messenger came to my bedroom window. It’s probably why I felt out of sorts this morning.
We went to the vets again today as Lucie was sick a few times last week.
She loves her trips out in auto and ambassador.
She has problems with her liver and kidneys maybe due to Tick Fever she caught a year ago.
It’s a chronic condition, just medication to help her organs function but not cure.
It’s very serious.
We stocked up on specialist renal diet from Austria (!) and now two drugs, probiotics and two vitamins. It’s not cheap but who cares? I’ve been here before.
It’s been a difficult few years.
The ox fell off and lost his horns. But let’s no loose sight of the positive. The Bul Bul returns. This is the fourth time a Bul Bul has nested here. First on the roof, next on the middle level, then in the drive and now in our back yard. This made MAnjula so happy.
A MAnjula print — as we clearly don’t have enough already — from our first holiday in Hampi, the year we got engaged. Catherine has kindly donated a wonderful cabinet for Manjula’s library. Those with eagle eyes will have spotted one of our awards from Trip Advisor. We’ve been number one in Mysore, because of great guest reviews, since our first year. One of Manjula’s ‘I love you’ messengers never left. It was S/he’s last journey.
Me and MYCycle 