Easter Sunday Holiday

31.03.2024

The Pink Roses: Innocent love. Love beginning to deepen into red. The youth of the feeling. The virginity of emotion. Fresh always. No matter how many times you have fallen before.

The White Rosebud: I thought my love for her was dying. I thought I had to kill my love. It comes to life again. Nothing is ever over in life while the air gives you breath. Look how majestically the bud sails up into the moon…

The Daffodils: Spring awakes, the mind shakes/eternally the heart breaks/what nature makes/she unmakes/I smell the daffodils and the scent of the new/I smell the daffodils and begin to heal and laugh anew.

I took this day as a complete rest day. I had applied for my normal shift on a Sunday and I didn’t get it. So I made do with what I had.

In the morning, I met up with my friend in the park. I deliberately told him we would meet up early so I wouldn’t have an excuse to lie in bed and not do anything. We got massively muddy. We see each other basically every week. He is even going to go on the first two days of my holiday with me and drive me down somewhere. He wanted to come with me on the rest of the holiday too, the other four days, but he couldn’t. Whenever I meet up with him, I lose all my stress. Because even though we argue over everything – including Helen and my approach to her and what I write in my blog – he makes me feel relaxed and we can talk forever about things. One day recently we talked together for about thirteen hours non-stop – one of my last holidays. So after that, I was completely stress free, despite everything that has been happening.

My friend’s advice to me about Helen? They all say the same thing. Leave her alone, she doesn’t deserve you. And if you can’t do that, my friend added, make her jealous by talking about other women and then write about the lifestyle that you live – the lifestyle of a king when you can do whatever you want, when you eat the best foods in the world, when you can have whatever you want whenever you want it, etc.

Why talk about other women with Helen like I do here? What’s the logic behind it? There isn’t any logic. The logic is because if she is interested, she has drawn it out all this time despite knowing that I am fairly attractive and that I am going to be talking to other women because they are going to be interested in me. And she hasn’t done anything about it. So she must not really care that much about me. Or maybe she thinks that no one is interested in me. She is wrong. I only talk about the women that I am interested in here. Do you know, that almost every week, some Indian woman likes me or sends me a message on the Indian dating app? Top women with really high status jobs. The only thing is, I am not attracted to them. This week, a very physically attractive Indian woman liked my profile and we matched. Do you know what the problem is with her? She is two years older than me so that would create difficulties with any potential babies. Other women on the dating apps have liked my profile and some of them have messaged me. And they haven’t been right so I haven’t responded. Helen has this thought in her head that I am desperate and I will go out with anyone. Other women in real life have thrown themselves at me. I don’t go on about it because I’m not going to sit around notching up all the attention I get. I mean, five women in one day a couple of weeks ago came up to me on the street to tell me they liked my clothes and one of them asked me to kiss her. Do you think that happens to other men? It doesn’t.

Well, that’s Suneel as seen through the eyes of Helen. Who, despite what she acts like, reads this diary every night. To see what I am thinking. Most probably.

So, what was today’s menu?

BREAKFAST (usually always the same unless I can’t wake up): orange blossom honey, canadian maple syrup, walnuts, hazelnuts, cashew nuts, almonds, brazil nuts, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, dried goji berries, raisins, lemon peel, oat biscuit with yoghurt and strawberry, a banana, dried apricots, dates, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, yoghurt with chia seeds, flax seeds and lemon and lime marmalade, green tea.

LUNCH: Marks and Spencer’s Pigs in Blankets with Heinz Baked Beans.

TEA: A plain chocolate and vanilla Magnum.

DINNER: Marks and Spencer’s sweet and sour chicken with rice, Mark’s and Spencer’s Thai Panang curry, Marks and Spencer’s White Chocolate, Strawberry and Raspberry Mousse.

While I got everything on reduced for lunch and dinner, we are talking about twenty five pounds worth of food there from lunch onwards. Breakfast probably adds another fiver onto it. So, like I said, I live and eat like a king. I just don’t go on about it, because why boast when other people that are reading are likely struggling? That’s not nice.

On the way home, I bought some lovely daffodils which you can see in the photo – it was the one store that was open.

I spent a lot of time watching videos, but because I am what I am, I spent a few hours writing social media posts for the Japanese art gallery I am at. I also applied for the same thing as a volunteer at another website because I was interested in the subject matter. So I think I wrote quite a good post and sent it off as a specimen of my work.

I had a leisurely shave and a shower for once. Water makes me feel good. It’s why I enjoy swimming so much – or did when I had the time. When we are babies, we swim in our mother’s stomach. That’s why I love the water so much. It soothes me, it makes me feel relaxed and good about myself. It is comfort – a mother’s comfort. Water is woman. It is the same feeling of being loved. Love all over your body.

I watched a reel by Mia Khalifa on Instagram saying that men are easy and she has gotten every man that she has ever wanted because men are ‘cheap and easy’. Whereas she has turned down lots of men. So she isn’t. Maybe that’s how they think of themselves, these young women. It’s a triumph to hurt someone and turn them down because it makes them feel valued about themselves. And us men? We are nothing and not even worth having. It’s weird how gender dynamics work in this society. If I said that women were worthless and not worth having, I would be an incel, a misogynist. But because she is a woman, she can say what she likes and it is shared on public platforms and recommended on my feed.

Do you know what love is? When Matthew Perry (Chandler in Friends) found out that Julia Roberts had said she would only make a guest appearance on the show if he was in the scene, he sent her some red roses. And then they started faxing each other every day. That’s how they fell in love. That’s what love is. Love is commitment and communication.

Do you know what love is? After Napoleon Bonaparte became the man that he was – after he had been a poor immigrant with nothing – he met a woman that had rejected him when he was nothing and nobody. And he asked her why she had rejected him. That’s what love is. You don’t forget. Whatever happens.

But you know those stories? They don’t mean anything in this contemporary context. Do you know what love is now? Love is swiping on a dating app and meeting some stranger. Because the people around you keep you in constant reservation in case someone else better comes along. Because you are Indian.

Do you know what happened to Matthew Perry? He couldn’t believe that he was with Julia Roberts. He couldn’t believe that he could keep her. He was insecure. So he broke up with her in two months. And at the end of his life, he died alone. Even though he was starved of love. That is also what love is. It comes to weak men that can’t handle it.

Do you know what happened to Napoleon? When he became the man of the moment, he cheated on his wife and discarded her. That is also what love is. It comes to weak men that can’t handle it.

Love is not perfect. In love, you have your moments. The good ones and the bad ones. My friend who has had a wife for so long said that to me. Don’t assume that you are going to live in happily ever after even if you do find someone. You have to be able to work at it and commit. You can’t let your insecurities get the better of you.

I look at love and all of the barriers to it: gender differences, cultural differences, the way women have been indoctrinated in this society, what I have been brought up to believe women are like from movies and films and songs, the fear of these people, the inability to talk, rampant racism in society. Without the illusion that there is going to be a happy ending, without the need for a family, why would anyone want to be in love with anyone here?

But with love, there is nothing you can do about it. When you love someone, you just do it. It might be impractical, inconvenient, irrational, even wrong. You can watch how differently they treated everyone else to you and downgraded you. They can be unfair to you. But you still love them anyway.

The Three Women

30.03.2024

When I was in High School, we only had girls in the sixth form. I must have been about fourteen years old or something and we got an Italian descent girl that came into the sixth form. I still remember her name but I won’t write it here. She had her hair short and she had beautiful olive skin with brown eyes. She had a full figure. I admired her from afar. I used to write her love letters in Italian and get someone in the sixth form to send them to her. She liked my letters. She told the guy that they were nice. I couldn’t speak Italian. Back then, I spent hours and hours copying out a whole Italian language learning book from the library by hand into a notebook. And then, I would spend time writing her the poems using the rules and words in the notebook. I never spoke to her. But she knew who I was.

What has changed now? I write a letter to Helen every night. Wishing that she reads it. This is the only time we have alone if it is her. I am never with her. When I am with her, there are people there and no time. I want to believe that she likes me. I don’t believe. I want to believe. I want to believe that she is going to change her mind. But at the same time, I have accepted that she is not going to be with me. I say acceptance – you cannot kill hope.

At the same time, there is one other one that I like that came after Helen. She knows that I like her. That is enough. I will write no more. So that is two.

And then, most recently, there is potential girl. So that makes three.

So those are the three women.

I don’t have a type. Those women all come from different ethnic backgrounds. They all have different personalities. They all look really different to each other. Potential girl is the one that most looks like me – she has the same facial structure in the cheekbones. I saw it in a photograph of us together. The things they all have in common – they are all younger than me, they are immigrants (although one has been living here since childhood), they all talk a lot, are good at conversation and they are all kind. And they are all beautiful to me.

So they are the ones that I think about.

I know what everyone is thinking. You sound like a cheater. Why are you thinking about three different women at the same time? That’s because Helen and the one I like turned me down. But you can’t stop loving or liking someone just because they turned you down, especially when they are still in your life. I picked them for a reason: because I get on well with them and because they would make a good mother for my children. They have the potential to be the Queen in my life. I was or am good friends with all of them and I am attracted to all of them.

The Predictability of Unexpected Frustration; Cancelled Holidays; Why I Asked Helen Out: Scarcity and Abundance in Love; The Anger of Women as an Evolutionary Tool in Courting, Status and Ambition – The Depression of the Young

29.03.2024

heart dragon

flew the dragon
from the heart
fired the dragon
from the heart
the anger of the blood
was in him
the madness of the brood
was in him
flew the dragon
fled the pain
frolicked the fire
and fed the hunger

The whole day went fine. The journey home went fine. Then, just before dinner, I asked a question. And then my whole day was spoilt. When you have really built your hopes up for something, there is an inevitability about it not coming to fruition. When you depend on other people, often in life you are going to be disappointed.

So four days of my holidays are cancelled. I was going to go Italy. How long has it been since I have been abroad? And have I ever gone to a foreign country which it was me that picked? Never. So, I have to decide now. Either I can give up on this holiday. Or I can go somewhere by myself. And, for the first time in my life, I can go to a foreign destination that it is me that wants to go to.

I spent all day talking to my boss who is a traveller and she was recommending Sicily to me and the people I was going to go with. I was really getting into the idea of going.

You know, when you plan something with other people, this is almost always what it turns out like. When I say I am going to do something and I agree with someone, I never back out of it. At any cost. I see it through until the end. Even if it is the bitter end. That’s why I don’t actually really trust other people.

It is sad. Because recently, someone I knew for only a few months invited me on a holiday. And then people you have known for that amount of time are doing this to you. What do you expect out of people, really?

I’ve started getting used to the fact that someone is always going to ruin my day and my plans.

The first time I asked Helen out, we had stopped being together in that context. I missed her. She was the happy point in my life. So I asked her out so I could have her with me. Just me and her and no one else interrupting all the time. It was a solution to a problem of scarcity. But Helen doesn’t have the same problem that I do. There wasn’t a scarcity of happiness in her life. So the time that I was talking to her, I was just another man that was talking to her. And Helen does not lack an abundance of men talking to her. For me, she was special. For her, I was no one. That’s how love in this society operates. The women have the abundance of love. Maybe some men do. Not me. I haven’t had many women in my life or much love from them. What can you do? I am Indian. I was brought up in a white society. That’s what it was and is for us from them.

When a woman is angry at you when there is a suspicion of interest on one side or the other, does it have an evolutionary element to it as a successful strategy? Because when this woman is angry, for seemingly nothing, it makes you pay attention to her. You think about her. You start wondering why she was angry at you. You start doubting yourself. You have to conciliate her. So she gets the power. This is not the first time. It has happened many times with these young women in my life. Ones that I have liked and ones that I haven’t. Over what? Is it just a strategy to gain attention and control? What is so maddening about the way I talk and act? If I was really that bad, why do 99% of people not say anything about it to me?

The young people nowadays are suffering from mental illnesses and depression. It is not a good time to be young. And when you don’t have status and your ambitions aren’t being fulfilled, it stresses you out. Status gives you everything in this world: respect, love, admiration. But look at me. What status do I have? Yet I don’t get stressed out. You know why? Because I know that I am more intelligent than almost everyone else. That is my status. I know things that other people don’t know. I have observed and read. My ambition was to be more intelligent than other people and know more. I keep all my secrets to myself for the time being. Because why would I reveal them when I am not going to get any recognition for them? I’m not going to kill myself to try and cure ignorance and selfishness in this world – because you can’t. The world is ruled by the devil, like the Christians say. Someone might know more about specific things than me. But the things I know about are colossal and determine the ways that people think. Plus, the other thing is that I have achieved all my ambitions. When I wanted to be a teacher, I became a teacher. When I wanted a PhD and become a doctor, I became a doctor with a PhD. When I wanted to get the best results at sixth form and university, I got the best results. When I wanted to work in museums and art galleries and give tours, I got a job and did that. When I wanted to become a published author, I did that. When I wanted to be an athlete at school, I did that too. That’s why I don’t get stressed.

And what about not being able to meet someone I like that likes me back? Do I get stressed about it? No. I have been through a lot of psychological symptoms because of it. Maybe I am secretly stressed in my unconscious. But not in my conscious mind. Because there is a solution. Just like the situation with Helen when I asked her out, there is a very simple solution. Buy the babies from a surrogate mother. Forget about having intimate company with a woman. I just have to harden myself enough to do it.

And the other thing is, I know that I am a good catch. I don’t lack confidence in myself. I am handsome. I am well built and muscular and athletic, with lots of power and stamina. I am well read and cultured and educated. I am good at talking to other people and they find me interesting. I take care of other people. I try to be kind and polite and listen carefully to other people. And I stay clean and wear nice clothes and fragrances. I am good at looking after children and I put other people before myself. I am loyal and I don’t cheat. I work hard at my relationships. So if someone doesn’t like that or can’t see it, I don’t beat myself up about it. They can go with someone that can’t love them as much as I can just because of their money, status, skin colour and height. What else do you really expect from other people?

A Friend’s Birthday Drinks; When the Party Finishes; Burger Delights; In the Night; Love from an Indian-English Pair; Real Happiness

28.03.2024

Yesterday, I felt pretty low. I talked to her for five seconds in the whole day. And in that five seconds she attacked me. The genuine moment of happiness was when I was going home and picking up a free treat on my loyalty card at Marks and Spencers. I was thinking about who to give it to. First I thought of my work family. Then, as I was walking past the homeless guy in front of the train station, I suddenly decided to give it to him. The smile that lit up his face was the genuine moment of happiness in the whole day. Here was someone that didn’t have anything and they were happy with just an inexpensive bag of sweets that a stranger had given them. He smiled like it had made his whole day. When I am feeling low, giving something to someone makes me feel good. Because you share something with them and you feel like you are making someone happy. Even when you are not happy yourself.

I gave my tour which I wrote on request to an Indian man with a white woman and their child. They were so pleased with my tour that they kept on thanking me afterwards and they wrote some really lovely words on the feedback form. But what I think made them the happiest, although they wouldn’t say it, was that I told them that I was Indian as well and I talked about one of the posters which features Indian women.

I went to a friend’s birthday drinks. I told him yesterday that I would go but because I was upset yesterday I felt tired today. So I had to make myself go. Life is passing me by. I can feel it. Nothing is happening. No one loves me. I can’t meet someone that I like that likes me back.

But you know what, these people are my friends. I get on with them so well, especially the one whose birthday it was and another person there. I forgot about how tired I was around them. We learnt more about each other and we had a good time. I left the earliest though because there is a certain point in any of that kind of social gathering that I start missing the woman that is not there with me. You feel the ache of emptiness. You are going to have to walk home alone. You are going to have to sleep in your bed alone. There is no one there that you can call your special own. So I got up and left. And I rushed off so fast to get away from everyone that I left some stuff there.

The Tiger hunts alone. The world has denied Tiger the one thing that he wanted the most in his life. Love. So, Tiger is hungry and wounded. But without hunger, there is no Tiger. Without the wound, there is no aspiration to a cure. This is the fate of Tiger.

It was my friend’s birthday. It was an occasion. One of my best friends in museums and art galleries. So I treated myself with burgers at Burger King for a change after the drinks. They are the best. They are the ones that I have enjoyed the most since I was a kid. And, since it has been so long since I have eaten them, they were breathtakingly good. I really enjoyed myself. When you are sad and you don’t have a woman in your life, food is a substitute for a lot. You can’t hold her hand. But you can eat food. You can’t kiss her. But you can eat food. You can’t talk to her in your bed. But you can eat food. You can’t learn about her in an intimate setting with candlelight and music. But you can eat food. You can’t stroke her hair. But you can eat food. You can’t run your fingers down her arm and tickle her. But you can eat food. Food is something you will always have in this country, unless there is a major disaster. And it comforts you. Thank mother nature for chocolate and junk food.

Today’s highlight was the birthday party obviously. But also sharing some of my fancy chocolate biscuits I keep in my cupboard with some of the other friends I have in the museum. Even better than eating it yourself is to make someone happy with it for a moment. Sharing things. Sharing happiness.

In the night, I think of Helen. She is the one I have pillow talk with in this diary. Like a couple that talks about their day in the night in the bedroom. It was a busy day. Sometimes, you don’t think of her much the whole day. You feel like you are finally beginning to escape from her hold on you. But when the night comes and you are alone, that is when you miss her the most. Just looking at her once in the day makes your whole day, even if you think about how she has disappointed you. And when you don’t see her, your day isn’t really complete. But then, at night, you keep on remembering how she looked while she was talking to you. You replay the conversations in your head. The first one where I actually noticed her, when she was talking about the potential outbreak of a war in her country. Asking her about the watch that she wore which made me think that she was so stylish. Her reaction when I asked her how busy she was when she didn’t even have a boyfriend and didn’t live with her family. When she told me about an issue she was having with a sibling, which was the first time I thought that she trusts me with her personal stuff. The beautiful scene with the notebook when she jumped up and down for joy and clasped that book to her chest. When she ambushed me and her eyes burned with brown fire. When she was angry at me. When she talked to me in a different place and what she was wearing, those beautiful clothes. What is your life without your memories? Even if you think of them sadly?

I have forgiven my frenemy for how she treated me. I always forgive her. It is not her fault. She is sensitive and she is also young. She doesn’t know the problems I have had and I can’t write it here. She doesn’t know what she is doing. I’m just going to leave it and not say anything. Whatever she does, I think of her as my friend and I like her. Even more than a friend. As everyone says to me, I am soft when it comes to women. Too soft.

Frenemies; Encouraging Research; Suffering

27.03.2024

the tree of sadness

27.03.2024

a sudden bloom of doom

a heart stretched out

with limbs and fingers

poisoned toes

which strive

through the ground

and into the mind above

the tree of sadness

the structure of pain

burnt into your being

One of my frenemies – the main one – was mean to me. I thought since I hadn’t been around her for a while, she would have gotten over her anger. She is still angry and judging me and everything I do and say. The incident today was over literally nothing. You have to be careful when you become frenemies with a woman. She would never say what she said to me to anyone else there. She is sweet tempered and kind. It was really upsetting. I would like to say that she doesn’t know how much it hurts when someone you like is mean to you. But actually, she is doing it because she knows it upsets me.

So that ruined my day. When she said it, I had an awful sinking feeling in my stomach. I suspect the reasons why she is doing it. I keep my speculations to myself.

What can I do about it? Nothing. If a man spoke to me like that, I wouldn’t put up with it. But she isn’t a man. And she is sensitive. So the best thing is to just leave it alone.

Hopefully it won’t disrupt my sleep patterns as now I have been able to sleep again properly for the past few days. The last time someone I liked was intentionally mean to me, it took seven months to get better again. You know about it. You are reading my diary.

What she said keeps on coming back over and over in my mind. They think I am still young. When you are young, it doesn’t hurt so much. Because you haven’t had hurt upon hurt piled upon you. When they say that stuff to you, it brings all of the memories from before back. It is quadruple the blow. I hope they won’t have to experience it when they are my age.

If I ever upset anyone, it is unintentionally. I would never do it on purpose, especially to a woman.

I have been talking with someone that wants to do a PhD in my subject in English literature somewhere. She has an interesting project and I have been sending her a few short messages about suggestions I have and some links about stuff that I have been reading that might be relevant.. Today she sent me a little thank you note about it. She is a very friendly young woman. I would have appreciated the message more some other day, but life is what it is.

At least Helen is never mean to me. She has been angry at me. Very angry. Once. But she is not mean. But Helen is older. She knows what it is like.

Two friends are unwell. My friend couldn’t talk to me on the phone today because she was feeling so poorly. Another friend has had some really bad health news. I couldn’t catch up with her either. Suffering is everywhere around you in this world. I have only just got better myself. But nobody cares that I suffered and how I had to get through it by myself. That is this world. I had to keep it to myself and away from all of my friends and family until I got better and told two of my friends what happened. Because all they would say is I told you so – don’t mess around with the women in this country because you are different to them and why were you so stupid to do that stuff with these women here after what happened that other time.

Why? Because I want my kids. Because Helen wouldn’t say yes. She was the only one in my life that I wanted. At the time, there was no one else that I wanted. Everyone else is just a substitute for Helen and they all came later. If she said yes, I wouldn’t have even looked at any of these other women that are causing me these problems. I’m not blaming Helen. It is just a fact.

Drawing a Portrait

26.03.2024

Someone said something really nasty to someone I know today. Those same people who you want to see with a smile on their face and hear their laughter, those are the same people that someone out there is trying to hurt, to take the smile off their face and make them cry. It is a sad world out there. Someone told me that she cried which was upsetting.

The other day, I mentioned that one of my new friends drew a portrait of me in pen and ink. Today, I decided to return the favour. So I drew a portrait of her on my touchscreen laptop and sent it over to her. I did it in watercolours and pen and ink. I’m not going to share it here for obvious reasons – people are entitled to their privacy. When you work on a portrait of someone, it gives you a chance to study their face carefully. The shape of it. You construct it again with the lines, you look for what gives it that light within it. When the Indian poets and lyricists describe a beautiful face, they describe it as full of light. It is not a falsification – when I see a beautiful face, it really does shine with light. And that light is mysterious. Where does it come from? What does it mean?

Actually, I wanted to be a portrait artist and a portrait photographer. I am still thinking on whether I should invest in a very expensive camera to make it happen. Because the most interesting thing in the world is the human face. It is the thing with all the signs on it. It is the fount of communication. You learn how to talk and communicate by looking at your beautiful mother’s face for the most part. The thing that stops me? The ones with beautiful faces are not interested in being models for me. So what am I supposed to do? The only model I have is me. No one else. So it would just be selfie city.

I was almost late into work this morning because of the stupid tube line. I hate being late. Or being threatened with being late. Because I have been brought up to believe that punctuality is good manners. So sometimes, I arrive up to an hour early for work and things. I don’t understand how we have to put up with these ramshackle arrangements in supposedly one of the most developed countries in the world. The expectation levels here for service are so low. You see it all around you – poor customer service, poor delivery of product. What happened to pride in your work in this country? All the people seem to be ill trained, cowboys, half-hearted and work shy. Of course, most of them are just working for the money. They have no interest in their jobs. And they go to university and do a university course which they are not really interested in as well, most of them. But perhaps I am being harsh. Because I don’t hang around in super professional circles where they are probably all like me and have high standards for work.

It was a good day at work with the tours. Lots of good feedback. Everyone that does my tour tells me that they loved it. I wrote it myself, I worked hard in my spare time out of work to get it done. So it feels good to get the love. And I worked on an important message for women artists and women’s perspectives. Because what people don’t realise is that we are women. Ethnic minority men and Indian men. We are feminised. The traditional role of women has been given to us – rebels like Eve against God, the wellspring of a different knowledge, association with what is bodily and visual. You could keep on going on: equation with powerlessness and weakness, etc. That is why I have studied feminism. For us. Not to become a white, middle-class feminist who talks the talk of inclusion and diversity and then treats us like trash anyway while propping up white, middle class, oppressive structures in society.

Women keep on telling me that they don’t want to be seen as bodies. And me? I see myself as a body. I have worked hard on my body to become strong. I have been disciplined. I have been known for my body since I was a teenager. I have been known for my face since I was a child and my looks. Western philosophy says when you think of yourself as a body, you are supposed to be depressed. Because you see yourself as an object and Western culture has traditionally devalued the body in favour of the fiction of a soul. In my culture, your body is your income. Serfs and labourers are what we are. If you don’t have a good body, you die of starvation. For us, the body is valuable. For us, beauty is important. We come from the village, not the city. We come from a culture that sees the highest symbolism of things in the body like the idols of the gods and goddesses.

Should I really write about Helen any more? What is the point of it? But yet, we write. We think about her. Especially when it comes to the time to write this diary. I was looking at a little girl today and wondering what Helen was like as a little girl. When did she get the ambition to come to England? The country she comes from is beautiful (I haven’t been there, I am thinking about the photographs). Everyone says they come to England for the opportunities. But is that really true for her? She is obsessed with ‘independence’ like all of those young women. Why are they all like that? What did they have to do before their ‘independence’? They are not Indian. They didn’t even have to do anything. They are all Western culture people or Westernised. They didn’t do what we had to do for the family and to be in the family. Helen is mysterious like the rest of them.

Everyone says that my diet is weird. Today I had a box full of chicken wings. Everyone kept on saying that the amount of meat was too big. It is less than what I normally eat. There were no fries or coleslaw or anything. I eat a lot of food. Double most people. Why? Because I have the body of an athlete. Because I have a big brain which takes up a lot of energy. Because I exercise every morning and walk about a lot. If I don’t eat a lot, I get hungry quickly and then I get headaches. I have a very high protein diet because that’s what I need to keep going. My metabolism is fast.

Helen walks around a lot when I am around. Up and down. But I notice she doesn’t do it when other people are around. The meaning of it? Because I stopped talking to her. That’s when she started doing it. She keeps on walking away and coming back or closer. It is like the game of ‘fort-da’ which Freud observed when the child kept on staging ‘the presence and absence’ of his toys to compensate for the absence of his mother (Google search). This is what it is with her when I stop talking to her. If she thinks I am acting in a weird way, then she is also doing stuff. I am the kind of person that notices. Because Helen is the most interesting woman in the whole world to me. Of course I am going to notice things. I just don’t go on about it, especially in this diary. I have my speculations which I keep to myself. I observe.

The Festival of Colours

25.03.2024

My holidays are at the end of April. I have decided to give up on Scotland for the time being and go to Italy on holiday with family. I have said that when we get there, they can do what they want and then I will do what I want and we can just meet up at night time and in the mornings. The first two days of my holiday I will just spend with my friend in a driveable distance in the countryside and nature.

I was going to just go somewhere by myself but the thought of being a foreign country all by myself all day doesn’t particularly appeal to me.

Social Media stats:

300+ impressions on each LinkedIn Post
13 impressions on each Instagram Posts

I should actually just delete my Instagram account. It is useless.

It is the festival of colours today. Time to repair relationships and begin anew. And in fact, because I was around certain people for a while (why cover it up, Girl 3 and potential girl), I don’t feel that bad. Because even if nothing is going to happen with them, you can date them in your mind. I get on well with them. I like them. Just being around them, talking to them and looking at them makes you forget about your problems.

All my friends want me to give up on Helen. I have tried to give up on her three times. Twice by not talking to her. Once by going with someone else. Helen herself has never given me any encouragement. She has said no twice. Yet look at how stubborn and senseless the human heart is. Even now, as I am writing these facts down, I am thinking about being with Helen. I am waiting for her to change her mind.

If it is this hard to just take the first little baby steps, how hard would everything else be with her? But then, you make the excuses to yourself. She has some kind of situation. There is the thing I heard about her from someone that slipped out, whether I heard it or understood it properly or not, whether or not it is just a misunderstanding on my part or a false memory.

But maybe this is a false problem. Because she has to make all the moves now. So if she doesn’t, I can’t do anything. Those are the rules. I have already asked one more time than I am allowed to. So I just have to be around her, thinking about her and not being able to do anything. Otherwise, I would not only feel like I was bothering her, I would probably be bothering her.

Because Helen is like she is, because the situation is what it is, I am having to talk to other women. That I am not even interested in.

What am I doing to change my fate? I need to meet some new women somewhere that I am actually interested in. It is not working on the dating app. They like my profile. They even reply to my messages. But then, nothing happens. And what are they saying that is so interesting? All they are is pretty faces. It is boring and not satisfying. I have more intimate and satisfying conversations with the women I already know.

The only place I can think of is the dance studio. Someone told me not to go there and don’t use it for that. What does he know anyway? There is bound to be someone single there that I could be interested in. I really should go to the slow dancing with someone. Those celebrity women went out with the male dancers in Strictly Come Dancing even though they literally have nothing in common with each other. Because all love is is being around someone all the time on a shared project and that’s how you fall in love. Just create the intimate moments. I will be holding a woman around the waist. I will be holding her hands. We will be moving together in beautiful music, looking at each other. I am still good looking and I know how to talk to people. It is not rocket science.

I will have to think about it. Helen is extremely unlikely. Girl 3 is extremely unlikely. Potential girl is extremely unlikely. And I don’t want to ask potential girl out because if I do and she says no, I’m not going to want to talk to her again. And I’m looking at the lifestyles of these women that weren’t raised like me and I know it would be very difficult with them. But when you love someone, you make allowances for them and you compromise. If they let you – that’s the issue.

The problem for me and everyone else is that I have been raised like an Indian woman in a village. No staying out all night. No drinking. No pubs and clubs. No hanging around anywhere where there might be any women. I have been raised to stay at home and look after my family. To do things with the family. To think about the family first. And now, when it comes to having my own family, all that is creating is problems. When you become institutionalised, you can’t just get up and leave. It is who you are.

If the Indian women in this country could just have been attractive enough for me and didn’t have such arbitrary demands on me as a man, if there were more of us in this country that actually had arranged marriages so that you could actually have an actual choice with these women, I wouldn’t have any of these problems. But what can you do? You are stuck in the box that you are in.

So I can either do nothing. Or go to the dance studio. Unless I get a better idea from someone else. I will have to ask one of my friends at work what to do, some women that are just friends. Maybe they will be able to point me in the right direction.

Habit; Congratulations; Making Someone’s Day; Another Friend Goes; Cambridge University

24.03.2024

we-look-for-life Download

Habit is something. I made myself draw every night for years and years. So it has become a habit late at night. Now, six months into this diary and I have to write every night. Because I have gotten used to talking to Helen. Who else do I have in my life? And with her, what I have are my memories. She moves in her own world. I move in my own world. There is only memory:

two sparrows shared a meal of song
and then they parted
two crows jostled feathers
and then they went their own way
whether there will ever be
a reunion of what is scattered
a gathering of wings
is written on the sea
in the light of the moon in the clouds

I watched someone give an apology to a group of people today. I was wondering to myself whether anyone has ever said sorry to me in my life for the trash way they have treated me. I don’t think so.

I had a few successes over the past few weeks. People might think that I brag about things, but I am not going to mention this stuff. Let’s just say I was recognised. But do you think anyone congratulates me for anything? In the culture I have been raised in, you don’t get praise for your successes. Only criticism for your failures. Because your ego has to be kept in check. Even when I got the best results in sixth form, they didn’t celebrate it. Or for my PhD or the publication of my book or for my first class honours degree. The only person that congratulates me is me.

A lady at work told me that I had made her day because I remembered her and asked about her day. I thought to myself that it was quite sad if that was true. Because she had her family around her, she was out for a day, why would it make any difference to her if I remembered her or not and asked her something? It is funny the way that women’s minds work and what they say.

Another friend has left. So things will be worse than when she was around. I don’t like people going out of my life. People might think I’m cruel or unfeeling because I have taken some risks with two friendships over the past year and I have written that it makes no difference to me if they stop talking to me because they can’t let me be something more. Everyone in my life is subordinate to my future children now. They are the most important thing. And I don’t really want to talk to someone that can’t see me as a man. That is me being honest. I make myself do it. I don’t accept anyone devaluing me. They are wrong. Why should I accept the basis of their devaluation? They are doing it to me because I am Indian. They can say what they want about it. I know that if I was exactly the same and I wasn’t Indian, they wouldn’t treat me like that. I know. I don’t care how much people deny it.

The biggest disappointment in my life was not getting into Cambridge University when I was eighteen. I passed the interviews. I had two of them. I had all the requirements. I got all the grades. I got the best results in my sixth form. And they still wouldn’t let me into the university. They put me on the reserve list and then none of the colleges chose me. That’s this country. You can do everything that is required. But because you are Indian, they still won’t take you. My white friends got in. And then, it is the same with the women in this country. You either have to be white or act white to be with them. Otherwise, it doesn’t matter what you have, what you are, they still won’t love you. But I am not going to stop being Indian for any one. Because no one in this country accepts you as a British person. They recognise you as an Indian person and they will never accept you in this society. Because, like with Cambridge, when it is the important things, they just won’t let you have them. Positions, status, love, respect, a proper say, acknowledgement, a serious attempt to listen. It’s no good saying that a few people aren’t like that. No one can tell me that my experiences don’t exist. You can try and deny and try to make me out to be a liar. But that just shows what I am talking about – they won’t ever accept our perspective and our reality.

There is just one hour left of the waking day. Can I make myself read again? There is so much to do and learn. There is so much to achieve still. Life burns within these eyes and this heart. When I do force myself out of bed for work, I do things. Everyone knows it. I am trusted. People come to me for advice. They look at me as a role model. The challenge now is to get back up and fight in my own time. Motivation is flagging. What is the point of doing anything? But what about the unspoken promises I made to my community? They are looking for a hero. They are looking for success. They prayed for The Tiger to come into this world. Tiger has come into this world. I am known for performing. No matter what happens. The only break was when I was sick. I am not sick. So there is no excuse. It is time to man up again. It is time to be the Tiger once again. They expect. To be us, the superhuman is demanded. And we believe that we are superhuman. We become superhuman. You either have to be more of a man otherwise you become something less. There is one rule in this community of tigers and honour – hold your head up high for the community. As soon as you bow your head you have to live a life of shame and dishonour. You become what they want you to become so they can look down upon you and your people forever, rape your women, exploit your brothers, disrespect your children and the future, take everything from you so you have nothing.

So, to tomorrow. Every night, we say to ourselves, to tomorrow. Remember, you have promised. You are the Tiger. The outcome of the prayer. The people’s champion. Inquilab zindabaad! Inquilab saada zindabaad! Jai Maa Kaali! Long Live the Revolution! May the Revolution Live Forever! Hail to the Dark Mother Goddess!

Rough Day

23.03.2024

Rough day. Life is beating me up. I feel like shit. I actually literally feel like I have taken a beating.

When I went home, I couldn’t even listen to my music on the commute home. There was a problem with the headphones. You can’t even drown out the world. So I closed my eyes and shut everyone out.

I had to call up my friend in the evening to talk to her so I could feel a bit better. The thing about her is that I know that she loves me, so she always makes me feel good about myself. Her voice is soothing, she is kind. Kindness and comfort. I comfort her – she is ill. We comfort each other.

She told me to sleep with the angels when she said goodbye.

So now, I feel a little better. But the awfulness of life is still striking at me.

The last chapter in the book on relationships that I read confirms my experiences about love. At first, you think that the person you love is going to make you happy. Then, you find out something. That they are going to make your life fucking miserable. You are going to suffer. It is mental torture.

A long time ago, someone in my family told me that I wasn’t right to have a relationship outside of an arranged marriage. I got sick from something that happened after something that happened with a woman and then after my grandparents died one after the other afterwards. People are scared that it is going to happen again. I was sick for a long time. She has told me that you don’t understand what the women here are like. She knows. They don’t think anything about torturing you and punishing you. Wrecking your whole life. They would kill you if they could. They are not like us where you are with someone for life no matter what.

But because I am a warrior, I don’t have fear. I know that she is right. And even though I know that she is right, I am still going ahead with my plan. Because when you have fought for love in your life and paid the terrible cost for it and for your freedom, you can’t go back. No matter how tempting it is or convenient.

I have decided that I am going to have those children at any cost and the mother for my children at any cost. Even if I have to risk my health for it.

If I can’t get the mother for the children, I am going to have to buy the children and then alienate everyone around me.

One time in my life, after the illness, I gave up on the dream of love. I decided that I was just going to live by myself as a bachelor. That was over several years. I wasted my early thirties moping over what had happened. Then, one day, I decided that I needed my children. The question is, whether I decided too late to have a mother for the children. That is what I am investigating at the moment.

I am tired of my relationships with a lot of the women in my life. I have to hear all of their problems and issues. And where I don’t get anything out of it, I have to help them and advise them about stuff and listen constructively. And all the while, they are treating you like some kind of non-man, like I am some type of woman that is literally invisible as a man for them. And you know what? There is nothing that I can do about it. I’m going to have to keep on giving them that help and advice while I am not getting what I want out of it. A relationship. A family and children.

I don’t think of myself as a nice guy. But other people do. And what that means in this culture – it’s true what they say – is that nice guys finish last. But what can I do to change my personality? I’m used to listening to what people say and taking care of them. In our culture, we value kindness. You are supposed to be kind to people and help them.

My friend told me about a guy that was after someone when she was young. He used to cycle miles and miles to see her. And she didn’t want him. But now, sixty years on, she thinks about that person sometimes. And she realises that he was goodness itself. He would have loved her properly and taken care of her. When you are young, you don’t realise who really loves you and the value of someone. Because for her, he was too earnest. He didn’t play the game. He wasn’t crafty. He didn’t hide his feelings and play hard to get. He was honest. They hate your honesty. They hate that you care about them. All my friends have told me the same thing. Pretend that you don’t care about them.

Well, this is life. Nothing helps. Nobody can help you. Destiny itself is against you.

I was in the Gardens the other day. When the artist Marianne North’s father died, her only companion in the world, she didn’t talk to anyone. Like me when my grandmother died. But then, one day, in her forties, she decided to challenge the conventional views of women at the time and she embarked on a worldwide adventure to paint plants. I was standing in her gallery amongst her paintings and I felt like crying. I didn’t. I know what she went through. And I made a mistake. I didn’t do what she did. I didn’t give up on the world and go to foreign countries. There is no place for me in this culture. There is no place for me in any culture. Anywhere I have gone, I have never belonged. Other people are not like me. I am different to everyone else. And when you are different, you suffer. There is nowhere for you. You never fit. I have a few close friends I can talk about things with. Because they think deeply. They are kind people. But there is no one to make my own world with, my family and children. I have looked in so many different places.

I just want to walk away from everyone and everything. But I can’t. I am chained to my life and my responsibilities. I daydream about being in jail away from everyone. Or in a mental asylum. Or on a cruise ship. Or living in a lighthouse or looking after a millionaire’s property. Somewhere where I am completely alone. I don’t have to talk to anyone in these conversations where you can’t have a private, personal conversation. I don’t have to talk to people who are never going to love you, that don’t value you, that can’t even see you as a man like they can see some stranger that they have known for just a couple of weeks. Where I don’t have to talk to someone who just thinks that you are never going to be good enough for them.

HOLIDAY: Jealousy; The Mental Image of Helen; The Gardens and its Strangers; Merciless Fate; The V & A Late; Body Language on the Tube

22.03.2024

Even the people that read this diary probably think I should stop writing my thoughts about Helen. So what? In the same way I can’t force her to love me, she can’t stop me loving her, thinking about her and writing about her. When she stops reading, I will stop writing. I feel it is her reading in the nights. What have I said about her that is untrue or mean or unfair and unjustified?

Was Helen jealous of that young, beautiful woman I kissed yesterday? Well if she was, that is how I feel when I think of her being with anyone else. Except, for me, it is much worse: nausea and choking. And she has no right to be jealous. Because it is her that has chosen. Not me. Her. If I had my choice, she would have been with me for the past year and we would be planning our family already.

What is the mental image that I have in my head of Helen? It was just after I hadn’t talked to her for several months because I had decided that I was never going to talk to her ever again. And then, I had had to change my approach. She was sitting there. I nodded at her. She lowered her head with her black eyes fixed on mine in an exaggerated and formal manner. There was something incredibly cautious about the way she was looking at me. Her eyes were wary. There was a wary line of tightness about her mouth. She was looking at me like a defenceless person would look at a dangerous predator. Sometimes, I think of that look and, honestly, I laugh to myself. Because this is just normal life and it has taken on the dimensions of a tragedy. We have both become drama queens. Why am I in this situation right now? Why is life so fucking fucked up? Why do other people have an easy and carefree life and I don’t?

Today at the Gardens, I talked to so many strangers to help them around and point out things to them. My life, for the most part, is just talking to strangers. When you want someone that isn’t a stranger to talk to, where are they? I am talking about a woman. That has a romantic interest in me. How can this planet be full of more women than men and I am having a problem finding someone? It doesn’t make any sense. Especially since I am around people all the time. Where are all the people my age? They are all in relationships or the type of people that don’t really want to be in a relationship. All the young people are scared of you because you are older than them. Then you have to factor in racism, discrimination against my height and the fact that I’m not a stupid drunk. And being friend zoned because you are ‘nice’. Final result? No women around you.

I was thinking about someone today that just has bad luck all the time. Bad things happen to them and the people around them. What have they done to deserve this merciless fate? Some people’s lives are just suffering. What problems do I have in my life? Helen and her no. The personal problems I won’t write here. The plastic is falling off my headphones and it got all over my chest and my shirt and scarf. It gets in my hair and on my face and on my ears. But am I the type of person that will throw away some perfectly good headphones because of that? No. Because I am not a wasteful person. I will have to make do with them.

As you can see from the photographs above, I went to the V & A Late after the stuff I did in the Gardens today. The music was amazing and I was watching a performer dancing. As soon as a woman starts dancing, you are mesmerised. I was looking at her bare stomach and her face as she twirled around and gyrated on the floor. The body in motion. The body becoming a system of signs and music. When they dance or sing, you become theirs. Before, you wouldn’t even look at them. It is well – they like dancing. It’s one of the occasions where they can let all their repression out.

Some woman sat down on the tube at an angle to face me instead of looking forwards. She was uncomfortably and directly pointed at me. I’ve actually mentioned before that it sometimes gets on my nerves that everyone around me acts like I am good looking all the time and I am still having trouble finding someone that likes me and that I like back.