So what’s your job?
And what’s it now?
So what’s your job?
And what’s it now?
It’s always good to find similarities and differences, the places where we Bridge and others where the paths fork…..
We’ve discussed a few times about how important it’s been for Manjula to keep the place going even while she’s not been so well these past few months.
It’s been the right decision when she’s out and about or amongst our visitors she’s enlivened by being connected.
We see it when chatting to guests, at the hospital, or coordinating her network of help, from her good friend who brings home cooked for her each day, the boys at the veg shop and our own team of drivers, cleaners and gardener.
As with me, she’s clearly energised by connecting and engaging with people.
It’s been 48 hours. Can you remember ear ache as a child?. I’d forgotten how bad it was. I’m certain there’s worst but it escapes me at the mo. There was the full-on blood throbbing pain alternating with the swish swish of the chain. Horrible. I was tempted to OD on my paracetamol. I’d turn from resting on the right (bad ear) Then there was the dagger like pain on my left shoulder. I couldn’t sleep and even tried three different rooms. No not embarrassing myself before guests. We had none last night 🙃
Well this morning the ear ache has subsided. What a blood relief. But the aching shoulder has become much worse. So it became…. Jag time. He’s a master. He’s considered a physio but he’s on a totally different planet. One of Mysore’s gems.
According to my appointment card it’s nine years since my last visit. On that occasion Jag declared that my Carpal tunnel syndrome was nonsense and traced the problem to a nerve which he spotted on my shoulder. After three visits and his trademark manipulation it was sorted.
This time, I also suspected nerves. But no after one jab he could tell it was a pulled muscle. So he picked me up lick a rag doll, threw me around the room, wacked me a few times, smacked me on the bed and sat on me …… no of course he didn’t. His gentle but on this occasion painful manipulation and he’d done the trick. Wonderful. That will be 200 rupees. What a bargain!
I return to manhood🙃 ok whimp hood.
Why is there so much rubbish/litter/garbage in the street?
fact is we don’t know but as always we have a view….
There is no simple or easy answer.
We offer the following to help sort the wet from the Dry! It’s in no particular order and it’s taken from what we’ve heard and experienced. Non of it represents the official view of the management.
Elitism. There’s Always someone else lower in the pecking order to clear up after me, it’s beneath me.
Options. There aren’t any. There are few bins, what’s to do? Oddly enough bins have suddenly appeared in the most unlikely places. Like here at the bathing ghats.
Easy. We have a daily collection, a shrill whistle informs us he’s coming and to put the rubbish outside. If we miss him then it easy to walk up the street and dump it. People don’t like storing rubbish at home. It’s dirty innit?
Ignorance. People just don’t perceive it as a problem. The middle classes might blame it all on the lack of education.
keeping up Human behaviour can’t keep up with changing technology. For example: Chai was previously served in terracotta cups, meals were on a leaf. These were thrown down and those materials were biodegradable, it created no problem, except the unsightly mess. Nowadays we have plastic but we behave as if our waste will disintegrate and safe to just through down. It’s not, obviously!
Insignificant there are so many other things to worry about, people don’t have a long term view and don’t see it as a problem
it’s always been like this. One interesting connection is to do with race and culture. Travellers or Gypsys in the west may have originally travelled from north india hundreds of years ago. There might be a connection. They are scrupulously clean inside their caravans (here’s Manjula outside a traditional one in the UK) but just outside it’s a complete mess. Maybe there is a cultural aspect that we don’t understand.
But hang on, look how clean this site is.
Individualism. Me and my own patch. I’ll look after my own home and doorstep but beyond that, nothing matters.
Blindness. It’s not noticed. Its out of sight out of mind.
it’s a real issue locally. Just recently there has been a sterling effort by the city corporation and their teams to keep on top of the rubbish and clear it away within the day. But still people just carrying on dumping…. To make matters worse some people are forever setting fire to the rubbish in the streets.
OK it’s a big problem but change is possible, otherwise we’d still have to tolerate the Brits!
Here’s an interesting take from a blog comparing the north and south. Click here
Before anyone gets all smug. It’s been a worldwide problem. The U.K. had a campaign sixty years ago to keep Britain tidy. The logo is still used today here in India. There are moves afoot, local and national campaigns and citizens taking action.
So let’s leave the final word for a campaign group based in Bangalore. Click here…. it’s worth a look and take part in their mini quiz ..
So its not true that…
I have now developed a long and significant list of excuses for why I’m unable to speak ANY foreign languages:
The British Raj, due to them the English language is so prevalent I can easily get by without Kannada here in Mysore.
British Arrogance, see above.
My parents and therefore my genetical inheritance.
Wax in my ears and assorted other hearing limitations.
A wife and extended team that speaks English and seemingly endless other languages. I get by.
Teachers that couldn’t cram French or German in me.
Probably the top of the tree…. abject laziness combined with being idle, severe inability to stick with anything for more than five minutes and being 🐻 of small brain.
This list is to help whenever I’m questioned why after nine years do I not speak Kannada. (Clearly I cant speak English properly anyway)
Manjula reckons it’s because Ive got a short stubby tongue.
Whereas Manjula, with all the languages at her disposal, yes you’ve guessed it, has a long slender one.
I rest my case
First stop. Diagnostic centre. These places are all over Mysore. You’ll see patients traipsing around the city with files and bags full of results. Doctors having sent them to their ‘preferred’ centre so the get their backhander. But not here at Kannan, the first established here in Mysore they have a fair and transparent policy of No commissions. Lakshman the head doc has been especially helpful to Manj and I.
Well I deposited my blood and urine samples with the instructions to go have breakfast and come back to repeat the process in two hours.
For Idli, (twenty rupees for two servings, that’s 4 Idlis) at reputedly one of the best joints in Mysore opposite Wellington Lodge (why’s it called that? Find out on a cycle tour…. sooo blatant! Says mythical Ed)
Number Three, chai, eight rupees.
4 shopping therapy, yes I can even get enjoyment from buying a replacement squirty water gun for the toilet. Know what it’s for? This photo is between Ashoka Road and Gandhi Square of the hardware capital of Mysore 🙃
5 next one of my fave places, old trad juice shop for sasparilla soda.
6 hotel Indra Paras for sweets!
And just to proof there’s often action here and we don’t have to wait for the big annual Dasara event which only finished last week…. a great procession brought the centre to a chaotic standstill as opposed to the usual
And finally the diagnostic centre to take the piss as they want more blood. Results back at the end of the day. Cost is very reasonable at 2200 rs. That is however almost ten times the supposed minimum daily wage.
India and Italia
It’s a little light relief..
India and Italia, begins with I and ends in A
Some of the best Veggie food in the world…, India and Italy.
What seems like chaos on the roads, Italy and India.
Do you get the Drift? It’s uncanny really. I’ll continue…..
Corrupt politicians, India and Italy.
Politicians in Jail, India and Italy.
Politicians who should be in jail.
The need to bribe public servants to just do their job,
The highest concentration of wood inlay artists in the world. India (Mysore) and next is a village in
Sexist society, well OK thats everywhere.
male dominated, Patriarchal society, Italia and India.
except at home Where the big boss is mamma (Italy) and amma (India) , who serves their little ones, fusses and feeds their children until well into their teens and sometimes beyond
The family and it’s extensions are pretty big in both countries and children, particularly boys, are worshipped,
so, Extended family, children focussed, India Italy.
People who squeeze children’s cheeks, India Italy.
Spoilt boys who become little Princes, India and Italy.
And what’s all that about not getting round to things until the last minute, if at all, ever? Maybe Manana was not from Spain after all…..
there are some bits which are not so easy to be light hearted about…
Preoccupation with skin colour between north… light and south, dark.. (southerners, work in the fields, of course!)
And that’s playing safe, without getting into the politics
And who’s responsible for these uncanny links…. I wonder?