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.

What is Sadness? Or Disappointment in Love.

04.04.2024

disappointment in love
04.04.2024

the beast felt the rain of tears
down his throat
the beast felt the sword
in his heart
through his coat
once more
the beast felt
what the other heart smote

An awful emptiness consumes your chest and stomach. You feel tired and lifeless. You swallow. You don’t need water but you have a sensation that is like thirst. You are not hungry but you have a sensation of hunger. Your eyes hurt. There is no excitement. There is an awful silence everywhere. You can’t concentrate properly. Nothing seems worth it. There is no hope in anything. You force yourself to do things. You try to regain your positive grasp on the universe. It doesn’t come back into your hands. You feel insignificant. Rejected. Worthless. Alone. Alone forever. What is the point? Meaninglessness is what surrounds you.

This is what sadness feels like. This is what disappointment in love feels like.

Every morning, you try to struggle out of bed. You have to force yourself eventually to make sure that you are not late for work. You are so tired. You want to sleep forever. But you really can’t sleep that much at all. You can’t forget your disappointments. You can’t forget that you are alone. You can’t forget that you have no hope. There is nothing that you can do to change your situation. Everything that you have done has failed. You are a failure. You have failed in the most important thing. The one that you love is not with you. She is going to be with someone else. She might be with someone else right now. They say it is a bitter pill to swallow – this is what it physically tastes and feels like. It is like you are trying to swallow poison, the poison of this hard, apathetic, unloving, unfeeling world.

The motivation for everything goes. Discipline slowly corrodes away into nothing. Your dream of love which has kept you going all your life is being destroyed. It is what gave meaning to your life. You know that you will never be happy. You are certain of one thing: that you will always be unhappy.

Around you, you know that everyone else is getting love. The reason you are not getting it – what does it matter? It is the unfairness of the situation that is the worst thing. If you weren’t Indian. If you were exactly the same, but not Indian. Then, you would have had love. It is the unhappiness of injustice.

Again and again, the same fantasy creeps into your head. You watch yourself hanging from the gallows. Swaying in the wind. You keep on imagining putting your head in the noose and tightening it. The sweet release of death. An end to your misery.

But, you would never do it. Because in your culture, it is an act of cowardice. And perhaps, this is the essence of this sadness and this disappointment in love. There is a small kernel of resilience within it. Now matter how bad things get, you will keep on going. Because she might not have loved you yesterday. She might not love you today. But she might love you tomorrow. And maybe, if she never loves you at all, past, present and future, maybe someone else might love you.

So the kernel at the bottom of everything, the survivor behind it all, is the deluded fool, the irrational, the mad, the dreamer. The one that believes that somehow, in this cold and hard world, somehow you will get love. Despite the fact that you are an Indian man in a white society where you are not worthy of love, no matter what you achieve, do, think, no matter how much you love someone.

So this is what sadness is and what disappointment in love is. You live even though you don’t want to live and you dream of dying. And you are dead. You are a living corpse.

Staying Upbeat – The Mental Challenges of a Customer Facing Role

Dr Suneel Mehmi – Visitor Experience Assistant and Tour Guide (London)

04.04.2024

When everything is fine, it is not hard going. You enjoy meeting new people from all the varied walks of life all around the world. You enjoy talking about things that you are passionate about: art, history, culture. You enjoy inspiring people and making their day. The customers are like your friends and guests to the place.

However, as soon as you feel sad, everything changes. Because now, you have to put on a brave, happy face. You have to conceal the sadness inside. All the insistent troubling thoughts you have to choke down. You have to fake being upbeat and happy. You slap the fake smile on your face. You laugh even though you feel like crying. You push everything down so that it can’t come to the surface.

You become an actor with a performance of joy.

One time, I watched an interview with the Hindi film actor Anil Kapoor. He was shooting the movie Mr. India, one of his finest performances. There was a scene where he discovered the powers of invisibility and he was supposed to be deliriously happy. Actually, he confided to the interviewer, when he had to shoot that scene, it was one of the saddest days in his life. At the time, I thought to myself what a cruel career he was involved in. But the more and more you work in a customer facing role, the more you have to perform emotionally (the more you have to hide your sadness from friends and family)

In any workplace, such is the culture in the Western world, you have to hide the fact that you are sad. But since customer service is a performance, you have to do it in an exaggerated way in a customer facing role. This is the mental challenge of the role. You have to completely eliminate your emotional self and personal life from the equation so that you can perform. You have to wear a mask, forget about yourself and what is going on in your life. The role calls for the mastery of emotion. You forget yourself so that you can form a bond of empathy with your guest and make their day. You forget about your happiness so that you can make the happiness of the other. It is the extinction of self, the act of altruism, the act of putting others before yourself. This is the greatest mental challenge of a customer facing role.

When I Say Goodbye to Helen

02.04.2024

One day, it will be time to say goodbye to Helen. Either she will stop reading this diary. Or I will stop writing. One person will exit the game. And then, the game will be over. Right now, Helen is winning this game. Whatever strategy I have adopted, I always lose. I hate losing. In any game. I play to win. One day, I will be sick of losing. Not right now. Robert the Bruce watches the spider falling again and again to rebuild his web. It is the story that my grandfather told me. The spider will keep picking itself up again and again. It goes on instinct. The web of words is created every night. And those gossamer threads we spread around the image of our darling. She is the nourishment of what it is that we are. She is comfort. She is the dream. Without the dream, there is no life or desire for life. That is where the spider is at the moment, though he falls. He falls in the fall of love, the glance from those fell eyes, the honey dripping from those lips, the waterfall in her hair and the blackness of her eyes.

After work today, I walked home with my new friend. And she took me grocery shopping with her on the way to the station. Why lie? I like being around women. That was interesting to me. Just being around them makes you feel good about yourself. They have always been scarce in my life. Now they are in my life. But because they were scarce before, they are all special to me, valuable. I could learn them for my whole life.

The highlight of today was dinner. I don’t like to write what it is. It is not nice when I know nobody else can have it as good as me. My mother is the most wonderful cook in the world. Her food is her love for me. She will spend all day cooking for me. How can anyone else in the whole world eat as good as me? It is impossible.

After I got home, I did a bit of shopping myself. I picked up some things which I really fancied: cherry yoghurt and cherry jam. It is the season of the cherry. The most beautifully flavoured fruit for me. The tartness and the sweetness combined. Why did they say that the cherry is virginity? Because the sensuousness of the taste is sexual, animal.

It is almost bedtime. And therefore time to read. Tomorrow morning, I have promised myself that I will pick myself back up and throw myself once more against the world. Tomorrow morning, I have promised that I will win the day for my people. Tomorrow morning, once more, I have promised myself that I will be The Tiger, The Machine. The prayer of the Punjabis, of Mother India. Her true son and lover. No one amongst us has this mind. No one amongst us has these privileges. No one amongst us has this support system. No one amongst us has had the best education in the whole world. No one amongst us is so strong, ferocious and powerful. There is one that has come into this world. There is one that knows the unknown things.

Inquilab zindabaad! Inquilab saada zindabaad! Jai Maa Kaali! (Long Live the Revolution! May the Revolution live forever! Hail to the Dark Mother Goddess!) Remember the promises that you have made and the oaths you have sworn. Remember It is time to get better. It is time to be the best again. The lone man in this country of non-men. Punjab expects. India expects. The village expects. Jai Maa Kaali!

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?