This was my response to the message posted in our local Mysore community….
I’d love it, but I just can’t. To me .. It reflects different dimensions, feelings or moods. MAnjula my wife who sadly died seven years ago would reveal all
These layers.
Starting from the left Her smile, shining like the sun would infect everyone she met. The middle is her action, being there always helpful and determined. The third her calmness in whatever situation. The style reflects her embracing the tradional and the modern. Wrapping it all up would be her attention to being present and attentive.
I can’t take it as I’ve just moved and already have too much art
The full message …. posted to our local WhatsApp group in Mysore.
Dear Art Lovers,
This is not an easy message for me to write.
There is a piece of art that has been a meaningful part of my journey for a long time. It has quietly shared my space, witnessed many chapters of my life, and carried a presence that words often fail to describe.
However, life has brought me to a point where I can no longer hold on to it. While letting it go is difficult, I feel that this piece deserves to continue its journey with someone who truly connects with it and appreciates it from the heart.
I don’t want to place a price tag on this artwork. Some things cannot be measured by a fixed number. Instead, I would love to hear from those who feel genuinely drawn to it.
If this piece speaks to you, I invite you to send me a personal message sharing:
• Why you feel connected to this artwork.
• What story, feeling, or memory it awakens within you.
• And what amount you would be comfortable offering for it.
Over the next few days, I will read each message with gratitude and care. My intention is not simply to find a buyer, but to find the right home for this piece—someone who will cherish it as much as I have.
Thank you for taking the time to read this and for honoring the journey of this artwork.
By next season (October 2026 onwards) we will be in a new home.
It’ll prove to be challenging — leaving the home that I shared with MAnjula, that we created together. But it’s a positive change and MAnjula would approve.
We’ll continue to share our home with our community from around the world and new friends who find us.
A first step will be to reduce the ‘clutter’ here at home.
Already friends have been eager to pick souvenirs from our home. Furniture, paintings, and Knickknacks as their mementoes.
We continue to invite our community of guests and visitors to spot things they’d like.
Soon I’ll start posting specific things that are available to buy.
That’s my favourite saying about India that I share with guests.
I say it with respect and fondness for my adopted country — obviously.
But — Nothing is ever as it seems.
This article in the Star of Mysore seems to be about ‘guest lecturers’ in colleges and universities.
I thought it was about employees, who weren’t ’on establishment’ ie permanent employees or didn’t have tenure. They do an equivalent job but don’t share the same conditions of service, security or remuneration.
Hence their campaign.
I’d seen this in other government institutions, for example in a museum where there were two classes of employees, namely permanent and ‘contract’ workers.
But here it seems to relate to ‘qualification’ ie whether their qualification was approved by the UGC- the university grants committee. Yet they are teaching.
Got it so far?
I’d realised something of this fifteen years ago. I’d helped out by temporarily lecturing on an innovative MBA designed for managers in NGOs. Set up by an amazing grassroots organisation the Swami Vivekananda Youth Movement at its leadership unit.
I’d have loved to continue as a lecturer (facilitator in my terms) but was put off it, as it would involve a complex bureaucratic process at the university. In any case as a foreigner it would have been extra complicated. That’s not taking into account my Yorkshire accent!? Or awful humour. Or way of teaching.
Fine no issue. I set up our business and did the occasional presentations elsewhere.
But I hadn’t thought until now that my degrees might have also been a problem.
Worse was to come ….
…
So here’s my latest experience of one small part of this inconsistent world.
In my stressed out attempts to remain in my adopted country I had a fab idea to do a PhD. I’ve recently researched ‘education’ picking up an interest I’d initiated in my first degree and rekindled after deciding to sponsor Kaveri.
The open university showed interest in me doing a PhD with them. I wanted to look into how we could better prepare children for adulthood. Globally, I feel that our schools do a poor job.
That subject links with the ‘golden thread’ that’s found through all my careers, about enabling people to be active participants in the decisions which affect them.
But I stumbled.
The university decided I hadn’t got a masters. I have and it’s an MPhil. Which the UGC in its wisdom recently decided to ban Indian institutions from awarding . I got mine in the 90s after over three years of research. It’s a ‘stand alone’ that radically cuts across disciplines. They’re not even worried about the subject —- that’s Critical Management, which I thought, might be a problem.
I’ve been differently advised that the UGC decision is not backdated and doesn’t relate to international MPhil’s so mine should be accepted but try telling that to the university staff who don’t want to fall foul of the central instructions or diktats.
If you’re really bothered there’s more information here.
Footnote
As you can see, I keep bouncing off brick walls in trying to stay here.
I would have been eligible for residency but not after MAnjula died.
After twenty years of being on a business visa, policies change, and the turnover in the business is not high enough.
So what are my options?
Being a student (see above problems) plus getting the facts about courses is not straightforward.
Another option is volunteering my next idea was to do the education research and experimentation —without the PhD — but with no success so far. I’m too old .. we’re reorganising … our main trustee has died… or so they inform me … but I just want a way to carry on this useful work. Whatever. .
Buying a house, really?
Getting married again, that hurts.
..
Maybe there’s a not-so-hidden-message here.
Maybe I’ve overstayed my welcome and should leave or my principles are getting in the way But that’s another story.
Maïlis has been with us now for almost two months. She’s really got into Mysore, become part of our little community and created a wide range of exciting experiences for herself.
I was invited by her wonderful new friends Pravallika and Cade to visit and find out where they’re learning to carve.
At this family workshop they’re famous for carving significant statues and especially Rama for the new Ayodya Temple
But there was a great big surprise waiting for me.
Maïlis as her very first project had carved our Lucie in stone
How wonderful is that?
Just one month ago Lucie gave up, she’d had too much after managing so well with a painful hip and difficulties with her kidneys. She was strong and brave and her gentle friendly nature had helped her connect with thousands of our guests.
… and a cat
A fantastic image of our precious family member which now has pride of place in our upstairs lounge.
Two sets of guests leaving and two more arriving. Four of us visiting Kaveri’s school for the republic day celebrations.
Kaveri was superb as the narrator of the skit.. surely a coincidence that it had a demo against the English, demanding they leave the country.
🤪🤔🤭
Of course it was.
and singing
It was not to be a quiet day.
Mailis kindly agreed to go with our driver Akram to take Lucie to the vet hospital, whilst I fulfilled my Kaveri duty.
…
Lucie has attended daily for the past week to be put on a drip (clean out her kidneys?) and be pumped full of drugs. It was worth a try but it’s not made much difference and then on the Saturday evening she seemed far far worse. She had difficulty standing or walking or did endless turns to lower herself and sit down. She even slipped out of the house and through the gate, which has not been allowed for some time now.
I looked all over to for her. Eventually finding her at the front of the house, beneath our lovely tree on a pile of leaves.
Exactly the sort of tree that MAnjula imagined being reincarnated as, because it sheltered and supported people.
She was always — attentive, present and above all — kind
I expect it was looking for the comfort that attracted Lucie but I imagine her collapsing as she’d lost the energy to do much else. She knew and had gone to ground.
And … Manjula continues to support us all.
…
I thought I just heard Lucie clicking as she dragged herself up the stairs.
Not to be.
I explained to Kaveri that her good friend was finding life too much. I left her in tears — but comforted by each other —-at the end of her star performance
We grow closer with every shared experience
I leave for Leela the animal hospital. Madan, the founder reveals that we could continue to wash out her kidney (or liver? I’m already in a daze) but that seems pointless. He’s being kind.
It’s time.
She’s even had a couple of fits.
I sign the document. I continue to hold and comfort her. I want to be with her as it’s best. She relaxes and her eyes glaze.
Goodbye my precious friend.
It’s been a year since she’s found the stairs a little challenging. I would joke about installing a stair-lift! — we’d worked it out, but for no longer.
In Didion’s book ‘a year of magical thinking’ (well it lasts for longer than a year … like forever) she writes about the vortex, I call it being bushwhacked.
One is ….
Attacked for no apparent reason, as the sadness arises — mainly due to recollections that appear — as if from nowhere.
There’s also a regular hidden sadness that surfaces as intolerant anger.
Sorry everyone.
I’m dealing with CBB — can’t be bothered — but it’ll get sorted.
There’s a short chapter on ‘the language of love’ my reaction is not surprising, given the subject.
It happens ‘sometimes’. …
There’s a physical tightening of the stomach and a sort of shift in the eyes and forehead leading to the feeling of tears welling and a teeny moisturising of the eyes. I’m still making my way through the fantasy fairground tunnel of love slowly through the thick mud of grief gravy. Whilst I’ll never get to the end I need to ensure I break into the positive memory zones and rediscover tolerance.
On the way I’m reminded of previous moments of our wonderful life that I was lucky enough to share with my MAnjula.
Her love was constant (probably) and consistent built on her strengths of attentiveness and presence. I love her more as I’m share more of its layers passing through this crazy tunnel.
I realise that I’ve written this with John Lennon’s Woman playing in the background and it all started with you are my sunshine.
Lyrics below
Woman I can hardly express My mixed emotions at my thoughtlessness After all, I’m forever in your debt
And woman I will try to express My inner feelings and thankfulness For showing me the meaning of success
…
Woman I know you understand The little child inside the man Please remember, my life is in your hands
And woman Hold me close to your heart However distant, don’t keep us apart After all, it is written in the stars
…
woman Please let me explain I never meant to cause you sorrow or pain So let me tell you again and again and again
I love you, yeah-yeah Now and forever I love you, yeah-yeah Now and forever I love you, yeah-yeah Now and forever I love you, yeah-yeah Now and forever
——-
You are my sunshine
You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You’ll never know, dear How much I love you Please don’t take My sunshine away
The other night, dear As I lay sleeping I dreamed I held you In my arms When I awoke, dear I was mistaken So I hung my head and cried
You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You’ll never know, dear How much I love you Please don’t take My sunshine away