Category: our story

The days after, three years ago

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Doing my duty…

When one suffers such loss that forms a trauma and it’s aftermath, it’s an extra challenge to focus on the positive.

It’s especially difficult at anniversary time. There’s a preoccupation with the loss, the guilt, a blaming.

In this month there’s also helpful reminders of good, our wedding ceremonies.

Some might wonder why I follow so ‘religiously’ the traditions. It’s simply my love and devotion for MAnjula.

I always tried my best to do what she wanted
And she was bossy

The day afterwards brings out memories of when she was laid to rest on her bed, outside our house with the tell tale symbols of the smouldering wood informing the neighbourhood what was happening. Next we’d go to the industrial shed-oven aka crematorium and before that a puja by the side led by Manjula’s brother.

A kindly neighbour brought Bhagavad Gita to help emphasise our duty not to become too attached to our loved ones and to help their soul spirit move onto another body.

Here’s me doing precisely that…..

Do follow the link and check the video at the end where I’m at one of the most significant places on Srirangaptnam; visited on every cycle tour over the past ten years.

I was so lucky

This week

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March is a month of significant memories.

Always Together

It began with our wedding at the city corporation, followed a few days later with a celebration on Srirangaptnam.

Two years running she was admitted to intensive care and sadly and devastatingly died three years ago on the 23rd.

We do Pooja on that anniversary, help her on her way and remember fantastic times with a wonderful woman.

Here’s a video memory created by our good friend Tom, Manjula showing one of her many skills and most importantly her kindness of giving.

A visit to Kannur

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I’m sitting with Lucie in our room, at Chera Rocks, which opens directly onto the beach.

It’s been another hot day which cools slightly as we pass 4 0’clock.

We have been visiting our wonderful friends Sally and Shabaz, before Eastenders Sally sadly returns to the U.K.

Together we’ve retraced Manjula and my steps during previous holidays, including Manjula’s deep desire 😉 to visit the drive-on-beach.

Just Walking on the drive-on-beach.
Making New friends

This morning Sally and I walked along the beaches to visit Rosie and Nazir of Kannur Beach House and share my photos of Manjula.

Rosie, Nazir and their family became good friends after we visited many times.

Manjula and I in Kannur to celebrated our engagement in 2015

Manjula’s look of absolute bliss laying on the beach by Kannur Beach House on that first holiday together.
Our very last trip exactly three years ago, shortly before she died, here we’re catching up with Rosie and Nazir.
with me in many ways

It’s time for a last swim. We return to Mysore tomorrow.

We’ve bonded on this trip after I’d been away for almost three months

We did it, followed by a shared shower, Lucie thinks it was all too much. She waits until carefully positioned next to cascade her water drops on my clothes and bag. Ha bloody ha …

and a final walk before dinner.

Wedding part two

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The morning after the reception.

Timings are followed exactly (9.00 to 9.30 am) unlike the night before when things hadn’t started almost two hours after the advertised time.

The knot is tied and I’ve poured milk, gently thrown rice and had tiffin.

Behind the scenes in the choultry or wedding hall is the sort of place where Manjula started working.

The bride’s proud father

Summer arrives early in Mysore

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For the first time in twelve years I’ve spent part of the winter in the U.K. yes it is different from the summer. 🤭

It’s quite a contrast from the cold wet misery alternating with the pure gray ness to be back in Mysore where yet again the Summer arrives early.

The tree outside our house has already lost it leaves and they’ve returned within the week. But that’s all happened at the end of January instead of March/April.

But the plants around the house are good and Manjula’s garden, less than a year since we planted it, in the park opposite, is looking wonderful with her granite benches standing guard.

It’s in the shape of a ‘m’ or om but you can’t see that without climbing a tree or using a drone.

Here’s a short video to show you more.

Imperfection

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After I’d asked for a sign a messenger came to visit. Thank you Manjula.

Within a day or so the bullock’s head holding Manjula’s pennant fell off the wall and broke.

It probably wasn’t a sign just a clumsy Yindian, yes it was the idiot from Yorkshire that probably dislodged it.

Some time later I was introduced to Wabi Sabi by my friend Kamakshi

and my daughter-in-law Alice, son Ben and granddaughter Poppy gave me a present to fix things the Japanese way

I seem to be being pushed and prodded so I gave it a try,

ta ra ta ra

I can do imperfection (we’re good at that in Yorkshire too)

and now it’s fixed imperfectly

The Heart

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The Heart and the bottle by Oliver Jeffers. This picture book story is part two of a series of three of my postings, number one is grief gravy. If you visit and read each one you’ll realise it reflects something of my recent journey which many of us share.

His stories and artwork are wonderful. My granddaughters favourite was the one about the crayons writing letters to the child.

whose head was filled with all the curiosities of the world
with thoughts of the stars
she took delight in finding new things
It might never have occurred to the girl what to do had she not met someone smaller and still curious about the world.

Manjula and I have given many away as gifts. All his books are also available for our guests and friends at Manjula’s Library in Mysore Bed and Breakfast.

Look out for the third posting in this series, revealing more of my journey.

I refer to more of Oliver Jeffers’ wonderful books in other postings. Do look out for his work for the children and adults in your life.

The fourth quarter

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The final chapter, last leg, finale….

We knowingly enter it at or around age sixty.

She’s 65, I’m 12

It helps confirm time is limited. It raises questions of how one has used the time available and the new challenge is to live each moment fully (if we haven’t been already).

For some it might be fulfilling wishes, completing the bucket list while for others it’s reflection and for all of us, more learning.

For the wisest and where they see its possibility it’s about joy, contentment and happiness.

Being kind, creating gentle ripples.

Leaving positive impact

It’s about living life to the full, being attentive and with as much presence as we can muster.

I realise I’ve entered this last leg, as is often the case with me, things get thrown up in the air and I work out what’s feasible, desirable for the next version/iteration.

I’ve been careful not to rush it as the trauma of losing MAnjula has jumbled up my brain cells and bent the connections to create more than the usual fuzz of uncertainty.

For the next two years I plan to continue commemorating MAnjula but I know she would want me to find ways to be happy and that will involve reconnecting and being kind. It will not necessarily be like before and I hope it’s innovative. Who knows? I’ll adapt and find out what works in this new and final stage.

This was written at the end of 2021 and complemented previous postings including the one about ‘opening up my heart.’ Bit of a coincidence there. 🤭

Two significant changes have recently taken place to challenge me further and throw some light on opportunities to help fill space around my grief, recognising it will always be with me and hopefully diminish the impact of the grieving.

It’s related to People, health and meaning…

More later…..

Cherishable

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Today’s cherishable sad and sweet memories are the times Manjula and I spent together.

Here

The writer Didion coined the term ‘vortex’ in her book ‘a year of magical thinking’ about the year after her husband died.

It helpfully describes when one is ambushed by trigger memories of good times spent together.

But I wasn’t ambushed, as I fully expected it.

These are sad and tearful yet happy treasured moments in central London. I know it so well yet it now has an other dimension.