The Journey to Recovery

14.05.2024

you want to fight until you fall

you want to stand

until your feet form roots in the ground

until you sense the deep waters below

you want to swoop down

catch the fish in your beak

you want to demolish every wall

every door

that stands in the way

you want to rip the air with the knife

but all you can do is to sit

sit at your desk

tapping some keys

the dance of the fingers

trying

just one little poke at the world

just one little push

you are not standing

I can get up early in the mornings again. It has been a week. It took me eight months to get here – that’s how long the journey to recovery took.

Psychologists can’t define what resilience is. It is me. No matter how shit things get, I bounce back. The Tiger stays alive, angry and hungry. Because he has cubs to give, produce and raise, so that The Tiger can live again in the future through them. Loyalty to the dawn of time and the origins of what is now called India dictate the resilience of The Tiger. Love for The Tiger dictates the life of The Tiger. For love, you would burn in hell for the thing or the one that you love. Without a moment’s hesitation.

Do you want to know what it looks like to be sick in the disappointment of love and the suffering of death? It wrecks your body. It wrecks your mind. This is what I looked like when I had my long illness:

And yet, here I am. Full of energy and power. Because I have self-respect, love for us as a people, strength and the ability to overcome suffering and transcend death. I have been raised in the religions of power.

And there is still the mission. When he was dying, Nelson said ‘Thank God I have done my duty’. The mission is still there before me.

And? Helen is still in my life. Girl 3 is still in my life. While they are in my life, there is still the hope. I am watching and waiting. I haven’t forgotten. I don’t forget. They are women. They change their minds. They can be won over. Soft water on a hard stone, drop by drop. Patience. Carefully, carefully. There is a chink in the armour. She reads this diary every night. Her mind is open to me.

Leander swam to Hero every night across the Hellespont so that he could love her. And Leander knows that Hero is the priestess of Aphrodite, the goddess of love. She worships love.

Day Off – How Do You Capture a Distinctive Portrait?

09.04.2024

The Cosmic Dance – Kali dances on Shiva as this is the only way to contain her bloodlust and destruction.

What can I say? I love Kali. So every woman I love becomes Kali. And I become Shiva. It is fate. It is the cosmic dance.

……

Easy. Simple. Unimaginative. There is a preconception amongst some of the non photographers that a portrait is nothing much. Not a real exhibition of skill. Especially the selfie.

Yet the way that you pose and the way that you present yourself to convey your identity is a skill. Whether you want to look appealing or hostile, whatever emotional bond you want to create with the viewer through the craft.

Today, I took it to the basic level. I held the camera at arm’s length in front of me and pushed the button. The magic of technology.

How did I convey my identity?

First off, I posed in front of the bookshelf which is my library. So that indicates that I am a reader.

Then, it was time for the framing. I chose to cut off bits of my face. To add the mystery. It is a technique taken from Japanese art too – I volunteer at a Japanese art gallery. Japanese art itself is influenced by India and Buddhism. So there is that happening there.

Lighting is positioned to catch in the eyes which have been described as my best feature by others, not just women. These eyes are the eyes of my grandfather. It is the family connection. Eyes themselves are described as the ‘windows into the soul’.

The face is filled with light to alleviate the appearance of wrinkles – I am standing next to the window. Light creates a flattering portrait.

In one portrait, I look into the camera. Intimacy. A direct and confrontational challenge. We stare into each other’s eyes. The aggression. The other two images, I look away. The creation of distance. The air of introspection. The books in the background add to that idea of the introvert.

No props. The face fills the frame. There is no distraction. The complete focus is on me. Therefore, the images become intense and illustrate my intensity.

All considered decisions. Yet, the portrait itself is regarded not only as a vulgar, but also narcissistic form. Even though we always present ourselves in our best light to other people. At least in public.

……

Called my friend in the morning who is recovering from the operation for support. She is still suffering. When I call her, she doesn’t want me to go. I said bye about four times. That is what love is.

Contacted my mentor who is recovering from cancer to hope his operation goes well.

Leg is fucked. But the doctor got in touch so I called back because I missed the call as I was talking to my friend. No appointment. But they will call again tomorrow to try and sort one out. How fucked is the leg? Painful. Swollen. But I still ran on it to get to the bus and I caught it. So how fucked is it actually? If you believe in your body and you have mental strength, you are invincible. The Tiger is capable of smiling whatever happens. And helping others despite anything. I have been raised to be a hero and a warrior. There is a saying in India: Men don’t feel pain.

Writing about the Japanese art for the Japanese art gallery in the morning. Then, wrote an article about Indian film songs for the new volunteering space. Then I wrote some new tour excerpts for some other plants for the Gardens. So all the volunteering stuff is done. About four hours invested into art, education and culture and to save the world by inspiring people about plants, climate change and the environment.

Bought some books on history and the V & A and its history at the charity bookshops in the local area. That was one hour gone – that’s why I had to run for the bus.

Bought some lilies for myself and my mother – I walked down. Another forty five minutes. As I walked, I admired the gardens in the local area. It is the time of growth.

I took the photographs, made the artwork. But what would the day be without a poem about Helen? Here it is. For her. Even if she is not reading.

she is always late

she hangs around the people

that are always late

time is not something she really thinks about

or they think about

because they are young

and their dismissal of time

is a part of them

and I who watch the clock always

feeling time’s hot fangs and breath behind me

I who waited patiently forever for her

for nothing

I for whom time is slowly running out

to do the things that must be done

I who does not have any time with her

I wonder at her dismissal of time

Waffling; The Young V & A; Suit Kills it Again

18.01.2024

An event tonight that I’m working. So I’ve written the diary for the day before it begins.

I wore the black suit again. Everyone complimented me on it again – about six people. Everyone loves this black suit on me. That’s why I wear it. It isn’t my favourite, but it is lucky for me because of the effect it has on other people.

I was somewhere where I heard a lot of waffling and no doing. So I had to cut through the waffle and get the people doing. Of course, they listened. People almost always listen to me precisely because I don’t waffle. I was thinking about the psychology of the waffler. This individual believes that talking for the sake of talking is appealing to the audience. This person believes that the more they talk, the more attention they will get, the more they will please people, the more they think that people will credit what they are saying. This might work on someone else. It doesn’t work on me. I am only interested in content, practicality and what works to get the result. It doesn’t matter how many words you use. Always focus on the result. That’s why you are talking in the first place – to get that result.

The waffler lives in a world of distraction and diversion, with no focus. They meander about, achieving nothing, accomplishing nothing. The waffler is not just like that in conversation. Their lives are like that as well. Their lives have no direction, no purpose, no destiny. No real meaning or significance. And, believe me, my life is not that of a waffler’s life. In literature, waffling is permissible. Because there is a larger purpose that you achieve no matter what with the work, a deeper meaning. In conversation, waffling has no meaning. It is just an arbitrary flow of words that don’t really go anywhere.

I had a look around the Young V & A in the morning. I got there early and had to walk around in the park in the freezing cold. So I was pretty chilled when I got in. It is such a cool space. The architecture looks so fresh and lively. I was really impressed as soon as I walked into the building.

The most interesting exhibits for me were the ones about the different building materials with a focus on sustainability. And also, I loved looking into the model houses. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a model house with all the little people and the little bits of furniture and furnishings inside? There is something so satisfying looking into that perfectly constructed world, something so happy about being in that world. Perhaps it is the illusion of the panopticon – where you can see everything within. Perhaps it is because the idea of the home is a happy idea. It is a cherished space, after all.

There were some nice people that I talked to in the place – they recognised me from one of my other work places! A lot of people recognise me at cultural venues around London nowadays – it is a small world, even though there are so many people.

A little poem to finish off with:

she does not see the gold

she cannot feel the diamond

a veil is across her eyes

blunting gloves across her fingers

I do not even hope that

one day

she will be undeceived

I do not even hope that

one day

she will sense my feelings bereaved

the gold lies all untouched

the diamond gathers dust

the veil swims over her eyes

the gloves pinch her fingers