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

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Games people play.

Annoying things in India

I often explain on a cycle tour how much I love India, at something like eighty percent. I have after all chosen to adopt India as my home and married a beautiful Indian woman. However there is fifteen percent I can take or leave and maybe five percent that’s ugly that, I hate. That last bit includes the violence and aggression but also milder forms of behaviour. Examples of this might be Babu’s giving you the run-a-round or businesses not understanding customer care.

In my view this results from the extreme hierarchy and the deference expected of people. It’s reinforced in the home, at school or college and at work. Do what you’re told and don’t question things. Know your place and don’t challenge the way things are, seems to relate to caste.

Even in the simplest of situations it feels like your treated like a child.

Today was a case in point. It might seem a simple thing, and insignificant but I think its part of that overall problem. I’ve investigated this and now realise all the mobile phone companies are the same.

I’m at the Airtel shop, I’ve gone as my phone is not working, I’m told that the SIM card was faulty and needed replacing. For them to issue me with a replacement I need ID. I have a copy of my passport on the iPhone and after some kerfuffle get a print out. Sorry sir we need to see the original hard copy.

I’ve been a customer for maybe over 7 years. It was the number used by Manjula so is very significant and sentimental. I’ve provided my ID to set up my account, it’s on their system THEY KNOW WHO I AM but still they require an established customer to prove who they are but it MUST be the actual document. Just to get a replacement SIM card for the faulty one. This will be my fourth trip to the Airtel shop. Inconvenience sir, no problem.

I object to the employees but they treat us as children because that’s how they’re treated by their managers. Who can blame them? Employees are expected do as they’re told and not question things. Treat people like children, they’ll behave like children and not take responsibility.

For years I’ve delivered workshops in London and a roadshow for TATA that’s about empowering employees to make decisions to be able to innovate, be creative and focus on creating a quality customer experience.

That’s not valued here and is nigh on impossible to create in a system that prioritises deference, doing as you’re told and not in any way thinking for yourself.

Sad.

My tolerance levels are diminished since Manjula died. She’d just laugh at me.

 

UPDATE

I went back to the Airtel shop with my ID card, fully annoyed but relatively calm. The new SIM was issued and installed by me later that day. Just don’t ask about the need to install it in a simple-smart phone before finally installing it in a smart-smart phone. BUT it still didn’t work so on my 5th trip back to the Airtel shop they’ve admitted that the SIM card and the rigmarole in visits 3 and 4 we’re unnecessary. I’m told it will be working by tonight. What lessons I can take from all this, I’ve no idea and I’ve lost the will to live.

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.

 

 

Thoughts and Feelings, Fond memories April 2019 onwards

Further thoughts and feelings as Manjula flies the nest.

Postings from April through to August

Grief, the three bucket method….beginning to work out how to manage some of the grief and push some away! There are all sorts of ways to deal with this situation Unreturned love of my star, including poetry and more of the journey Private mission: grief recovery and wobbles Key stages, behind the scene. Happiness is a choice you make is a very helpful perspective in this difficult situation, Three stages are quite apparent now. Stepping stones are another analog in Doddery

Memories of Manjula, key images around the house partly as a Hindu tradition. Manjula more memories flowers flowers flowers, pictures pictures, pictures Can there be too much?

A significant anniversary, four weeks after Manjula died she sponsors meals at the Ashram but what are those symbols appearing on our streets. Which change before our eyes in Mixed feelings. Seven weeks since

Ap pagal hey, are you mad?

A getaway, Lucie and I take a break and then we have to leave Kerala farewell. Election time while we’re in Kerala and a reminder of the first time Manjula voted.

Here’s a plan, friends are so helpful. AWOL two friends become directors to replace Manj I travel to Europe and north America to visit guests for Manjula hugs

To live in others hearts is not to die is such a great way to think about it

A smile, Manjula had a remarkable beacon of a smile a common theme…

What happens after we die and Helping children with death, discussing Manjula’s death with my granddaughter.

Manjula’s watching, still being the boss, sending a message from where her spirit is resting ….. did I say resting?

With a little more help from our friends an appeal for memories of Manjula. Here are some of the memories, others will be featured in other ways! Missing Manjula 2 There must be a Manjula 1 somewhere. We also remember with Jingle jangle and New thing for memory of Manjula

Manjula my muse, and she continues to be…

I’ve been fortunate to get away for almost two months in June and July Back home is a challenge

The factly fiction stories

Stop the magic roundabout and Magic roundabout again are my initial thoughts that led to the magic roundabout story.

Watch this space, the relevance of Karma. I then released my factly fiction story Magic roundabout and Magical thinking helps put it in context. Then mmm.

A factly fiction story looking for a home led to a dream for one of our guests Great response

Life in India

Phew, we have to find some help.

As part of our giving we want to do something new, but Oh no not again and

Oh no not again 2

as i realise the implications of having to relate to officialdom again. Our revise experiences of sorting out IDS, Passport, visa and registering he business with the City Corporation have been detailed in our story.