A week after Manjula’s birthday celebration (which I recognise is actually a bit weird) I’m in one of the strangest periods I’ve ever had in ten years living in Mysore. …. and I’ve had some seriously off times. Maybe more than in the previous fifty years (I’m now 64) before moving to India.
I’ve shared some of my most challenging times as they related to losing Manjula. This one is about engaging with the unforgiving unfathomable system.
I’ll have to get out of this particular dark tunnel where there is no light before I’m able to share much more.
….. other things, today.
I’m just back from yoga class where I’d hoped for a bit more distraction.
Next, Lucie and I go out for a walk. I completely failed her yesterday with just one short joint walk late in the day as I was dealing with a whirlpool of mayhem. Thankfully Sowbaghya was here to help and both Satish and Vasanth took her rides in their autos.
Lucie’s drinking point just inside our gate
Nicely arranged with flowers and plants and on top of grinding stone from the village.
My new daily ritual is to reach into Manjula’s Claris (gift from a guest, maybe Christine) bag of coins for ten rupees to pay for this morning chai.
Thoughtful as ever Manjula provides my morning tea.
World War One German helmets or hanging pots, yet to be installed.
Planting out the riceWe’re out and about, and visiting Satish on Srirangapatnam.
Mysore’s magic continues to show itself in special ways.
The party girls out and about after my early morning yoga. shopping with Tanuja for the new garden
lunch in Indra Paras Hotel where the owners and staff were happy to see me and surprised I’d been in Mysore all this time.
The hotel owner thought I’d put on weight, so I blamed the pandemic and not the cream cakes from Sapa. Might have to hit that on the head though.
MAnjula’ bench (no 4) at my favourite museum in the old House used by the British after the fourth war of Mysore in 1799. It’s-now complete with sleeping Buddha.
and more gardening back at home, with other people randomly helping our gardener …
Our local shopkeeper wondered why I was so red, it’s hanging out in the park vaguely directing the garden creation, with very little actual work.
It was such a characterful portrait of beautiful Manjula. The enigmatic artist knows MAnjula, connected and found her spirit.
I just had to have another.
I may seem greedy but I just can’t get enough of MAnjula (you may have worked that out) and especially how Priyanka brings out many facets of my beautiful wife.
There’s even more significant detail to explore in this one.
P was guided by a photograph from shortly after we were engaged in 2015
I’m now coming to the end of draft three of our story. There’s still a loooong way to go but thought I’d share something.
As a Hindu Manjula believed in reincarnation so it’s one area I’ve researched and found incredibly interesting.
For more details from me you’ll need to wait for the book or in the meantime check some of the resources I’ve listed here. The books are available in Manjula’s library.
Their latest event on 11th July focussed on the monsoon . The event was wonderfully entertaining with participants from throughout India and a rich mix of contributions from storytellers, musicians, lyricists, singers, poets and polemicists.
For what it’s worth here’s my contribution.
I have much experience of rain in the ‘land of grey” as I’m from one of the rainiest parts of England, and even though I moved to live in Mysore I still have little experience of the extremes of the monsoon phenomenon. Life is so easy in so many ways in Mysore
This is unapologetically raising broad challenging questions
…
I can feel it at the end of our noses
It’s no poem
A serious story the message is not hidden.
It’s a wake up late at night.
…
I’ve moved to Mysore in India, its my first time out on my Enfield
I’m new to this.
I wonder why are all the two wheelers stopping under the bridges, or the flyovers or the riders finding shelter at the shops?
Because I’m new to this
but realise why, as the rain falls
It is the monsoon, I’ll know better next time.
Did you feel a spot of rain?
We got our brollies out and opened them just in time
We knew it was the monsoon.
We had torrential rain for weeks
…..
The rains have broken the roads
no one expected the monsoon
the construction site sand has run away after a heavy shower
and escaped down the road blocking the drains
no one expected the monsoon
water seeps into the tarmac cracks and pushes them open
no one expected the monsoon
…..
fires devastated the forests in Australia and California
we didn’t expect that
the heatwave killed people in USA and Canada
we didn’t expect that either
..
Had anyone expected that
or does no one care
We stumble through life being uncertain about what will happen and
how to deal with the challenges we face.
its part of life and how we learn
we hear whispers,
our gut sends messages
its in the papers,
the UN discusses
but do we listen and if we do
can we act?
We knew all about the monsoon, the fires, the heatwave, the pandemic, wave one two and three, so why didn’t we act?
Were we Breathing Lethargy Air?
or
Following the submissive path? Who knows?
Check them out nd join in, as there’s all sorts of different events like celebrating art.