Finding more details

B77A0EEE-3E8C-4DC7-B0AD-045C3493C7E4I tracked down Manjula’s neighbours and friends from over eight years ago when she first started working for me.

They couldn’t quite believe it , as manjula was so discreet and personified humility they knew nothing about us setting up Mysore Bed and Breakfast, her managing the cleaners, gardener and drivers, the visits to the U.K., her friends around the world. To top it all, the fact that we’d got married. I was so proud of my beautiful and they were so surprised.

An especially poignant moment was when they’d checked I’d properly created a Hindu funeral and I shared the lovely video of releasing Manjula’s ashes into the river

Sumukh and I will interview them for our story.

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Another brick in the wall.

6C5A4AB0-09AE-47A9-995D-E9B564628A77.jpegHe’s lost his wife. Well she’s not really lost; she’s gone, Left him, Expired. Not here anymore, deceased

There’s another set of bricks to add to the impenetrable wall.

A guest innocently raised the question that Manjula shouldn’t Have died. Absolutely she shouldn’t. It turned out to be a raging tear-filled day hemmed in by the blasted wall.

There are so many, generally unhelpful bricks in the wall.

The death brick. No longer here brick. Then there’s the ‘what if’ brick, the brick that’s actually a hole, a chasm in my life. Then the feelings — the dirty brick. The what the fuck brick. What next? Remorse brick, guilt brick, I’m an idiot brick, the stress, the anxiety, the depression series of SAD bricks. The loser brick, brick, brick, brick, brick that actually creates a wall of misunderstanding, that blocks out the light, makes life dark, that shows you’re lost, smells like soil, crumbles like mud, brittle like my soul, the walls bricks are higgledly piggly, uniformity has no place here, there are abrasive bricks, sullen bricks, insensitive bricks, flying through the air hitting you on the head bricks, bringing tears to your eyes bricks, squeaky brick, thick as a brick. What about me brick? Lost my way, hitting my head against it brick, lost my love brick, disappears in a puff of smoke brick, unfair brick, didn’t get her to a British Doctor brick, meant to be brick, didn’t do anything right brick, let her go brick. What a brick. Went camping in the rain brick. Relied on the Indian doctor brick. I’m now lost brick. I love and miss you gap.

 

 

Manjula gives

again and again and again… meals for the elders at the Ashram, her Clothes for Sowbhagya and Chic, who work for us and the old lady who’s mud house is featured on our cycle tour. A Sari for Vidya who’s expecting her first birthday next week. Thank you Ina for all your help

 

 

Man’s best friend.

It’s been an exceptionally challenging time and continues to be. But it’s important, for me, not to forget how difficult it is for Lucie. It’s been turmoil. She’s lost one of her closest friends, who like a mother would care for and support her. One of the distinctive smells and presence, in so many ways, is no longer with us. I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like for her. Lots of action then her world is turned upside down and then having to rely on that unpredictable man.

“Where’s my routines and familiar friends. she cries!”

She was and continues to be sad. We’re adjusting in what turns out to be a long long road.

There’s a posting here in recognition of our supportive friends.

Maybe we share a broken heart

C66A146B-6D48-41E3-88D9-4AD57E1CB9BF

Manjula’s Meals

For Manjula, an important part of her life here at Mysore Bed and Breakfast was her cooking. Here’s a video of her at work.

Her sumptuous meals – were all from memory and experience over many years of serving others. The new additions and innovations she which she’d excitedly reveal, came from watching her favourite cooking programmes.

It was part of her constant giving, her love, her care and connecting to others.

Tonight was very special.

It was the first time since Manjula died that we’d had a dinner here. Partly in her memory and partly to continue her tradition.

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Thank you Manjula.

The No 1 cooks were Tanuja and SB (aka Sowbhagya) who works for us now, ably juggling cleaning, cooking and tolerating me. Keerthi, Tanu’s husband was called in for technical support. Our guests wolfed down the lovely food and helped finish off the washing up.

We will continue to invite our friends to share their cooking skills with future guests.

Manjula, once again, bringing people together.

 

 

Chips off the old block

I’m often asked about my sons and what they do.

Ben, my eldest made a dramatic change about ten years ago and switched from working on computers to become a chef. A big and very successful step change. I like to think that my flexible approach to careers and work helped encourage that. 🙃 He now lives in London with Alice his lovely wife and his teenage daughter, age six.

Ol, my youngest, lives in Vancouver. He does a bit of this and a bit of that. His latest role in addition to events management is, wait for it…… drums roll,…

a …..

cycle tour guide 🙂

 

Falling in love again…..

It’s time.

This might sound like self imposed torture, (our initials were S&M!):

-reading through the transcripts created by Vidya from Manjula’s Kannada audio recordings, or

-watching her talking to video camera in English,

-having conversations about my love with Tanu, Satish and Ina with the help of Faizan and Sumukh who are researching and recording.

I miss and don’t want to lose any memories, of course she’s with me and to you my friends it might seem a hard thing to do, even masochistic, it’s very difficult, but it’s also wonderful in the sense that I discover even more about Manjula and fall in love all over again.

Out walking with Lucie I was bushwhacked attacked with sad feelings and tears, as if from nowhere.

Only to arrive back home to be greeted by this….

Hello Stephen, This appeared in my mind when I thought of you and Manjula: “Beautifully she lived and lives in your heart and soul, She sings through the world around you, “Express your love for me by living a kaleidoscopic life” It is written as it appeared to my mind and I felt I wanted to share it with you. Love, Kali