Category: Manjula’s Story

Ina

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Meet a wonderful friend.

To both Manjula and I.

Again and again

Ina with Sowbaghya and between them my very own wonderfulness

Ina visited us again this year to become ‘part of the furniture’. It was her tenth anniversary of visiting us.

We celebrated Manjula’s birthday with friends, visited Bylakuppe and Dorjee the monk, (the Tibetan who she sponsored as a child), and Ina got to know and appreciate our burgeoning Kaveri.

Photo from John Small

She left us after a month’s stay to go back home and visit family and friends in Singapore.

Photo from SB

I learned this morning that Ina died last night and her spirit joins her great friend Manjula’s on their next journey.

Photo from Vasanth
From Sowbaghya and with Satish and John

I’ll dive into my photos and post again with memories of Manjula and Ina together.

Five years ago

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A light wavered.

It didn’t go out as she’s very much with me.

Todays Pooja

Today on the fifth anniversary of losing her —- physically yes —- but not in any other way.

We remember Manjula

A meal is prepared including all her favourite things.

A packet has to be freshly opened as ‘leftovers’ are not acceptable.

We offer it to her and by praying to her God we help her spirit find her way to the next incarnation.

Flower power

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Manjula adored her flowers.

She …..

…… would thread the garlands since a child to supplement any income.

…… Loved the jasmine growing on our roof and in the drive.

But she saved a special place in her heart for what’s locally called Brahma Kamla but strictly speaking it’s ‘queen of the night’.

She’d excitedly spot the new buds coming through and accurately predict which night it would blossom.

On that night we’d open the back door and be hit by the overpowering aroma. It would be gone by morning

After she died, four years ago, the flowers didn’t appear until this year. Sowbaghya spotted a bud. It’ll flower as we approach what would have been her 50th birthday.

The flower is now featured on a tattoo on my shoulder and in a portrait of Manjula in our upstairs hall (lounge).

Check this out.

Impossible decisions in life

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I’ve just read an article about CPR which helps clarify the situation Manjula and I were in almost exactly two years ago.

Manjula had a heart attack on the Friday evening and she’d had CPR or cardiopulmonary resuscitation to bring her back to life. On the Saturday morning she had another heart attack. I was asked whether we wanted Manjula to be resuscitated. I believe she didn’t but it is and will be the hardest decision of my life.

To this day I still don’t know and it hangs over me.

I wish I’d been able to discuss it properly with Manjula so that it was her decision so that it would be clearer that she didn’t want CPR.

Here’s a quote from the article

“… we need to explain that CPR means something very specific. It is the term we use for chest compressions and electric shocks to a heart that has stopped beating – and is reserved exclusively for someone who has already suffered a cardiac arrest. In a sense, the patient has already died: we are trying our hardest to resurrect them.

A “do not attempt CPR” order does not mean we make no attempt to prolong a patient’s life. All manner of other treatments may well be appropriate, such as fluids, antibiotics, admission to hospital, or even treatment in an intensive care unit. The only thing ruled out is chest compressions and shocks to the heart.

Like every other medical treatment – from chemotherapy to major surgery, and transplants to antibiotics – CPR has harms as well as benefits. Resuscitation is an ugly, aggressive and often traumatic treatment. Only in around 10% of cases does all the effort reap rewards. It is nothing like what you see on TV. Too often, the heart cannot be restarted and all we achieve is a cacophony of alarms, wires, shocks and needles in place of dignified dying.

Even if the patient’s pulse is restored, there is a risk their cardiac arrest may leave them profoundly brain damaged.”

I will cover this properly in our story.

Publish and be damned – a plan is forming.

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Five things lead to a plan

First, a cow peed on the Rangoli.

Missing Manjula. Second Christmas and birthday without her

Next, a dragonfly flew into the hall, circled me and landed on Manjula’s penant that we bought on holiday in the U.K.
Immediately afterwards, a sepia coloured butterfly as a few days earlier also kept circling me.
Some believe that Dragonflies and Butterflies are messengers of love from your dearly departed.

At today’s writers group a presentation from editor Karthika helped clarify what is possible.

I’ve committed to Manjula to write our story with a working title of Full Full. I’ve completed the first draft of many and feels like I’m building the Taj Mahal out of matchsticks. This will take sometime.

Target date March 2022 to complete story

Launch book by August 2022 on what would have been Manjula’s 49th Birthday

Identify Editor, First Readers, Community Publisher advisor,

Create 2000 person mailing list and feature blog posts to help create interest.

Self publish POD and E book with 1000 sale target

Available in Hebden Bridge U.K. and silverfish (mysore) local bookshops.

Next: consider… additional chapters, Children’s book, Online interactive version

Non work station notebooks and printed draft. I have a fountain pen and blank paper. I must be a writer.

Missing my love.

Why write to Manjula?

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Thank you for your kind responses via messages, phone calls, Facebook and here on this site, to my two letters. It’s been important for me to share and feel your support.

In passing through the grief portal of pain to love, to understand and know Manjula better. I’ve found a few useful books.

The letter to Manjula was me talking to her to recognise my loss, and share with her, my remorse which I wasn’t able to before she died. It’s part of a process outlined in the grief handbook the book on top of the pile.

Is the latest I read, especially useful as there was a distinct loss of meaning and still is to an extent.

I’ve maybe written the letter a dozen times but it’s only now I’ve felt able to share it with her. In therapeutic groups or pairs they’ll often read their letter out to each other.

It’s quite interesting to shift from focussing on her body/ego to her soul spirit wherever that might now be.

It’s been quite a journey from the devastation I felt through to recognising my absolute love and devotion to Manjula. There’s now more sweet and less bitter and my first thought is now more likely to bring a smile, than a tear.

I now know her better, partly as I’m researching and writing our story.

Meanwhile Mysore comes back to life. There’s been an unlocking. Here’s a few shots from our morning walk

Taking home a palm branch for his fire.
Any opportunity to sell and survive
Lucie in our park after today’s walk. Determined to keep away from me and entice ticks.
Ha ha this one isn’t from our walk 🙂 it’s one of Manjula’s favourite flowers and now a tattoo.

New beginnings are disguised as painful ends

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It’s late at night and the page is blank so I turn to Laozi and Pooh bear.

Actually that’s not true. I turn to you…… to help me get the ball rolling, to create and share my and Manjula’s story. It’s the age old writer’s conundrum. As you see I have a pile of full notebooks but how to get the blank page filled to begin to start the actual story. Can you help?

If you know Manjula and I or even if you don’t 🙃 what’s the key ingredients of our story that might interest you or a wider audience. What are the main themes that will interest people?

Finding Meaning

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I’m reading the book about finding meaning: the sixth stage of grief. I’m writing notes as Kessler talks about “the secret to remembering with love begins with accepting the pain not trying to deny it or ignore it….. love is on the other side of pain”

I’m reflecting on how I’ve managed this over the last year. As I write this I’m gently crying, sniffling just a little bit. Lucie looks up, stares with her sad brown eyes and squeals as if to draw my attention. I think she knows what’s happening and wants to comfort me. So we have a stroke for support.

At that very moment a black and orange butterfly flies into the balcony with a message: Manjula did feel my love and would have always known it was present.