Our special friend

My dear Lucie. 

We met when someone had dumped you, your brother and sister at the end of our street. 

We’ve had so much fun together. Almost from  the very first moment I came to live in Mysore. 

It didn’t take long for you to realise where the kindly Firangi,  — who fixed your skin problems and regularly fed you — came from, so you all followed. 

The man who lived downstairs was less keen on the black — India street dog and her siblings— setting up home under our tree. This was… Exactly where you came to rest on Saturday when you were feeling ill and went back to that same tree. 

We’d chase and roll around in the park, with Vis another street dog becoming a friend. 

In time I found homes for your brother and sister. You had the op at People for Animals, with a neat ‘bite’ taken out of your ear so you wouldn’t be re-captured and spayed again. (When I first visited India I wondered why many street dogs had a bite taken out of an ear. — it wasn’t another dog! ) 🤭

You became part of our wonderful family 

Whenever neighbours saw me without you, they’d want know where you were. I even went to a hotel miles away on the other side of the city where a waiter asked where you were! He also lived in Siddarthanagar

It’s not surprising that you were so well known as we walked through the layout four times every day.

Now I have to go to the bakery, cafe and chai shop on my own.

When Manjula’s spirit moved on we had a lovely portrait painted of you both

I miss you both so much, hope you find each other, in your new lives. I’ll catch up with you eventually but in the meantime, I’ll now introduce you and share you both with even more people. 

Friends from around the world are sending their love and sharing their memories.

Billet-Doux is still looking for you here and expects our walk last thing at night with the owl flitting above us

Our friendly owl

Missing you. Our life was ….

What a Wonderful family and friends we had. .

Until the next time

love

from us all and especially Sowbaghya, Billet-Doux, Kaveri,  and Stephen. 

Peaks and troughs

The last few weeks have been quite difficult.

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.

Here’s the letter I wrote to MAnjula after she slipped through my fingers.

I stumbled across it today. It was as I began my journey through the tunnel of love paddling the thick grief gravy and I remembered….

Manjula the ever-smiler, radiated love like the rays of a sun.

When I can —- I recall the wonderful light she brought into my life — puts the awful loss and memories of her slipping away, into the shade.

So of course, I’m very fortunate.

Precious moments

After watching Ina’s family’s celebration of her life, (funeral).

I’m reminded to try and always leave meeting someone with warmth and care as it might be the last time we see them. I did with Ina but still need reminding to always be attentive, kind and share compassion.

That’ll do nicely, Lucie appreciates her comforting gift (having taken over the downstairs floor) and can pretend she’s the queen, when the cat’s not around.
The two big buddies. Manjula and Ina who just might already be having a gas, a great time together, as souls who will reconnect.

There’s more about Ina here

Each year we will do Puja for MAnjula and Ina to help their spirits ‘on the way’ to their new lives.

Language of love

A recent arrival at Manjula’s Library.

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

Manjula’s love

Radiated through her smile and her actions.

As I’ve paddled my boat through the grief gravy the layers of Manjula’s love become more apparent. I learn more everyday from her life.

“But when you want to gain love through success, it cannot be achieved through anything quantifiable. The people that will be crying when you depart the world are not doing so because of any number that is tied to your name. They are doing so because you were a loving partner, a caring friend, or a shepherd of kindness. You are dearly missed not because of what you’ve earned, but because of what you represented.”

Find the article here

Life’s lessons

The illusion of control.

I expect I’m doing my usual and stating the bleeding obvious. 

In this unwelcome necessary extraordinary extended period of reflection and potential growth, I realise the greatest challenge. 

Yes it’s about loss and grief, goes without saying, I suppose. 

There’s been many but especially three (many more of course but three for listing here) . Losing someone through splitting up with a lover, second losing Manjula when she died.  Now I’d count my tonic to deal with the grief as the third. It’s not loss but deep down it’s the equivalent. 

So why do I put them together? 

They represent times when I felt unable to do anything … actually experiencing powerlessness, learning lack of control in some situations.

That realisation comes … After a lifetime of reinforced messages that it’s up to us, we’re masters of our own destiny and in control. 

The third example is having the wherewithal to support and guide Kaveri but to realise how handicapped I am in the face of a completely dysfunctional family who don’t understand or care. 

Well done, Farrell — that’s another fine mess you’ve gotten us into (only yesterday, Kaveri was asking about Laurel and Hardy) — But of course it’s about regaining one’s equilibrium, being positive and constructive, working out the way that works and the benefit I can gain from another of life’s lessons. 

So in a different way, it does depend on how we take it and manage the situation — critically it’s in the eyes of the beholder—and mostly about our relationships. 

So as I said bleeding obvious. 

I send this to you because you might not believe it but you are very important 

As Kaveri knows, BK 

Manjula’s flowers.

The family grows

No not (just) the car.

It’s important to recognise and realise how much my adopted family here in India as helped me survive the most difficult years in my life.

Sowbaghya is so critical to my life here in Mysore

She’s project managed and coordinated the rejuvenation of the radical red, that is now attention seeking in and around Mysore and Srirangaptnam

That’s the tip of the mountain of help she has been.

Sowbaghya is important to me and has kept me and the business going.

Thank you Sowbaghya for all your help.

I firmly believe that grief is always with us but becomes more manageable as we fill the space around it with important valued people and ‘things’ we do.

The next member of the family, everyone knows, the irrepressible Kaveri. Grief manager extraordinaire.

I can’t begin to list what she does for me.

She makes me smile (and cry.)

She’s cool.

She’s a big thing.

Our mini team is complete with Kaveri’s ‘sister’ Radhika, a wonderful young woman.

I look forward to witnessing her develop and we growing together through the years.

Oh ….. Trishalla and Eregowda, have been a great support through difficult and remembering times, you’ll have to wait to see where that leads.

A special mention for: Sarvesh, Vasanth, Satish, Tanuja and their families.

We’ve all worked together to cherish and continue Manjula’s radiance through our projects: events, school, community meals, creativity days, supporting Kaveri, and making Manjula’s garden in the park.

Not to forget our guests who have become family and my very own DNA family folks in the U.K. and Canada

Ina, our every-year guest who was a big buddy of MAnjula and now me, in front of the banner created by other guests.

There’s not only humans in my family…

Wayanad

We’ve returned to Varnam homestay

Introduced to us by previous guests (there’s been a bit of to and fro, with guests visiting both here and Mysore Bed and Breakfast.) and especially Antoinette (aka the Queen, who’s retained her head) it’s our second visit this school holiday.

Ready to go.
On the way

I didn’t want to risk driving the radical red so far so Anjum drove us in his taxi.

There’s plenty of entertainment.

Including self-made

BUT ITS BEEN A SHOCK

…

This morning Lucie and I went for a walk on the other side of the lake but it didn’t go to plan.

Lucie slipped down a bank, touched the electric fence and ended up on the other side. It was a joke, an episode of ‘Laurel and Hardy’.

Comedy from silent movie days.

I created a barrier with palm leaf and hauled her back through the fence, with a ‘thank you’ nip for my trouble.

The girls have now found the beginning of the next day.