When I posted a version of the image above as part of Becky’s #SimplyRed challenge, no fewer than three readers suggested I issue a challenge of my own: to produce a piece of micro fiction based on that intriguing piece of graffiti. Who’s up for it? You three who suggested it? (You know who you are). I supppose I’ll have to too. 100 words maximum. I gather that this form of story telling is called a drabble. If you’re up for it – by this time next week, please….
As you can see, squared, it was impossible to display the entire cri de coeur in a single image.
My diary, revived from my trip to India back in 2007. This second part details my solo travels during the last three weeks or so.
In which Gwen is my Tour Leader for the Day
Sunday 25th November.
Up, and early breakfast, then took the scooter to New Bus Stand to get the bus for Kumbakonam- the 1 ½ hour journey for 2 of us cost Rs. 30.
Kumbakonam, a not exactly enormous town, has 18 – eighteen – temples. We saw 3. The first, Sarangapani is dedicated to Vishnu, and boasts a temple elephant, who for a small sum, blessed us both. We were much bothered by the monks and so on, but the carvings were magnificent and we did a little shopping too. Lots of the statues are painted here, unlike those in Thanjavur.
Kumbeshwara, the Shiva temple, was exquisite, with very fine and detailed carving.
The Nageshwara temple was not unlike the first one.Then we went and watched some bronze casters at work using the lost wax technique, and Gwen nearly bought one.
But lunch called and a hard hunt eventually found us a not bad spit-and sawdust lunch. Then the bus to Dharasuram. Again, the temple here is superb. Wonderful rows of miniature and not-so miniature sculptures, But the pavings were so hot. Really uncomfortable. Because of course, on holy ground, our feet were bare. It was great – we thought – that the sculpture was unpainted. But talk about sculpture to excess! No surface was unadorned.
On the way back to the bus we came across a park: and this friendly bunch, thrilled that Gwen could chat to them in Tamil.
Our friends in Dharasuram
Then we hunted for the loo and caught a bus home. We sat at the front, and Gwen saw someone be sick out of the window. It was that sort of journey.
I’m sorry my entry for this busy day, full of new experiences, was so brief. We went out for the evening (more about that next week) and I must just have been too tired to write more.
And I hope you worked out that my featured photo is today’s offering for #SimplyRed.
Every Saturday, my grandson and his dad walk up the road to Mountsfield Park, arriving by 9.00 o’clock sharp, to participate in Parkrun , one of the 1,342 5km. running events taking place simultaneosly, country-wide, every week.
Here he is, running not with his dad, but with an unknown individual who gets his 5 minutes of fame by sporting a bright red T shirt, especially for Becky’s #SimplyRed.
Spotted on a roundabout in Brittany. It can’t qualify on its own for Jude’s Bench Challenge, though it’s perfect for Becky’s #SimplyRed. But would three together cut the mustard?
My diary, revived from my trip to India back in 2007. This second part details my solo travels during the last three weeks or so.
A Tourist in Thanjavur
Saturday 24th November
Up betimes and off. Why wouldn’t I be up early when I’d been woken by the Call to Prayer from the mosque at 5.30 a.m.?
The view from my windowas I got myself organised for the day.
Gwen had told me how to get to the bus stop, so I did, and got on a bus and asked for ‘Temple’. Though he indicated he didn’t go there, he didn’t turn me off, so I wasn’t concerned, as Thanjavur isn’t a big town. However … we fetched up at the New Bus Stand, miles out. Nobody spoke English, so I chose the most built-up road, and headed, I hoped, into town. It soon petered out. I had no choice but to go back, pick on the local part of the bus stand, wait for a bus and ask any prospective passenger if it was going to the temple. Luckily it worked, and soon I was there.
It was a wonderful place. Exquisite carvings, a lovely atmosphere and I even got a good guide, so I happily spent a couple of hours there. Then the bank. It’s just chaos. Luckily I didn’t have to queue, but I still had to wait 20 minutes white a bored functionary filled in endless forms and passed me along the line to get my money.
Bank of India Thanjavur. This shot was taken VERY surreptitiously because there were attentive guards with real guns. Needless to say, they are not in shot!
A walk along Ghandiji Road (I was able to check because of the presence of a Ghandi statue); lunch at a great cafe; an hour on the internet, then back to the Palace Museum. What a dump. Dusty, unkempt, piles of rubbish everywhere, long unmown grass. But worst of all, a ‘guide’ who had the most rudimentary English attached himself to me, and I couldn’t shift him. So I didn’t go and see the Chola bronzes, the most interesting part. He also took me to a shop, which I fled from, though later I found another, with quite lovely things.
I walked back to the centre making friends with two stall holders in the outdoor market who wanted pictures sending on. Then shopping there for Gwen – very friendly people with no English who wanted to know my name, shook my hand and generally made me welcome. They laughed when I proffered Rs. 70 (under £1) for my purchases. They wanted Rs 7. Oil laps everywhere because of the Festival.
A rick home then a tour of the district on foot with Gwen to see the rangoli decorations lit with candles outside each house. It was all very attractive, and everyone was out and about admiring each other’s lights.
Street decorations, Thanjavur. And this one’s squared to qualify for Becky’s #SimplyRed.
We went into two of her friends’ houses and sat down. I nearly boobed in one by all-but sitting down in the easiest spare place – next to the husband. That would have been a real faux pas! The home was very sparsely furnished: these people are young academics. Gwen says two bedrooms are more than enough as families generally all sleep in the same room.
We made pasta sauce, ate… and so to bed.
The fearured photo of Brihadishvara Temple is from Unsplash, by Avin CP.
PS. One of today’s suggested tags courtesy of AI is ‘Fiction’. Really. This is not fiction.
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
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