24.03.2024
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!
diary of a lone man 
