Tag: Mysore

Anniversary

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Remembering MAnjula who continues giving.

Sowbaghya and I visited the home for elders to sponsor their meals on the 23rd March on the anniversary of Manjula’s soul flying away.

It was a hoot. SB and I misplaced each other before arriving. Then there was the checking Aadhaar (ID) cards, completing the receipt, and at the last moment remembering to write to confirm it was in Manjula’s remembrance.

The guys remembered and others joined in recalling me cycling in the grounds with the giant picture of MAnjula, a year ago on the anniversary of her death.

I promised to return for her birthday in August. We all laughed and joked, very entertaining but I wonder what they really think.

Sowbaghya is preparing for today’s memories of Manjula.

Implant

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I had my vaccination a week ago and my fauci mycrosoft implant doesn’t seem to be working.

As I get older and more confused I’ve decided I need one so my sons in London and Vancouver can keep track.

Had it inserted into my bone today and the false tooth will be in place soon. This African model includes a microphone as well as the tracking device.

writing our story

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is proving to be quite a challenge, partly as there is a

“paradox at the heart of the enterprise, the inevitable tension between the distance required for apprehension — for a perspective to emerge in which events can find their proper place — and the pressured immediacy of vivid narrative.” from The Art of Time in Memoir by Sven Birkets.

It’s telling a story when the trauma, the wound of: Manjula’s death, the circumstances leading up to it, the wider context and my powerlessness to act on what was happening is still very much with me and therefore makes it harsh and tender by turns. It’s necessary but hard, so the telling of the tale doesn’t progress at a speed or in ways that I’d like..

It’s about knowing when to focus-in the lens and when to pull back, with both “experience tasted and experience digested.”

In addition, I’m having to write in proper English with the handicap that I’m from Yorkshire.

Manjula, still with me, gently sighs, as she’s seen it all before.

Lucie’s Liver 1

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On top of losing Manjula, the house being really quiet for a whole year so missing the hustle and bustle of our lively home, Lucie has not been well.

Her Liver is swollen maybe due to a growth but her doc Bhaghya thinks it’s not cancerous as there’s no indication of it spreading.

So we plan another visit to Bangalore to a more sophisticated scanner and possibly an operation.

Fingers and claws are crossed.

Unbeeeeelievable

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An Opportunity to spend time with the mostly beautiful Maya and improve your painting.

Here’s one she made earlier. A gorgeous portrait of my beautiful Manjula and a pesky Lucie.

I wish I was more than a beginner because then I’d join the class.

I’m the one on the left the wonderful artist and teacher is on the right.

I wonder if she’d let me join a children’s class? They’re probably better than me.

Or perhaps go for the dinner?

If you are an artist, check out this fantastic opportunity, it’s crazy to miss it.

I like

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“A pair of silver anklets poured out. He lifted them against the cheek of the evening sky and he shook them to unspool their rhythmic zhan-zhan-zhan. ‘Take them with you,’ was all she said. Years later he realised what she had really given him. The sound of her feet. The preface to her movements.

As I’m now officially a writer. Ha ha. Well I have pen and a blank sheet of paper.

I spend time reading with two perspectives: firstly as the reader, I always was, appreciating the journey I’m being taken on and secondly realising more about how the writer has created and revealed their story.

I quote another book to help reveal why I like the one above.

“This feeling resonated in me. It was the resonance that had lingered on, exactly as it does when the last page is turned of a book which reaches the heart.”

I want Manjula and my story to reach the heart as it did for me.

It’s three years today….

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Manjula and I had our first wedding, the official one in the government office where they exchange contracts on immovable objects. We are undoubtedly immovable objects.

I was age 60 before I got married so there was a big build up and it took some time to move in that direction.

Manjula signed so many documents after we met: applications for passport, visas, accounts, tax returns, becoming a Director of the company, but this was the most important.
I’ve got the photo albums out, here at home.

three days later we celebrated and married again in a field