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.
It’s 58 minutes, with two minutes to go. The Englishman likes to be on time and a little early.
Tea is made and in my favourite ‘cranky old guys rule’ mug. Lucie’s medicines given, computer switched on, air bud things in my ear, matched to the comp Bluetooth, WiFi working ok. Check, quick splash of the face ooooh forgot my treat, a doughnut from SAPA bakery.
I’m sorted.
Redrafted structure of our story sent to Pam yesterday for discussion today.
We’re ready to roll.
Except woooooooooo I’m exactly one hour early the meeting is at 11.00 not 10.00!
Idiot.
I’ll now spend a few moments reflecting in the present. It’s a new thing I learned from Madam
Is this early onset of, you know A……., over excitement to dive into the ‘Labour of Love’ unlikely as I have to constantly deal with being taken over by ‘idle-ous-ness and lethargy’ combined (it’s in the air and not a new thing).
Or have I just lost it? Probably.
I’ll have to wait.
Doughnut now or later is my biggest current challenge.
She experienced unkindness throughout her life, yet always and especially in the last nine years was the most kind.
MAnjula continues to give
Kulfi for the cleaners. They used to work on our street, knew us and would stop for water, chai and chat (that’s talking not snacks).
Our fine house was a place of support and conversation for women and not just our guests. Manjula’s networks. We’ve continued to support our drivers and they’ve joined the Manjula Mask Movement.
Vasanth and Satish modelling our mycycle masks but the big favourite is …the one where Manjula seems to be sniggering and who years before the pandemic was telling us to mask-up, modelled by Rakesh aka Peter PanAnd masks have been donated for the vaccinators for when they finish work. Many cycles have been gifted here for Sowbhaghya’s son Naveen.
Already people are beginning to help. There’s an appeal here or Manjula and I will be making a direct donation. Contact me if you wish to join in, tours@mycycle.co
My good friend Brian, who has a cameo appearance in my short story ‘looking for a home’ also sent a kind thoughtful poem on Manjula’s second death anniversary.
Sowbaghya and I visited the home for elders to sponsor their meals on the 23rd March on the anniversary of Manjula’s soul flying away.
It was a hoot. SB and I misplaced each other before arriving. Then there was the checking Aadhaar (ID) cards, completing the receipt, and at the last moment remembering to write to confirm it was in Manjula’s remembrance.
The guys remembered and others joined in recalling me cycling in the grounds with the giant picture of MAnjula, a year ago on the anniversary of her death.
I promised to return for her birthday in August. We all laughed and joked, very entertaining but I wonder what they really think.
Sowbaghya is preparing for today’s memories of Manjula.
Me and MYCycle 