All these arrival are especially important as we’re missing real life people coming to stay with us.
Manjula and I had our first wedding, the official one in the government office where they exchange contracts on immovable objects. We are undoubtedly immovable objects.
I was age 60 before I got married so there was a big build up and it took some time to move in that direction.
three days later we celebrated and married again in a field
As they would say in Monty Python’s ‘Life of Brian’
Well I’ve had a few after complaining to Manjula that I’d failed to notice any.
The first major happening was the message delivered by the Dragonfly. I’d hinted enough, not least by having one tattooed onto my shoulder.
She came through, on that one.
Today a brick fell off the wall. This thick one knocked it onto the ground and it broke.
It’s a sign.
So what’s the meaning of this sign? erm…..
Manjula is pissed off with me for not sending a Valentine’s Day message. So she threw the brick at me.
She’s actually gone. As we approach our third wedding anniversary and shortly afterwards the date she slipped through my stubby fingers two sorrowful years ago. Maybe it’s a sign that her soul spirit has found a new home and been reincarnated. It’s a realisation that our attempts to help her move on have worked.
And maybe it’s a crumbling of the wall that’s hemming me in.
Whatever I’ll look on the bright side as this is part of my journey to learn from life’s challenges and realise something or other.
and of course, no matter what she’s still with me….
An open mic event at Dreamers Cafe in Mysore great young audience entertained with poetry, singing, guitar, flute, jokes and storytelling.
My very first appearance at an open mic.
Lucie and I are missing the people. The busy household, constant comings and going’s, the jokes, the kindness and our queen.
This helps replace some of the missing energy. Great evening, wonderful people, well organised.
More info: sally
We’re nearly there and will reveal the beautiful new painting of Manjula and Lucie on the 25th December.
It’s the one day of the year when we wash our cars, cycles, motorbikes and tools, to then ask the Gods to bless them. Originally a Pooja for our weapons!
It’s the penultimate day of our big annual festival (Dasra or Dusshera). Commemorating the goddess Chamundeshwari (lives on the hill behind our house), killing the demon, after which Mysore is named.
Sowbhagyhya has already instructed me to wash my Enfield, Ambassador and Specialized. She’s now done the full on Pooja.
we say Happy Ayudhapuja!
Sowbhagya arrived with Dosa for her breakfast. The dining table was converted to one of my four workstations but she managed to find space. She was trapped but I blame her. She did show interest. So I launched into the synopsis of Manjula and my story, written for Anita.
SB was immediately engaged and liked it. We both enthusiastically remembered Manjula: her character, her kindness, her fun. SB could see connections with her and other women’s experiences but also how she was especially adventurous, strong and independent in the face of so many challenges.
Last Saturday was the first session of Anita’s Attic. A programme for writers — yes, that’s me, officially a writer, of sorts — over the next twelve weeks.
There’s ten of us in the online group: taught, facilitated and mentored by Anita Nair.
Anita is a famous writer of English novels, here in India. My own favourite is Ladies Coupe and I hope that our story will feature similar expansive characters to help us discover more of India and wonderful people I’ve been fortunate to meet.
A little bird told us that we might get a children’s and gym play area. To replace this mess. My initial thoughts are shock horror and against losing our quiet, relaxing natural park. I’ll be waiting a long time for the corporation’s consultation. Ha ha.