Being told to keep my intentions secret

05.05.2024

Everyone keeps on telling me that I will scare off and offend women if I say that I want to be in a relationship to have children and start a family. And they told me not to mention that I wanted children for the bloodline and the dynasty because that makes me sound patriarchal.

What is so wrong with what I am saying? Even the animals only want to have their own children. They don’t look after the children of other animals. It is natural to want your own.

Scientifically, we have ‘the selfish gene’ which wants to clone itself through offspring. Our bodies are geared towards sex and the purpose of that is to have babies. All I am saying is what is natural.

Culturally, the family is the unit of society. Why wouldn’t I want to extend the unit for my own family and dynasty?

I don’t understand this new generation of people. Literally, in the Bible, even in Western culture, it says that you should marry to have children. How have things changed so much for these Western people that what I am saying now is literally wrong?

It is not like I literally just see women as bodies to bear children. It is not like I only see them one-dimensionally as mothers. After all, you are not attracted to anyone. You are attracted to them for their personality and who they are as individuals.

In my view, it is lying to pretend that you don’t want a family when you are getting into a relationship to have a family. That is the main reason. You can get company from women that you like everywhere. What if you want something more than that? What if you want to build a future with them?

This culture and its values and its way of talking and thinking is incomprehensible to me. All you do is lie and cheat in relationships here. What happened to honesty?

Let me tell you something. What you want is never wrong, unless you want to commit a crime. It is not a crime to want your own family for your dynasty and your bloodline. There is nothing wrong with it. So why am I being told off for wanting it, thinking it and saying it? Just because other people don’t think the same way as me? It is not a secret. It is not shameful. In my view, it is not even private information, over-sharing or inappropriate. Yet I am being told to keep it as a shameful secret. That’s this culture for you.

Do I care if people think I am sexist and patriarchal? No. Because I am not. Not only have I taught feminism in schools, but I have written and given tours about it. I have helped women with their studies and their career ambitions. I have recruited women for roles at university. If I have chosen in my personal life to find someone that will prioritise the family and give me a child, I don’t think that makes me sexist or patriarchal. And I don’t agree with what Western feminism tries to say anyway. You are a body. I am a body. The body is the basis of our being. That is what science and psychology persuasively suggest based on empirical evidence. Science tells us that nature has decided that our main role in life is to have offspring based on analysis of evolution and animal behaviour. Not to go to the restaurant and chat with someone the whole night for ‘company’ which goes nowhere and doesn’t create any results for the good of society or anyone.

If other people want to waste their time on ‘company’ which goes nowhere, that is fine. Go ahead and do it. No one is judging you. So why judge me for wanting to produce results? This new society is incomprehensible in so many ways.

Today, I kept the whole evening free. I have been feeling depressed and exhausted over the past few days. But today, I feel fine. So I am just going to do some reading.

Holiday Day 4: Wakehurst Kew Gardens and Oxted

29.04.2024

my mind is i think about you

my tongue is i talk about you

my ear is I ask for advice about you

my heart is I love you

My friend’s advice is never to write about Helen again and only talk about the other women in my life. He said that she is not going to value you unless you are going out of her life. But this diary is itself a conversation with Helen. Otherwise, it is redundant.

I woke up early in the morning and started doing my art history assignment. It is taking so long to do this one piece of work. I’m quite happy with what I have done so and it only needs minor amendments. I have a whole day to finish it off coming up soon.

My friend picked me up in the car and we made our way down to Wakehurst. A few ideas we discussed were having recycled English so that people could re-use it – just quoting from other people. Another one was my daydream of making a shirt from scratch: designing the pattern, making the cloth, dying it, cutting it up and sewing it all together. Other wacky ideas I have: creating a jelly and ice cream shop in London with exotic ingredients that you couldn’t get at other places. Other topics of conversation: the appeal of Sherlock Holmes, hydraulics and lake management, all the things I want to study and don’t have time for, how many books we had in our libraries at home. We talked about The Secret History with Donna Tartt where they all study Ancient Greek as a community. I told him how much I loved that book because I studied Ancient Greek at school and I was obsessed with Ancient Greece and the ancients myself as a youngster.

Wakehurst was amazing, with all these beautiful views that you can see. We started off in the Millenium seed bank – the conservation work which is what led me to Kew Gardens.

The two women at the ticket desk gave me a very wry look as we went in and even my friend noticed them both looking at me. He commented that I looked like a super rich person. It is an observation that other people have made before. One woman told me that my face just looks like cash. Another guy told me recently that I dress like a millionaire.

I had chilli con carne in the cafe and later some chocolate fudge cake even though I started off the trip with a triple chocolate muffin.

Today, all I could think about was Helen and having her with me in Wakehurst. Libido is up to massive heights.

I sat in a birdwatching observatory with my friend for perhaps the first time in my life across the lake but the most birds we saw were sitting in front of a swathe of trees.

We left Wakehurst at about five and went down into Oxted. We had quite a journey up the hill. We travelled through some quite boggy grass and then up a steep hill which was about 45 degrees we guessed. Then through some thorny undergrowth and obstacles up to the top. It was an amazing view though, even though I couldn’t get a good photograph of it on my smartphone.

We had dinner in an Indian restaurant with a group of young women that were celebrating a birthday. I ordered too much food and had to get it bagged up to take home at the end.

I was falling asleep on the way home, but I know that Helen is probably reading my diary. So I have made an effort to put together the photographs and to write this blog. Because I have gotten used to sharing my day with her. I still love her. I think of her as mine. I want to tell her every night that I love her and think about her. Maybe she will change her mind about me.

Holiday Day 3: Four Museums, Five Exhibitions

28.04.2024

Me standing next to the poster of Mother India, the film I got my name from. In real life, her co-actor Sunil Dutt saved the actress playing Mother India from a fire which broke out. Her name is Nargis, a flower – why women are flowers for me. They fell in love when she looked after her hero Sunil (her son on-screen) in the hospital.

The purple flower is broken – purple for Athens, my identity at school was Athenian in Athens house… 💜

The Valentine’s card made thinking about Helen this year.

Museums and a charity bookshop aside from copious amounts of art history study, where I managed to make myself well into the assignment (still 3 hours of wake time left since it is only 20.38 as I am writing). Here’s the itinerary:

1.British Museum – Greece, India
2.The Wellcome Collection – Jason and the Adventure of 254, The Cult of Beauty
3.The British Library – Beyond the Bassline: 500 Years of Black British Music
4.The National Portrait Gallery – The Time is Always Now: Artists Reframe the Black Figure, Francesca Woodman and Julia Margaret Cameron: Portraits to Dream In

I will write about each of the exhibitions in due time – all except for The Cult of Beauty.

What can I say about the cult of beauty? In reality, Helen is the most beautiful woman in the world to me because she was kind to me. It was her behaviour that I was attracted to. She is beautiful. There is no question. But I did not notice her when I first met her. The effect was over time based on her behaviour. It is the same with all the women that I am interested in right now. Over time. That is the essence of beauty in real life – beauty through relationship.

As I was looking at Greek art and Indian art, I was struck by a curious thought. We all know that the ancient Greeks got a new confidence when they defeated the might of the Persians. It shaped the racism that was to come afterwards. I have been shaped similarly. I have been shaped by the Indian Independence movement when we beat the British. Because the quest for me is still freedom. I don’t believe that India has got it yet. Because the nation is not freedom. The Western law is not freedom. Anarchy is freedom. The village is freedom. Self rule in its unmitigated form. Dharma, not law. Freedom is still to be achieved. Freedom is still to be fought for. The war is not over yet. The scholar is still in the war. I am still being shaped by the past victory to consolidate our position. It is not suspicion – it is fact. The prize is still for the taking. Remain The Tiger. Don’t break. Tiger is still alive. Tiger has been alive for six thousand years and will live until the end of time. For freedom from oppression.

I am shaping to the new layout in my room. A new place to think and to dream and to create. I stare at the bookshelf for inspiration. I stare at it with love. It is what I want to become. So many books to read. So many things to learn. Hope springs eternal. Ambition is undefeated. The dream of education.

I saw the Rosetta stone today. I saw it with Helen. We read it together. I still have my memories if nothing else.

I compared the ‘Crouching Venus’ with the ‘Crouching lions’ in the Nereid monument. The woman is defensive, the lion is aggressive. The woman retreats from the gaze, she is hiding. The lion is fierce display. The woman is shame, the lion attack. The woman looks as though she is not moving at all, the lion looks like it is just about to flash like lightning. Which one, though, is the more powerful? That shame will douse any flame from any man. When you see them shrink from you as though you were a wild beast, all you feel inside is dismay. The lion, you would fight with. With the woman, you have to turn away.

I saw Michelangelo’s Pieta in the shop and I really wanted it. I am looking for a sculpture in my room now there is space so that I can be like Freud who collected these curios. My statues of the Hindu gods and goddesses are in the corner we have made for my mother to worship. I won’t get a female nude because of my mother, of course. The naked Kali she tolerates because that is the religion. I will have to find something else that I am interested in.

I got a finial bangle of some Egyptian cats to wear. One of my friends told me to get a bracelet a while back instead of getting my ears pierced. It was expensive, but what do I work for anyway if I am never going to spend the money? I have wanted one like it since I was a kid but never got round to it. I love finial bangles and torques. I was going to get the lion one first – my middle name is ‘Sim’ which means ‘Tiger’ from the Sanskrit word ‘Simha’ like the god ‘Nar-Simha’ (Man-Tiger). The word is the same for ‘Tiger’ and ‘Lion’. However, I got the cat, because the Tiger is a cat too. And I liked the design better and it was more visible than the lion design. The woman serving me helped me to put it on and take it off, although she actually looked like she didn’t want to serve me. That’s kind of what you expect from a lot of these women. The one in the charity bookshop was exactly the same. Why do you work in retail and customer service if you don’t actually want to even talk to someone when they are engaged in a one minute talk with you?

Books I’m interested in that I saw:

How to be a Renaissance woman – the role of women in chemistry and botany as they made make up for themselves
Plant Life – laser cuts and flaps in this children’s book

I was watching the dancing hands of an Indian woman as she was talking to her husband or boyfriend on the tube as I got back. It was an energetic dance. I had my headphones in and wouldn’t have understood her language anyway. All you can do is observe as an outsider and speculate on what they are talking about and why her body was moving like that. Next to me, a very beautiful Indian woman was sitting there. She was the most beautiful woman I saw all day. She looked at me as I was getting off, then walked past me as I stood on the escalator. As I passed through the barriers, I saw her walking towards the end of the tunnel. Believe it or not, I started walking fast – it was a race. I wanted to see if I could get past her. Before she finished going up the stairs, amazingly, I managed to get past her. I won the race. How could she beat me? I have the body of an athlete. I can walk as fast as some people can run. Why did I race her? I’m an athlete. I’m competitive. I don’t like anyone beating me. Helen has won. She beat me. But that is something I can’t do anything about. Because in the arena of choice, the women are the queens in this country.

Astounded by how silent London is when you are a lone bachelor around the town. The only people that talk to you are other men – quite a few in the tube today and then one in the shops on the way home as I was carrying flowers. No wonder so many men are desperate for female company. Luckily, I work in the industry that I work in which is full of beautiful women to talk to.

Why don’t I just buy myself a wife from India and the children will come? People have asked me. People tell me to do it all the time. Why not? Because I have principles. Because I am a lover, not a buyer. I am not going to buy someone with my British passport and my superior wealth to them. Despite this culture calling us Indian men misogynistic pigs (when they are misogynistic themselves), I believe in choice. Not arranged marriage with its casteism and its inequality. And because I want someone that I can talk to things about – someone who has had access to art and culture and the frame of reference that I know about and have studied for them to talk to them. I would rather go it alone than compromise on love and my principles. But what do I get for having principles: the treatment I get from women here in this country. You can’t win, whatever you do. Not if you have been raised like an Indian man in a white culture.

The Holiday Begins: Teasing; Investment; Absence and Reunion; Reader Surprise; What I Read Today

25.04.2024

when

through the window

my mind connects with yours

when

you read my words

about how I think of you

and when you think of me

when our two looks

collide

in this moon of electronic paper

what do you feel inside

if it is not love?

Just now, at about this time that I am writing, someone – probably Helen (I assume) – checked if there was a new diary entry. Whoever it is that is reading almost without fail every night is so used to reading this diary. It has become a habit with them. Has this person ever asked themselves why they are so interested in me and my thoughts? Maybe, if it is Helen, she wants to know what I am writing about her every night. It has been seven months. Every night, I think of something new to say about Helen. Every night. I love her. It is like the Arabian Nights in real life. But the storyteller is not a woman that is about to have her head cut off. It is a man that has had his heart ripped out. The one that is holding it in her hand is the one that is most likely reading every night. Maybe, one day, she will give that beating heart back. But you wonder, what is she waiting for? If it is her. Who knows? In this relationship, like with all things with Helen, everything is unequal. She has anonymity. I don’t. I am the one that invests the time into writing, which takes much longer than reading. I am the one that loves at a cost. She receives the love for free. She has to do nothing for it.

My holiday has begun after work finished at 6pm. I rushed down to the Wellcome Collection for the Cult of Beauty Exhibition. With comic predictability, it rained. With comic predictability, the Collection was shut down because the toilets and the water weren’t working. The trains were messed up when I tried to get there too. This is what happens when I have a holiday. I am unlucky. It affects every aspect of my personal life and my relationships.

I went to Waterstone’s on Gower Street instead. Amazing haul of books today. One of my favourite places in the whole world.

Everyone that is close to me at one of the places I am at teases me. Especially the young women. They all pretend to be mean to me. It is so much so that other people comment on it. As I always say, what have I done to deserve this treatment? I am a nice person. But it is all in jest. But when I tease someone? The last time I did it, I got told off for it – in serious trouble. I am still in the bad books for it. That is the difference between different contexts and if it is a man that is doing the teasing or a woman.

Discussion with someone about types of investment. Some make financial investments. Some, like me, make an investment into education. I was told that my education was an investment into myself. But it is actually an investment into our people. There is a reason I have had one of the best educations in the entire world. It is for us as a people. For the Dalits, the Untouchables, the community of the oppressed. We who were denied education to keep us down. They prayed for a mind like mine to come into this world. For us. To be our voice. To be The Tiger. The Tiger has come into this world. The Tiger has become an author. Someone who writes our values. Our way of life. Our hopes and our desires. For us. By us. As myself, I am no one and nobody. As The Tiger, I am Us.

I saw someone after a while. I missed her. Everyone missed her. She is like Helen and Girl 3. She is one of the darlings of the place. Everyone wants to talk to her, be around her. Life is a popularity contest and some people win in it. When they go, there is a vacuum which can’t be filled.

Someone at the place saw me as they were walking past and told me that they read my blog entry on an exhibition. And that it was really good. I was caught by absolute surprise. You never know who is reading what you have written. And why. It was the same when I was doing my PhD. I used to share stuff on the Whatsapp group for PhD students. And, believe it or not, these busy busy people, who I didn’t even talk to, all used to read my blog. It is incredible.

The long-awaited holiday has come. So today I was able to relax and read on the tube. And what did I read? An introduction to some travel memoirs and the history of the Indus river which flows through the Subcontinent. And then, an introduction to plants, their lives and how they have impacted the human imagination.

The Sense of Injustice; Giving my Tour to Schoolkids; What Happens to You When a Woman Says No

24.04.2024

You are wondering. Yes, I thought about Girl 3. Yes, I was sad today. Yes, I thought about Helen. Yes, I was sad about her too. Yes, I thought about Potential Girl. And then, I also thought about the new interest in my life. If you are reading, I think about you. In your mind, you are free. You can think what you want. Nobody can take that away from you. And no one can take love away from you.

What happens to me when a woman says no to me when I ask her out? I stop talking to them. I avoid them. Why would you want to be around them after that? They don’t value you. Even when you try to force yourself to talk to them, you can’t any more. They obviously didn’t care that much about talking to you. They weren’t connected to you when you thought that they were connected to you. You don’t want to bother them with your presence when they are not even interested in you. And? You are disappointed in them and angry with them. Because you thought they liked you. But they didn’t. They don’t see you as a man. Anyone can say anything they want about it. Everyone says to me that you are wrong for not talking to them. People can say what they like. Where is the motivation to talk to them after that? They have just stuck a dagger in your chest. They hurt you. A lot. You have suffered. And then, these people want you to joke around with them and act as if nothing has happened, that you don’t care? This is this culture. A culture of lies and pretences. Where you are not even allowed to mourn in peace without someone destroying your mental composure by being right in front of you and you are never allowed to even touch them or be connected with them in any way.

I read a psychology article recently which argued that if you hold onto a sense of injustice, that it destroys your mental health. Look at the bullshit of this society. You have to hold on to the sense of injustice. Otherwise there would be no justice in this world. There would be no change, no revolution. Look at the sciences and the thinking of this so-called civilised society. They want to keep us down. They want us to spit out our anger. We won’t. It is what we are. Do you think Gandhi let them fuck him over with their injustice? Do you think he forgot about it? That is why there is an India that is not lorded over by the British. He didn’t think about his ‘mental health’ that this article is talking about. He didn’t care about himself. He cared about us. The people. For the people, your life is nothing. Your pain is nothing. Your blood is nothing. Everything is for freedom and justice and truth. And if you can’t sacrifice everything, then you are not a man and you are definitely not The Tiger. And we are The Tiger. That is what Punjabi men are known for. So we hold on to injustice. We hold on to our humiliation and the dishonouring of our mother. This is not Western ‘knowledge’, it is Indian duty. Jai Maa Kaali! Inquilaab zindabaad! Inquilaab sada zindabaad! Hail the Dark Mother Goddess! Long Live the Revolution! May the Revolution Live Forever!

20 schoolchildren. That’s how many I had for my tours that I have written about women, fairness and art history. The first group was amazing. They had this woman teacher that could read my mind. She was fantastically clever. Everything that I was saying, she got straight away because she told me that she has also been trying to shape the children according to feminism. So we worked together as a team shaping the minds of the children. If you want a teacher, that is the kind of teacher that you want in life. Someone that cares about justice and has social commitment. She was so pleased with my tour that she brought me over another group of schoolchildren so that I could deliver the tour to them! That was the proudest and happiest moment of my tours there in that context. And I hope that the seeds have been planted for the future.

The holiday is on. Two days with my friend, then about four days by myself. It is going to be amazing. Friday is just coming. I am excited.

Paris’s Love for Helen

20.04.2024

husn tera hai nangi talvar

your beauty is like a naked sword

jido haath lagein

when I put my hand upon it

to ghayal ho javein

then I am wounded

aankhein teri

your eyes

ekh aag

a fire

jis mein hum raakh ho javein

in which I become ash

aag he aag

only fire only fire

jis me hum choor

in which I scatter myself

baatein mein jaddoo

in your words a magic

har baat qayamat

every word a calamity

humein manzoor

i accept

gum-e-dil-e-mohabbat

the sadness of the heart of love

ae mere huzoor

my mistress

jo rehte hai humsein itna door

that stays far away from me

20.04.2024

Do you know what Paris’s love for Helen is? Paris can’t sleep because he is sick of love for Helen. Paris can’t get out of bed in the mornings because he is sick of love for Helen. When he sees other men following Helen around, Paris trembles all over. Someone is going to take Helen away from him. When he sees other men following Helen around, it feels like Paris’s stomach is falling apart. He feels like he is going to faint. And when he is sick like that, he has to talk to people and smile and nod at them when the only thing he can think about is Helen in someone else’s arms, Helen not being his, Helen gone away forever.

When Helen is there, he can’t look at her because he loves her so much. She is the only thing he can think about.

Paris hates himself for loving Helen because he knows that she is never going to be his. Paris hates being sick in love.

Paris hates the fact that Helen isn’t in his arms. That he is not stroking her cheek. That he is not caressing her hair.

Paris hates the fact that Helen knows he loves her and she doesn’t care about it.

What does it mean to be Paris? Paris went into Greece and he took Helen from the king in front of everyone. It didn’t matter how many people were there. Somehow, he took her for himself.

What does it mean to be Paris? To keep Helen as his, Paris fought against the whole of Greece. To stop someone taking her away, to defend her, he fought against everyone.

How lucky Paris was that he could have Helen. And die when he wasn’t going to have her any more.

I talked to a woman that had a puppet in her hand today. She was using the puppet to talk to me. It wasn’t a performance. It was a real conversation. She carried that puppet around to the evening. She had that puppet with her as her friend. So many people tell me that I am handsome all the time. And today, for the first time, a woman said it to me through the puppet. I said that the puppet looked cute. The woman made the puppet say that it looked cute from all angles and that I was cute as well, dashing. Was she trying to flirt with me through the puppet? Or was she just being nice and playful? I was interested in an exhibit at the gallery that she is at and I mentioned when I was going – should I have done that? I was just making conversation and I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying because I was distracted by today.

I made someone’s day by pointing out that the brooch she was wearing was a Paisley design. She really needed that information and by chance I provided it to her. She kept on thanking me over and over again. That is what it means to have and to share knowledge.

I went to a chocolate tasting event. At first I could follow it, but then the thoughts took over.

Someone told me I looked tired today. What can I say? I can’t sleep properly. This is the biggest disappointment in my life. In a life filled with so many disappointments and betrayals.

let me clasp at the snake

and suck at its venom

let me be one with the hurt

and death

give me the paper and the pen

that I might maul it with my

blood

the cross with its cruel nails is the shelter

the thorns adorn the crown

for the man that is god

that loves the unloving other

Diary Entry 15.04.2024

one in love

takes every risk

the hero in love

is known for doing

and daring

one in love

lays his heart on

the bed of nails

for the glossy black heel

to trample it down

to kick it away

to turn its heel upon

one in love takes

every risk

one in love

swallows his fate

as his destiny

flies from his hands

Before I began this diary, I sat for two minutes staring at the white screen on my laptop. Helen. Girl 3. Potential Girl. Maybe even all three of these women are reading my diary. They are sitting there reading my thoughts about them (although I avoid writing about Girl 3 and Potential Girl for various reasons – including the fact that I don’t see them for about five minutes a month like Helen and I don’t need to communicate to them like this). They know that I like them. It is not a secret. But do they care? Nothing is happening (although, to be fair, I haven’t actually asked Potential Girl out and I am not sure if I should or not yet).

I have started wondering if I am too old for all this stuff. There is nobody in a reasonable age range to me that I actually know and talk to and that I am attracted to that is actually available. Every woman I know is younger than me. They come from a different generation, aside from the fact that they are all from a different culture. The ones in my generation are too old to have children anyway. I have tried events. There are no women there. I have tried dating apps. That is not working how I want it to work – the women that are interested in me, I am not interested in. If they are strangers, they have to be beautiful. Otherwise, I am not attracted to them. The beautiful ones show some interest, and then it fizzles out. What should I be doing? I am not going out to pubs and clubs and hanging around those drunken women. I’m just not going to do it.

People tell you sad things sometimes. Someone told me something quite sad today. And I understand her. And I understand the other side too, how the others saw her. Human relationships, when they end badly, are some of the saddest things in the world. I feel sorry for her and how much she had to suffer. And I understand it. She is going to suffer what happened for the rest of her life. This is the nature of love. It is absolute violence and carnage when it goes wrong. Because for some people, love is about control. That’s how they express their love. You have to learn to be a love and live, live and let live person. You can’t control someone else. You can’t force them to become you. But who learns this lesson in this society that we live in? It is a society of control freaks that can’t live and let live, people that have to feel exactly the same as each other before they can love them. They can’t love difference. Hence my situation right now. Because I am difference. And I won’t let anyone control me.

Today, I helped my friend with her dream. It was a dream of education. I went through my comments with her for her writing. Do you know how many women I have helped with their dreams? Even though I am busy all the time? So many. And then, do you know what I got for my care and attention? Just because I think that if I were a woman, I would prioritise my family and children, like I even do as a man, over a career, I am told that I am against women. That’s reality. It doesn’t matter what you do in life. That is how you are judged by the people in this society. Because you are Indian and they make assumptions about you.

I have been told to talk to everyone that comes in the galleries. So that is what I have been doing all day. Some of those women with little babies are literally desperate to talk to someone adult for a change. They just won’t stop talking. There were two like that today. Then, the other one that wouldn’t stop talking was a French schoolgirl because she wanted to practice her English with me. She was actually perfectly fluent and really showed up her classmate who stared at us talking without saying anything.

Today’s highlights from the tour about women artists I created: taking around a father with his two little girls. That tour has been written for women. When I told them at the end to keep on making art to share the thoughts in their head, the father started asking me if I made art. He thanked me for being so kind. The other highlight was that I gave my tour to about twenty young schoolchildren and made all the language and the ideas very simple. Later, the teacher came up to me to thank me for taking them around the poster gallery like that because they wouldn’t have known how to talk about the posters. I don’t need to say it – the tours are always the best when there are the little children there for the future. You plant the seed and see if it takes.

I was shopping for lunch tomorrow at the Marks and Spencer’s since I have a day off. I was looking at all the people rushing around at that time. And what I was thinking to myself was that these are the same people that have created this world around me. A world where I can’t just sit around and read and think all day. A world where the thing that I am the best at and that makes me special, my cleverness and ability to see the things that no one can see, my ability to put things together that no one knows go together, my originality, my creativity, my mind is all redundant and unused. All those massive ideas I have that would change how people think and what they read are just sitting stockpiled in my head. I don’t have time to write them up. Because I have decided to chase this family. And this family is not happening. I am wasting my talent for the dream of love. For money for the family that isn’t there. I have sacrificed my ambition for love. I did what I say that everyone should do: put the family first. The question is, how long? How long before I give up on that dream and just buy the children? At some point, I am going to have to accept the situation – I am not like the other people in this society.

Someone said to me today (I think she was joking) that I was flirting already with the new women that have come in. Is it flirting when you are being friendly with a woman if you are a man? Was she just joking? I am a man. I like beautiful women. I like talking to beautiful women. It is a fact. I’m not going to deny it. Why should I? If you don’t harass them and bother them, you are not doing anything wrong. Even if I am flirting – and I would say that I don’t know how to flirt – there is no law against flirting, as long as you don’t make innuendoes and insinuations and offend them. How do you even flirt with a woman? Is joking around considered flirting nowadays?

Diary Entry

12.04.2024

I just came back home from an overtime event – 23.17 right now (diary finished at 23.41). In that event, I greeted and talked to literally every single woman that came in. They were dressed in their finest clothes, beautiful dresses. It was a black tie, glamorous event. In this job, all I do is talk to women all day sometimes. At the museum, them and their children are the main demographic.

Leg is fine as long as I walk around. It is standing still in one place or sitting at one place that is causing the pain. So today I did 27513 steps and I feel fine.

I was thinking about the one single Punjabi woman I ever asked out. I was in my late twenties back then and she was in her early twenties (fate is that I only ever meet women younger than me). She accepted and told me that she would come on a date with me. But then, she stood me up. If I had had more experience back then, I would have just asked her out again. But I didn’t have experience, so I didn’t. I could have had my children with her at the right time. She studied art history at the Courtauld. I wonder what she is doing now? But I will not look her up. I wonder if she ever wonders what would have happened if she had gone out with me? Same culture. Same upbringing. Both humanities scholars. It would have been good. She wasn’t the most attractive woman in the world, but then I am good looking enough to pass the genes on to the children and she wasn’t bad looking. I asked her out because she was Punjabi and to make my grandmother happy.

I am not a coward like the little boys in this country that can’t ask a woman out face to face. I don’t do it by phone or by email. I don’t sneak around second guessing myself. When I am sure, I am sure. And then I go for it. With everything in life. I don’t doubt myself.

My main frenemy was in a really good mood today. I haven’t seen her for quite a while. She was laughing and joking around with me. That is her normal personality. She is back to herself. Was it the holiday? Is it that she has a new person in her life? Or has she finally forgiven me? We will find out.

For this child, I have asked out women that I would never have thought I would ask out. Because the main factor is how they are going to behave around the children. That is first. My choice is second. So, first of all (after being the right age for the kids), kindness. For the children and for me. Then, the ability to converse. Third, looks. Even the ones that initially aren’t my type, you learn to think they are beautiful. Then, the accomplishments they have. So that my children can have them, including their languages if they have any and their cultures if they are different from British. And I prefer someone that can bring me genetic diversity for my children. Then, style (for me).

I spent about an hour talking to my friend in the context when I came in early. Her and me, we can talk and talk and talk together.

In the morning, I gave the tour I wrote at Kew Gardens. And, so beautifully, I had two young girls on the tour with their parents. The children were really getting into it, the older girl. She was running up to the front of the group to talk to me about what they were doing with plants at her school. And one of the young women with her mother asked me about what a botanist does. I was inspiring the young people for the future. It felt really good. I have put so many unpaid hours into this Kew Gardens project, lost so much pay. It is bearing fruit. Even if you just get one person interested, that is enough. Then it is worth it. The father really thanked me, and so did the mother.

I had my first meeting online at the place I volunteer for writing to bring about world peace through writing. It was good to hear the voice of the person I have been writing messages to. I know so many people now in so many different areas in life. Always people around me all the time. Everything has changed in my life since my time at my desk all day, researching and reading and writing. I set out to change my life. It has happened. There is just one last thing missing.

The young blonde friend I made in the Gardens was there today so I talked to her. She is super friendly to me. Maybe in time, I will know her enough to ask her. She is interesting, but I don’t know anything about her and there won’t be any opportunities. Right now, it is still the same situation. The hope for Helen and Girl 3. If either one of them change their mind. Then, there is potential girl. With her, there is uncertainty. If you can only ask someone once, you have to be pretty sure about things. And asking them directly scares them off. So there are still the three women in my life. Watching and waiting. Thinking about them. But they are perhaps all thinking of someone else.

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

Birthday Meal; Being a Stranger

07.04.2024

god drowns in the water
he puts out his hand
the element is endless
he fights for escape
god drowns in the water
light flushing into the depths
boils the heart in the water
asking for caress
god drowns in the water
he puts out his hand
to feel the smooth palm
and to clutch at the fingers
to join with the woman
that is out of his grasp
love drowns in the water
he puts out his hand

07.04.2024

Ironically, given the situation, this perfect white rose has grown where I thought this rose bush – which symbolised my love for Helen – was dead.

Sitting at the diary after a birthday meal. This diary is the only place I talk about my personal life and my most private thoughts and feelings. Over time, because I don’t share the links, the readership has dwindled. People come out of our lives. People move on. The people you were once close with, you are no longer close with.

There is one person that reads every night. Is it Helen? You never know in this life. Maybe it is not even her. So all this time writing and reflecting, trying to communicate with her, it might all be useless. Who knows in life what impact our words and thoughts will have on someone.

Helen and I are strangers to each other. She called me a stranger. She wanted me to be a stranger to her. And I am. She did not even recognise my voice. Even people that I have known for a few months have told me that my voice is unmistakable. That is Helen for you. It just confirms the situation in life – she is never where I am. We never talk with each other. The only thing left is my memory of the past. There is no present and no future.

One of the roughest weeks this week. Constant pain everywhere. Motivation is at a record low. Things are happening that I don’t want to be happening. The allure of the new and a change is becoming greater and greater. It is the two year mark in this museums and art gallery occupation. This is the time that is the worst for restlessness.

Looking back and counting the true friendships I have made, the people you can trust and you get on the best with. There are some. But what about the special friendship? Every woman I meet that I get on with is much younger than me. I am not completely stupid. I know that they prefer people their same age or just a little older. I am out of the running even before I begin. Added to the cultural differences.

But where is there to go aside from where I am now? What is there to be done?

What does it feel like to be a stranger with the person in life that you most didn’t want to be a stranger with? You feel the separation. The body moves through space. The space that I am moving in is relentless. Endless. Heavy. Choking. The desire for connection, the hunger for joining mentally and physically. It unfolds in space without satisfaction. Complete frustration. Complete loneliness. Separation from life itself.

Disappointing news today. What was there to expect? Everything is breaking all around me.

People have eaten up my time. The trains are always late or there is always an issue. So the commute time has increased. There are other issues. People just eating my time. Depriving me of my time. When I don’t have time. They have nothing to do. I have everything to do.

Do you know what compensation is? There is no one special in my life (I cannot say Helen, even though I love her. She is not with me). So the only thing to do is work. All of the pent up energy from the massive libido and power and energy of The Tiger is going into work. What else is there? A few meetings with friends. And the rest is just work. Complete sublimation. The desire to be considered valuable in at least one area in life, if you are not going to get it in personal life.

I was talking to a little girl with her father at work. As always, they are the best conversations, even if they last for less than a minute. Because these little children are unfeigned. Honest. They don’t hide anything. You know where you are. You see the world through their innocent eyes. You understand them. They are not boring and disappointing like adults.

The whole day just talking to people. And then you go home and talk to more people. And then, finally, you can sit at your diary and talk to yourself. Finally, you can stop pretending. You can suck at the sourness of the lemon. But what about Helen? She spends all day talking to those other people. Even in her breaks you see her talking with her other people. And then? In the night? She comes and reads this diary when I am talking to her. Why? There is no meaning to it. But it happens. If it is her. Perhaps it is not her. And if I found out it was not her, I would stop writing this diary.