Just two weeks ago I approached the City Corporation for permission to site the garden, the permission letter is ‘in the post.’ 🙃
Manjula’s Garden
Category: Manjula Gives
writing our story
is proving to be quite a challenge, partly as there is a
“paradox at the heart of the enterprise, the inevitable tension between the distance required for apprehension — for a perspective to emerge in which events can find their proper place — and the pressured immediacy of vivid narrative.” from The Art of Time in Memoir by Sven Birkets.
It’s telling a story when the trauma, the wound of: Manjula’s death, the circumstances leading up to it, the wider context and my powerlessness to act on what was happening is still very much with me and therefore makes it harsh and tender by turns. It’s necessary but hard, so the telling of the tale doesn’t progress at a speed or in ways that I’d like..
It’s about knowing when to focus-in the lens and when to pull back, with both “experience tasted and experience digested.”
In addition, I’m having to write in proper English with the handicap that I’m from Yorkshire.
Manjula, still with me, gently sighs, as she’s seen it all before.
Who did this remind me of?
Sowbhagya says when I feel sad and I come here I feel so happy.
This book shares what MAnjula and I thought and reflects what we wanted in our home and life.
Thank you MAnjula.
This book is now in Manjula’s library.
We celebrate Manjula and our coming together
I like
“A pair of silver anklets poured out. He lifted them against the cheek of the evening sky and he shook them to unspool their rhythmic zhan-zhan-zhan. ‘Take them with you,’ was all she said. Years later he realised what she had really given him. The sound of her feet. The preface to her movements.
As I’m now officially a writer. Ha ha. Well I have pen and a blank sheet of paper.
I spend time reading with two perspectives: firstly as the reader, I always was, appreciating the journey I’m being taken on and secondly realising more about how the writer has created and revealed their story.
I quote another book to help reveal why I like the one above.
“This feeling resonated in me. It was the resonance that had lingered on, exactly as it does when the last page is turned of a book which reaches the heart.”
I want Manjula and my story to reach the heart as it did for me.
What…
is this?
Can we have a garden please?
I now have to find help to create the bed and plant the plants.
Manjula’s garden will be between the two stone benches at the top end of our park.
Manjula my beautiful Muse
I now know what muse (moose) means.
Aadrika the immensely talented artist who created this wonderful portrait of the women in my life visited with Somesh and his six year old daughter Ritu (check her own art here) to photograph the painting so we can have prints made for some of our friends around the world. Whoopeee!
Magnanimous MAnjula
It’s one of those wishing differently days so great to announce more of Manjula’s gifts.
Manjula gave gifts to Divya, Naveen, Tanuja and Jossica.
Manjula’s Messengers
Today’s messenger rest on a branch of the tree across from my balcony, repeatedly flies away and returns. Sometimes it’s still, at others its chuntering or maybe chewing.
The dragonfly arrives as I’m writing about how we first met to be submitted for a literary competition. I’m happy that this messenger is a reminder that she’s still with me and loves me. It’s taken up residence on the branch. Lucie’s walk will have to wait.
The dragonfly leaves to be replaced by a butterfly flying to me on the balcony.
A few weeks ago, I complained to Manjula that I’d not heard from her. Within days a dragonfly maybe ten times bigger flew into the downstairs hall, circled me three times and landed on Manjula’s pennant.
They get everywhere. Thank you Manjula
Me and MYCycle 