The Ophiolite

14.02.2025

A: So what did you do on this Valentine’s Day?

S: I went to watch a theatre play, The Ophiolite. It was at this theatre which seemed to have quite a few Greek plays on. Probably someone Greek on the team out there.

A: Would you do Indian plays if you had a theatre?

S: Most probably. Who else does them in London? The sad truth of the world is that you have to do things for yourself that no one else would do. That is the state of humanity. You would like to do everything for everyone. But in fact, you are only allowed to and only can do things for yourself. You would like to be included with everyone. But you can never really be included anywhere else but in the small world that you came from.

A: But you have those from outside your world, your friends, the one that is yours. How can you say this?

S: We are talking about theatre. We are talking about representation. We are talking about the wider world. Not the world of intimacy.

A: You write plays. You are always writing dialogues.

S: Is it a dialogue? Or is it a conversation with the self?

A: What did you make of this play, The Ophiolite?

S: I sat there with a belly full of Turkish kebabs. Hearing them talking about the Turks.

A: Come, I will ask again. What did you make of this play?

S: Greek culture is like Indian culture. We are the ancient cultures that exist into the present.

A: The Greeks do not think that they are Indian.

S: They are our children. We are the most ancient culture.

A: I’m sure the Chinese would beg to differ.

S: We Punjabis, we are the fathers of this world. We are the ones that invented the mathematics that would shape the world. We invented the university and every form and structure of learning that followed.

A: Come to the play.

S: It is about the family. It is about The Mother. It is about the Orphan. It is about Cyprus. It is about love across cultures. It is about how Britain tries to shape the children that come from a marriage across cultures. It is about family and its delusions, its grasp of total purity. It is about the clash of cultures, about the seismic tectonic clash of cultures. It is about mourning. It is about inheritance. It is about Antigone. It is not about Oedipus. It is about Elektra. It is about dying. It is about the law. It is about deceit and it’s relationship with love. It is about fairness. It is about colonialism. It is about postcolonialism, although there is no postcolonialism and only colonialism. It is about romanticism and truth. It is a metacommentary on the theatre tradition from Ancient Greece to Chekov. It is about the nature of understanding and misunderstanding. Above all, the play is about anger.

A: You are the angry. You are the one that rages. You are The Tiger. Only you could understand this play.

S: Only the honour culture understands this play. Because it is fundamentally about honour. Honouring the dead. And honouring the father.

A: If this is about your culture, then why do you say that the Greeks do not think they are Indian?

S: Ask the Greeks why they think so.

A: What did you make of this play?

S: It was the unfolding of passion. It was deep. It was the expression of rage and separation. It was the contest of power between the entities in the play. The younger against the older. The young as the hope for the future. The tense relationship between tradition and modernity, belonging and individualism. The meaning of the nature of freedom in a colonial context. And the law’s orchestration of this freedom and the future.

A: You see much.

S: I am India. We are the Eye of the World. We are the Voice of the World. And we are the Heart of the World.

A: You are performing. You would talk about a play within a play, like Shakespeare.

S: Shakespeare was not as inventive as I am. Because my life is the most engrossing drama that has ever been concocted. Pieces of interest make up this metalwork that is my existence.

A: What do you look at when you watch this play?

S: I watch the drama of the face as the expressions dance upon it. I watch the dance of the bodies and the hands and the legs. I watch the postures adopted. The actions taken. It was all energetic. The acting was electric.

A: Was it natural?

S: The intensity was unnatural. That is why it was conflict and drama. This electricity would confound the world.

A: You too have this intensity within you. You are far from natural. And you play with words which none can stand.

S: He that is the poet would play. He that is the fire would erupt.

A: And in the ending of this play, what was there?

S: Hope. And love.

A: A good ending?

S: I would question whether there was ever hope.

A: You have told me that you are an optimist.

S: I am a realist and a cynic.

A: You would question if there was love?

S: I am the lover and the poet. I am love. I am the god of love. How could I deny my own existence?

A: Well, it is well then that you watched a play about love on Valentine’s Day.

S: They often write of love. They often act of love. But the question is, do they love? And of that, there is no certainty.

https://www.theatrotechnis.com/whatson/the-ophiolite

A Day in Culture – The Tower of London, Lucien Freud, Chinese Children’s Costumes, Suffering Friends and The Motorcyle Diaries

13.02.2026

I was writing to Alfonso. Always Alfonso. I was relating the adventures of the day. He was interested. There were others who were too, for who knows what reasons? Whatever love they had, they would not show it.

In one of the choices of life that make up your everyday existence, I made this choice. That I would choose life over books. Books that are so intoxicating, so stimulating. But that cannot give you love. The company that they give you is fine. But it is not the feel and the sight of that which is most beautiful and most human. It is because of this choice that I dedicated this day to doing and not to reading.

After waking up, I read newspapers and poetry in Hindi, Punjabi, Urdu, Spanish and French. I also read The New Scientist and articles on psychology. There was a very interesting article about the communication network between the organs in the body. Life is about communication. So we communicate. Some of us are understood. Some of us are not. But with me, there is one that makes the attempt to understand. It took an eternity to find them.

In the morning, I went to the Tower of London. There were a group of twenty of us. I have seen this place from afar so many times and now I was going to be inside. It was a fine day although the promise was of rain. As I went inside, I saw that they had launched a children’s trail with Beano comics, comics that I read as a kid. Some familiar faces to guide me in. We started off with the history of the White Tower and I learnt that William of Normandy was the son of a skinner’s daughter. So am I. Our caste in India is of the Untouchables, the leather workers. Inside, after what seemed like a long time inside the armoury and its extensions, I wandered off from the group and went to admire the Crown Jewels. After all, from an Indian perspective, they are ours. They are mine. I was looking at my things. Someone was looking after them for me. The pernicious state that could act as the steward for no one. I looked upon the Kohi Noor, the Mountain of Light. They took it from us, from the hands of a Punjabi child that they forced to bow before them. A stone of rare beauty.

Inside one of the buildings, there was the chapel of the Normans. It was one of the most beautiful places I have seen in my life. I was hypnotised by it. I enjoyed reading about the role of the Tower in the world war and also about the animals that they would keep there. In the imprisonment room, I spent a while reading the grafitti. The message that struck me most was that it is not adversity that overcomes men, but impatience. Watch and wait. That is the secret of wisdom. That is why we hold onto life. Reading the exhibit of how the state had crushed the spirit of resistance was invigorating. They could never kill our resistance. We were difference. And difference you can never crush. The man that was standing in this Tower was one of a long line of those who fought for independence, those willing to take on the biggest bully, the gangster that coerced with duress and evil.

Afterwards, I mooched around in the gift shop for a moment, admiring the replica of a skull and trying to see all of this through the eyes of a tourist. They were awed by British sovereignty. And I? I was repelled by it.

The Lucien Freud exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery was next. I have never been overly a fan of his work and the supposed psychological depth of his brush. However, I am also always willing to give everyone a chance to prove themselves. Why not? This world that does not give me chances, I cannot become as corrupt as it. Because I am fair where they are not. What I made of the exhibition was that it was certainly passable and certainly striking. Looking at the green, grey and blue tints in the flesh of the sitters, at all of the pictures of his lovers and the intensity of his gaze with its distortions, did I feel anything? I could see the originality and the concentration on observation. Yet I could not see the connection. The mother of the artist had salvaged his brightly coloured doodles in crayon as a child and I spent a while contrasting the mature work with that of the boy. He had lost the feel for colour and gone for moody and sombre tones. But he had retained that simplicity of style.

Seeing the artist’s long row of lovers and then the failures of his romances was sombering. I wondered to myself why there were so many marriages and divorces. And then, his work, it could be seen as the dance of attraction and repulsion as things fell apart. One unfinished painting suggesting the death of the relationship.

At Charing Cross Library, there was an exhibition of Chinese Children’s costumes. There were wonderful fabrics and designs displayed on the balcony of the library. Brilliant colours which captured the identity of the peoples. One story I found absolutely fascinating was that of the Miao people, who wore history upon their textiles in the face of nomadism and the lack of a written language.

At the library, I also picked up a copy of The Motorcycle Diaries by Che Guevera that was on the sale pile. After all, what I am I but the Revolutionary? I also had a dream when I was a teenager of riding on a motorcycle all through Europe. But I did not do it. Because I had too many responsibilities and I was in a hurry to get things done. To work. But then, I come from a different background. I am not of the middle class. I am Indian. Yet I have the love of freedom too. And that is because I am Indian, because I am Punjabi. I read about fifty pages of the book while commuting to and fro from places. Che has a beautiful style. At heart, like The Tiger, he is a poet.

The last stop of the day was with friends. They were suffering politics. They were suffering the state. And yet, they got on with life. And this is the thing. The state will always be there to wreck everyone’s life. But we will still get on with things. We will still live. Even though the state is death. We sat in this coffee house. They had mocha, I had hot chocolate. And we talked and talked. We have missed each other. We talked about old times. We talked about things now. We talked about the future. As I looked into their faces, I thought to myself that a face is not a visual object. It is a fantastic projection. It is all the memories together that replay when you look at the face of someone. That is what constructs the face.

I spent time afterwards looking at the floral arrangements in Selfridge’s for Valentines. Always learning. There were Ikibana exhibitions because the floral shop is now owned by the Japanese. I also looked over at the watch designs. Always looking and looking, always trying to find something in this world. I spent time on the phone with the one that is mine. Listening to their voice, listening to their day.

When I got home, I joined the Central tickets website and booked an excursion to the theatre tomorrow for Valentine’s day, a play about Cyprus and death. A dark play. The reality is that life is dark. But we fill it with light. This world is death. But we want to live.

the hostility of the world

10.02.2026

A: You have the same story. The world entire is against you.

S: It is the truth. This world of injustice, conformity, stupidity and oppression is against genuine difference. Despite that, genuine difference exists. I am it.

A: They call you a relic and a mistake.

S: What are they? A miscalculated novelty.

A: How is this world against you?

S: They hate truth. I am the truth. They hate genius. I am the genius. They hate the poor and the oppressed. I am the poor and the oppressed. They hate our voice. I am the voice. They hate god. I am god. They hate men. I am the man. They hate the Revolution. I am the Revolution. They hate The Tiger. I am The Tiger. They hate India. I am India. They hate The Mother. No one can separate me from The Mother. I am her lover and son.

A: Their strategies?

S: Silencing. Or the attempt. Restriction. Repression. Deceit, lies. Slimy sneaky shittiness. A pretence at universality, fairness and meritocracy. Complete hypocrisy. Cowardice pure. Rejection, exclusion, marginalisation. False love. Lip service. Forever playing at being the victim when they are tyrants. Above all hate. That is what they are geniuses in, hate. They are fucking pieces of shit.

A: And against the whole world, you stand? What are a few scribbles going to do?

S: They cannot even stand the few scribbles. They try to erase those too. But the heart that is brave has no rival in this universe of cowards and non men.

A: They will never give you a fair fight.

S: Yet we will fight them with everything. We are The Tiger. It is our destiny. We are The Mother. This world is won through culture, not their arrogance. Jai Maa Kali! Hail the Dark Mother!

Impact of poverty on democracy in India

India has been called the ‘world’s first successful poor democracy’ [1]. The majority of low income countries failed to sustain experiments with democracy. The Subcontinent is an exception to the usual rule. In some countries, military dictatorships took root, while elsewhere one-party states or ethnic autocracies developed [2]. What is the impact of poverty on democracy in India?

While there has been attention to its growing importance in world trade, India can still be described as a low income country because of its per capita income, which does not compare with that of advanced democracies. Furthermore, there is a patchy distribution of public goods such as healthcare, education and infrastructure [3]. Whatever the force of these challenges, India has had a working mass democracy for over 75 years. Somehow, Indian democracy beats poverty. In fact, the impact of poverty on democracy in India is a constructive pressure.

Poverty’s Challenge to Democracy

What is poverty’s challenge to democracy, which India has overcome?

Based on empirical evidence, the UN writes that poverty and inequalities are major threats to democracy. [3] As many enduring poverty are also victims of injustice without legal redress, many of them distrust institutions of democracy. Confidence in institutions is also shaken by large and increasing disparities in equality. [4]

Interviews in the United Kingdom have indicated that people who have contended with poverty feel disconnection and alienation from political and governmental systems. They distrust the government and think that it cannot understand their lives, that it cannot hear their voices. [5]

Indian Democracy Beats Poverty

Democracy has thrived in India despite inequalities. In fact, the poor and disadvantaged castes cast more votes proportionally than the rich and the upper castes and even more so than those in developed democracies. [6] There is no lack of trust in democratic institutions. Indeed the poor have higher expectations of the state than those that are wealthier [7]. This faith of India’s poor and marginalised stems from the law’s requirement for the state to provide fair opportunities to all, whatever their caste, creed, religion, and economic status, and to actively work to eliminate these barriers [8]. As a result, the alleviation of poverty is a political necessity for politicians if they want to be elected and to stay in power. [9]

Democracy’s Challenge to Poverty

Research suggests that a country that switches to democracy achieves about 20% higher GDP (Gross Domestic Product) per capita over time (approximately in the next 30 years). [10] India’s belief in equality is what fuels its belief in democracy and the state and is what will eventually lead them to prosperity. The poor determine the structure of power in India and not the wealthy elites. This contribution of the poor and the marginalised is enshrined in the Indian principles of democracy which seek to create a society free of inequalities and with real fairness for all groups in society. What is the impact of poverty on democracy in India? In India, poverty cements democracy as hope for the people.

Suneel Mehmi

[1] https://theprint.in/opinion/india-is-the-worlds-first-successful-poor-democracy/2837427/

[2] https://theprint.in/opinion/india-is-the-worlds-first-successful-poor-democracy/2837427/

[3] chrome-extension://efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://www.un.org/development/desa/dspd/wp-content/uploads/sites/22/2018/01/Poverty-a-threat-to-Democracy.pdf

[4] chrome-extension://efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://www.un.org/development/desa/dspd/wp-content/uploads/sites/22/2018/01/Poverty-a-threat-to-Democracy.pdf

[5] https://www.bigissue.com/opinion/people-in-poverty-democracy-carnegie-uk/

[6] https://ecfr.eu/special/what_does_india_think/analysis/indias_politics_and_the_poor#:~:text=However%2C%20in%20the%20last%20decade,increasingly%20free%2Dmarket%20economic%20policies.&text=The%20fact%20that%20the%20two,to%20the%20demands%20for%20redistribution.

[7] https://ecfr.eu/special/what_does_india_think/analysis/indias_politics_and_the_poor#:~:text=However%2C%20in%20the%20last%20decade,increasingly%20free%2Dmarket%20economic%20policies.&text=The%20fact%20that%20the%20two,to%20the%20demands%20for%20redistribution.

[10] https://www.ideasforindia.in/topics/macroeconomics/does-democracy-cause-growth

Reducing Marriage Cost for the Poor in India

The Cost of the Indian Wedding on the Poor

Indian marriages, which can have hundreds or thousands of guests, are known for their extravagance as families aim to impress their future in-laws and guests. In 2020, around 10 million weddings took place in a market worth $50bn [1]. In 2025, the wedding industry is worth $130 billion, the second largest industry in the country [2]. According to research in 2025, an average Indian family’s expenditure on a wedding is approximately triple its annual income and twice what is spent on the child’s education for 18 years. [3]

This lavish expenditure puts a burden upon lower income families in a country where many often go hungry. People may commit suicide because of the financial pressures and the inability to afford a marriage [4]. To raise the funds, the family may have to sell what land they own in agricultural areas as family wealth is suddenly and irretrievably lost. [5] Again, the occasion might give rise to debts incurred from unscrupulous money lenders at exploitative rates or which effectively result in slavery to pay off loans [6]. In addition, marriages can often be the occasion for exploitative practices such as the demand for dowries which increases financial pressures on the family. [7] The 2006 Rural Economic and Demographic Survey (REDS) states that dowry was paid in 95% of marriages during 1960-2008. [8] Not least, poorer families feel a pressure to emulate the weddings of the rich or those that they see in Bollywood films, which they cannot afford. [9]

The State’s Curbing of Marriage Expenditure

The Indian state has recognised these pressures and attempted to remedy them. The Marriages (Compulsory Registration and Prevention of Wasteful Expenditure) Bill was introduced in Parliament in 2017. The bill stipulated that families who spent more than 5 lakh rupees (about four thousand pounds) on a wedding had to donate 10 percent of the overall cost of the weddings to brides from poor families. [10]

To prevent dowries, the Dowry Prohibition Act has been in place since 1961. To give or to take a dowry in India is an offence with at least five years of imprisonment in the case of violations. There is also a fine of either about £150 or the value of the dowry given, whichever is higher. [11]

Civil Society’s Innovations as Solutions

Pragati Gramodyog evam Samaj Kalyan Sansthan (Progressive Village-Enterprises and Social-welfare Institute) is a voluntary non-profit organisation which has offered a solution to ease the financial pressure on Indian families for weddings and to prevent debt bondage for the poor. They organised group weddings of five people at a time which reduced the cost of the wedding ceremony from $750 per person to only $15 per person [12]. This civil society solution showed that innovative practices and a sense of practicality could alleviate the financial burdens on the poorest.

The Challenge Ahead: Education

Low levels of education combine with poverty to put pressures on Indian families to spend lavishly on weddings. [13] The right education would give an impetus for men and women to challenge illegal practices like dowry. [14] Education could also cause a shift in social perceptions and financial awareness so that Bollywood films and the conspicuous consumption of the rich did not influence individuals so much to their detriment.

The Future of Marriage

At the heart of the problem of lavish wedding expenditure is the perception of tradition. The dowry culture and the conspicuous consumption culture around Indian weddings. Indians want to keep their traditions alive, at any cost. This is what the law is up against. Civil society innovations like group weddings show that traditions can be reconciled with practicality if weddings are thought through and planned financially. Education can provide a path forward from exploitation, slavery and debt bondage. The future of marriage in India is a just and rational marriage if the right conditions are put into place.

the critic

07.02.2026

A: All this criticism. That is why you are hated.

S: If I criticise this country in which I was born and raised, that is my right. I know what these racists want. They want us to go ‘back home’ if we don’t like it. This is my home. And it is full of disgusting conformism, oppression and hate. I can say what I like about it. Who the fuck are they to silence me? I’m as British as them.

A: Why criticise? Why not blend in?

S: For what? They reject us. A life of experience tells the sorry tale. They have judged me. They think I am not good enough for them. That they are better than me. But you know what? I judge them back. I am the real judge of this society. The power is mine. I am the one that is better than them.

A: To judge, this is about power?

S: Yes. Their false judgement of me is a power move. They try to retain their power over me. But you can’t have power over the most powerful. The Tiger is the most powerful. No one can rule over The Tiger. Except for The Mother. And she is a goddess.

A: You will keep judging even though they hate you?

S: All the sheep can do is hate. That is their culture. They defend this oppression and cheapness. That is their culture.

A: And you?

S: I worship The Revolution. I stand against the herd. I am the judge.

the war of love the demand of a story

06.02.2026

A: After all this time, I would have a story of you.

S: Why? You wish one that has been suffocated to speak?

A: Perhaps I prefer the rasp of an unquiet voice.

S: What would you have? Comedy? Tragedy?

A: Whatever you will give will be of suffering.

S: You cannot predict genius. However much you think you can. The styles of The Tiger are audacious. None can match this excellence and therefore none can expect.

A: You think of yourself as the master of the story?

S: This is the age of The Tiger. If there is a period now in letters, it is mine.

A: What is it in your words that allures?

S: Magic. And madness. The words of the brave and the storm of freedom. That which passes understanding. The voice of a god.

A: Ego untrammeled.

S: Once, there was a dispute between the king and the queen. It was a dispute about love, the thing itself.

A: A lover’s quarrel? A triviality.

S: It was a war of fire and ice. The kingdom watched with widened eyes and beating hearts. It was a war of silence in mouths and of countless letters. It was war to the death.

A: Who won? The king or the queen?

S: I have piqued your interest at last? The war drags on. There are those that swear the queen is the victor. There are those that proclaim the king. The king’s bravery knows no bounds. The queen’s stillness in battle is unparalleled.

A: What is the complication?

S: It is the war of this time. The war of love which devastates this world. Love is the mystery of this existence. Who can tell who is the winner in love? Some say that the king lost and the queen lost. There was no winner.

A: But then, you are called after Krishna, the god of love. Are you not the master of loving? Are you not the winner in this game of love? Come, ego, speak!

S: This game is beautiful. This game is deadly. Krishna smiles. What is behind the smile of a god? The worshipper basks in the love of this smile. It is the veil and it is the face, beautiful like the moon.

the darkness within

05.02.2026

A: This darkness that is within you, it scares people. It offends and angers them.

S: This understanding of the world, it is built on an awareness of what this world would do to the different. It is based upon my experience of the world.

A: You are the stuff that becomes a villain in a movie.

S: They have always had us down as the villain. It makes no difference what we do. There is not true acceptance of us in this society. And therefore, the only thing for us to do is to tear this society down.

A: There is nothing that is good?

S: The real darkness lies in what is here. Not in me or us. It lurks beneath things, under them. It is in every pore.

A: You would be the saviour of the world? You are the answer? What is your philosophy?

S: I say it time and time again. The philosophy of love. The philosophy of the warrior. Meritocracy. He who has the most intelligence and the most ability, this world should be theirs.

A: How can darkness become light? You are the shadow self. You are violence.

S: This violence is in thought. It is a violence directed at the things of this world. It is a violence that would reshape this society. The warrior culture.

A: They believe that you are a fossil.

S: This fossil can fight.

A: They believe that you are filled with irrational anger.

S: This anger makes you strong. It is based upon reason.

A: They believe that you are deluded.

S: The sugar that they coat upon things has made them sick. I see beyond the sugar. I talk about the poison which they have fed me.

A: What good does stubborn difference do? You go against all and all will go against you.

S: Only all are a match for me. I am The Tiger. I am the greatest. I don’t fight ants. Come into the battle of the wits. It is my jungle. Of which I am the king.

embrace love

05.02.2026

A: Embrace love in your arms. Live. Live love.

S: What else do I do? I breathe in her hair. I clasp her to myself. I kiss her sweet lips. I feel her essence.

A: And? Is this not enough?

S: The warrior has the war. And the world is yet to be won.

A: This love. What does she see in you?

S: The heart, body and mind of a man. A real man.

A: Are you not a boy?

S: The man is the one that saves this world from itself. The man is the one that will protect you. The child that is in me is only one part of this man.

A: How can you tear yourself from those arms?

S: Discipline. There is much to do and no time to do it. The people expect. I am their prayer. I am The Tiger. Love has to share The Tiger with the world.

A: Are you not her most cherished one?

S: Love looks for a real man. Her eyes are hungry for him. Where do you find a real man? In the village. In Punjab. In six thousand years of time. In India. In god. In The Tiger.

A: You have the hubris of manhood.

S: Why not? Come anyone to contest me. I am ready forever for a fight. And I will dance on everybody’s head. I am the lover and the fighter.

samurai and the indian hamlet – a day in culture

04.02.2026

I was writing to A. It was always a letter to A. A. was the best of my friends. I was telling them what The Tiger had done today.

It began in the morning with shaving after a week. Then, after a hearty and healthy breakfast, I rushed down to the British Museum for the Samurai exhibition. The space was spectacular. The weaponry, the costumes, the video along a massive wall. The mission was to show that the warrior culture is also an artistic and cultural endeavour. There were splendid Japanese woodblocks and even video games concerning the heroic exploits of the warriors and the ruling class.

This decadent culture looks to the time of the Samurai as an inspiration. A society with honour and with bravery that makes the corruption of the present pale into the insignificance that it is. And where do the Samurai come from? It is not Japan. They come from India and Buddhism. The Samurai are the brothers of India.

I rushed through the Hawaii exhibition afterwards. It was marred by a concentration on the relationships between that country and Great Britain. However, there were some glorious costumes on display, feather necklaces and feather cloaks radiant with the beauty of colour. The grimacing statuettes were splendid in their own way, truly characterful representations of humanoid figures.

The Oxfam bookshop next to the British Museum followed. I am saving a visit there tomorrow at lunchtime to pick up what I spotted if it is still there – fate will decide.

The Outernet was the next distraction before I wolfed down a reduced price M & S gala pork pie for lunch in about ten minutes. I watched a number of videos:

Biophilia by Sebastien Labrunie – about the Mother Tree.

Superradiance by Memo Akten and Katie Hofstadter – About embodiment in the planet

Pools by Maggie West and Scott Pagano – about water absorbing into sand in brilliant colours

Cacophony of Stillness by Jesse Woolston – the expression of natural phenomena in new and challenging ways

Transcendence by Robert Newman – geometry and the depths of the natural world

I played on the Roland piano. There were some really accomplished pianists that played before me and after me. I played something very simple and got one of the accomplished guys to film me. It will go up on my Instagram soon, maybe tomorrow morning.

A jaunt in Liberty next. I have never been there before. The textiles and fabrics were amazing. They reminded me of when I would go into the Indian shops with my mum around Green street and she would buy the Indian fabrics to make her own clothes. I will definitely at some point in my life go there and get a shirt made in one of the fabric designs.

Next stop, Tate Britain. First it was the Lee Miller exhibition. I had watched the film first and this was what was informing my viewings of the photographs. I liked her modelling photographs much more than her photographs as a photographer. There was some video footage of her posing as a statue which drives a poet mad and also her messing around stroking a phallic piece of sculpture and laughing about it, so the exhibition veered into a type of pornography, an impression that was reinforced by the number of nudes of her that were being exhibited. I had studied this period of photography before and it reminded me of my many years of research.

I was somewhat envious of her life. The great difference between being a glamorous woman and being an average man (albeit a handsome one that was a genius and a god). I had never had and never would have the opportunities that she had for love or for a life of high society. She had hung around Picasso and Man Ray, the latter when she was not even famous. The life that I had wanted had never come – being friends or even lovers with artists and writers. She’d had it all.

Desultory walk through the Turner and Constable exhibition looking at the differences between them and their rivalry. I’ve never liked either of them. However, it can’t be denied that they had some spectacular and striking pieces. As I was walking through the gallery, I had the same thought that I always have in these places. The people there will never talk to you. You can’t find any friends or lovers there, any fellow lovers of art. What a degraded time that we live in.

On the way home, I shopped in Tesco and got some reduced price Black Cherry conserve, two whole jars of it. I also had a call with a friend in a country that is going through atrocities and upheaval at the moment.

At home, it was chicken curry and rice followed by hot chocolate cake and custard. Then a phone call with the one that is mine before I watched the Hindi film Dhurandhar that has raked in so much money at the worldwide box office. It was an Indian version of Hamlet where the hero goes into the enemy’s country in the name of justice and revenge. It was a tightly constructed film. Where do I sit on the controversy? India claims that the Pakistani state creates terrorists that attack India. Who knows the truth of these matters? I don’t have the information or the intelligence. Like me, the average person does not. Are Indian people, film makers and the state falsely claiming that the Pakistani state is covertly fighting them? Is this racism? The state is all about racism. That is the precondition for the modern day state, us and them. It is the state that is disgusting and corrupt. Any state. I am an anarchist. I stand for real freedom. I stand for love rather than hate. I watch the film. I don’t let the fiction influence my understanding. All states are corrupt and predicated on hate and terrorism and violence.

Finally, a long shower and then, as always, the writing to A. We are companions of the night.