those that break hearts (microfiction)

21.11.2025

S: There is this Hindi film. I forget the entire story, but there is a break up between two couples. Because they are cheating with their friend’s partner. And then the ones that have been rejected, that have been cheated on, they form a couple of their own.

A: You and your films. Why remember this story?

S: When you are rejected, you feel pain. It is like a hammer at your brain. It chisels away at you. You feel sick. You are sick. It is a struggle to get through things. All your dreams come crashing down all around you. You do not want to live any more. You don’t want to live without them. That is what they had to go through.

A: And? It happens. It is life.

S: It is life. You can’t trust anyone. Because most are not capable of love.

A: It is a bit of a jump to say that you can’t trust anyone.

S: Every time, we say that. And then, after we trust them, they hurt us.

A: Forget the past. You just haven’t met a good person. Why this Indian film?

S: Because there are those that break hearts. Because, when they have been rejected and cheated on, this couple that tries to find solace in each other, they say that we will show them that we can live as well.

A: You want to show those that broke your heart that you can live as well?

S: You know, I had this daydream. That I would parade my partner in front of them, that I would show them. They were wrong. They are wrong. But it does not matter. They are living their lives and I am living my life. I do not talk to them. I do not interact with them. I am not going to talk to them. And I am not going to interact with them. They have shown me their real self. Whatever anyone thinks about them, I know how they treated me.

A: Everyone tells you that you are wrong to separate yourself from people like this.

S: It is all or nothing. Those that break your heart, they ask you to kill your love for them. They asked me to do something that was impossible and I had to do it. It is best to keep away from them. What will come of it otherwise? There is nothing. And I do not want nothing in my life. I want to live. And living means love.

medicine in the body (microfiction)

20.11.2025

‘You are looking considerably better’, remarked Alfonso, surveying me up and down. He was looking particularly dashing today too.

‘Was there any issue before?’ I asked him, raising my eyebrow archly.

‘You would not like the answer’, he grinned at me. ‘What is it do you think that is doing it for you?’

‘Having someone to hold.’

Alfonso smiled. ‘So, at last! But how is the holding doing so much?’

‘Before, I was wandering about this world, as lonely as a cloud on high. There was no love that was being offered to me. In fact, I was given refusal, disdain and rejection. Over and over again. Now, love is being offered to me and being taken from me in this hold.’

‘You think that love cures?’ asked Alfonso. ‘I heard that it is a sickness of itself.’

‘Holding someone is connection. What else do we search for in this life? We have it before we are born. We are in our mothers. After we are born, we stay close to our mother, skin upon skin. Looking into her eyes the whole time. Connection is our beginning and it is what forms our minds. That is why holding someone is medicine. Their body is medicine. The medicine of connection.’

‘Says the one that is healed.’

‘Jesus healed by laying his hands on others. Not by magic. But by touch.’

‘How does it feel, this healing?’

‘The ego is boosted. There is someone for me, someone that cares for me, someone that loves me, someone that holds me in this moment. There is someone against my skin that protects me from this cold and hard world. I feel secure, supported, greater than myself. I feel that now I am a true part of the human race.’

‘Someone to hold. A simple cure.’

‘The cure is simple. But to get someone to hold? It is not simple. It is fiendishly complicated. But we will not go into that. There are those that object to the truth because it is not in their interest and does not serve their agenda. And we live in the cancel culture. Instead, I will enjoy the cure.’

Madame Defarge’s Revenge

20.11.2025

S: Do you know the difference between an Indian story and the stories of here?

A: Which difference? There are many.

S: The story of revenge. In India, we must have our revenge. A life dedicated to revenge is a good life. Here, revenge is not permissible in thought.

A: What about Boudica?

S: She fails. We win.

A: Elaborate.

S: Madame Defarge is totally justified in her revenge. They took the honour of her sister and killed her. She fights for all women against the oppression of the rich and powerful. After all, they subject these women to atrocity and the absolute force of their corrupt power. She dedicates her life to justice and revenge. But yet, the rich and powerful walk away untouched from her wrath. They portray her as unjust when she is the Revolution.

A: Nobody agrees with you.

S: Because I am Indian. Not because I am wrong.

A: What about India?

S: Have you ever heard of Phoolam Devi? They raped this lower caste woman. They dishonoured us. They thought we were nothing. She got herself a gun. A group of soldiers. They chanted Jai Maa Durga, Jai Phoolam Devi! Hail The Mother Queen, the Mother Goddess, Hail Phoolam Devi! They tracked down the rapists. They killed each one. Justice for the people. She was worshipped as a goddess. That is the difference. A real story in real life.

A: You favour a woman’s revenge?

S: You do not know the people that worship The Mother, her children. We are not like the others. We are warriors. We come from the honour society. The Mother asks for her revenge. They have dishonoured her. I am named after my mother’s honour. You know the story.

the drunken gait of love (microfiction)

19.11.2025

S: One in love moves as though drunk.

A: A cliche. They are always saying that love is like being drunk or being high.

S: Sometimes a cliche has some truth to it.

A: Do you believe?

S: That love is like drunkenness? Would you have me elaborate on the drunken gait of love?

A: Go on then.

S: Reason flies out of the window. They might have a thousand faults. Yet you love them. So they say that love is blind. Reason could be seen as sobriety. So sobriety goes out of the window.

A: And then?

S: You need more? Happiness, the happiness that comes when you are drunk. When you forget this miserable world. You drown your sorrows. That is the drunken gait of love too.

A: You are saying that you cannot have happiness without intoxication, either that of drink or love?

S: How else can you be happy?

A: Why else do you say there is this drunken gait of love?

S: If love is a journey, it is conducted as though one were a drunk. You meander here and there. It is impossible to move in a straight line. You go somewhere, you cannot leave that place. You are stuck. What else is it if not a drunken gait?

A: You told me that you disapprove of drink. Do you then disapprove of love?

S: I disapprove of what masquerades as love when it is not love. A love that comes from fascism, control, convention and conformity. Not to mention its other undesirable attributes, which I won’t, so as not to get myself into any trouble.

A: People must learn to love from somewhere.

S: Do you know why they despise love marriages in India? Because they are not based on reason. They are based on temporary emotion. Reason is more enduring than a moment of passion. Reason is more enduring than drunkenness. And it is better for society to work on reason.

A: Who has ever followed reason? Whose reason? What reason?

S: You speak to one that does not follow reason in love. That has the drunken gait of love. That chose what his heart said. Instead of thinking they are different, I thought that I loved them. Instead of thinking that it would not work, I thought that I loved them. Instead of thinking that society was against me, I thought that I loved them. And that love would do and be everything. If there is one drunk in love, it is me. Them, with their practicalities, they are what kill the lover. Them, with their reason, they are what kill the lover. Them, with their sobriety, they are what kill the lover. I would rather be drunk. It is better to leave this life than to leave the drink of love.

Tolerance

19.11.2025

S: You know, the racist has this ugly word, ‘tolerance’.

A: Why is it ugly?

S: Everything about a racist is ugly. Their faces are ugly when you find out that they are racist. Like Roald Dahl said, if someone is nice, they might have a wonky nose, but they are still beautiful. Inside, their hearts are ugly. And their words are ugly too.

A: But why is ‘tolerance’ ugly?

S: Because the philosophy of the racist is that they bear your company if you are different, under suffering. They are forced to be with you. They do not see you as a person, but as a burden. They are with you under compulsion, without consent. It is a form of rape.

A: Who are you talking about?

S: They will know. They will hear. I will not say.

A: Aren’t you speculating here?

S: Do you think that a racist will ever reveal the wicked thoughts in their head? Even the racist knows that these thoughts are unacceptable and inhumane. And yet, they only love like for like. When they choose, they choose like for like. They have not acceptance or love of difference. Instead, they have ‘tolerance’. Which given how evil this world is, is acceptable vocabulary in those so-called ‘civilised’ countries.

A: What would you do?

S: These people that use these words, they should…

A: Forget I asked. I see the expression on your face.

S: I am a warrior. It is only the warrior that fights for the difference between sin and goodness. It is only the warrior that stands between sin and goodness.

A: You would fight against a word?

S: In the beginning was the word. It is what any culture revolves around.

A: You think you will win?

S: When you stand up against a system of corruption, greed and evil, you know that you will not win. Quixote tilts at the windmill. But Quixote is a champion of love. He knows his duty. Love stands up against a world of hate. In every era, this is the story. There are those that bend over and are fucked. And because they are slaves, they love it. And then there is the lotus flower that springs from the slime and muck to stand as enlightenment. Hate produces its own nemesis, love. From the heart of the slave springs the free man. The Mother chooses a champion. What is victory in this world? The warrior has one creed: right action without reliance on a reward. Krishna himself says so in the Gita.

the unpredictability of endings

18.11.2025

S: There was a boy from the lowest castes. A boy born in the working classes. A boy from the minority here.

A: So? There are many like him.

S: This boy dreamt of one thing. To be the voice of his people. Their champion. This boy dreamt of The Revolution.

A: What happened to this boy? Has he become a man yet?

S: The man still dreams. But his dreams are besieged by the unpredictability of endings.

A: No one can know the ending.

S: The Greeks said that the gods roll dice. Fate is arbitrary and random. Fate is not a line. It is a game.

A: There are those that have said that god does not roll dice with the universe.

S: If there is a god in this wicked world, it is me. And I do not gamble.

A: No, you risk everything. Which is worse.

S: I am the warrior. It is my duty. Old age stands at the corner, another enemy that wants to piss over my plans, another crony of a world of enemies.

A: Have you not always fought everyone for your principles? You are proud of saying you are a warrior from the warrior culture, the old world.

S: The prayer of the people is for god to walk in the world to vanquish sin. It is the prayer of my Mother. The heart still beats and the blood still flows. Somehow I am standing on my feet. She has her hand upon my head. There is much to do, everything to do. The Revolution pleads for an heir to her. One day, peace will come. Until then, may this arm be the strength that The Mother has longed for. I cannot forget what I have sworn to do. Always one more surge. Jai Maa Kali!

the eyes

17.11.2025

S: A look for a look. Eyes into eyes. Two gazes becoming one.

A: What about it?

S: She searches for who I am. I search for what she is.

A: How do you know what she sees?

S: Who can know everything? And yet we look. The heart searches.

A: What is this one that you search for?

S: She is sympathy. She is compassion. She is connection to this life.

A: Your look is a hunger for life?

S: I look at the colours in her eyes. At the blackness in the centres. The eyes are the crowns of the face, the universe in a face…

A: Can everything be in an eye? Can anything be in an eye?

S: The look is effort in this life. My great grandfather was a saint and they say a power fell from his blue eyes. Those blue eyes that have been gifted to me from India. With all my power, with all my masculine energy, I look into her eyes. Looking for the gaze of the Goddess in return, the divine feminine. Shakti. Power itself.

A: The eyes are twin sisters.

S: When you look with desire, the looks of desire become twins. They become magnets. They become magic.

A: You have learnt hypnosis.

S: The enchantress has taught it to me.

Impatience (microfiction)

S: In the Indian songs they sing of restlessness, impatience, lack of peace. ‘Bechaini’.

A: In what context?

S: Love.

A: You have felt it?

S: You have not?

A: It is a question for a question?

S: Apparently. We rush towards them. Within the heart, a wild stallion rushes at full speed, impossible to bridle… Will they come? Do they still love me? Are we still together? The desire to meet them, to have them, it increases and increases…

A: It is true what they say. Love is a sickness.

S: I hope we all catch this disease. What is wellness if it is not love?

A: Everything cannot be love.

S: That is because the world is made by those that do not and cannot love. Or can only love themselves.

holding hands (microfiction)

16.11.2025

S: When I got into the station, a young hooligan pushed the gates to get free entry. Then, when I came home from London, again at the same station, I watched someone push through those same gates to get out. The workers there did nothing to stop it both times.

A: I feel like this is not over yet.

S: When the bus was pulling out of the station, it had to stop. Some idiot had parked his car in the bus lane so that we couldn’t squeeze past.

A: Why focus on these things?

S: I’m trying to tell you about the people that I live with in my area. What I have to live with.

A: Forget about that. Talk about something different.

S: Why do people hold hands?

A: To connect?

S: But how did it originate? Why grab someone’s hands?

A: It is the primary way that we touch, through our fingers and hands.

S: That might be one explanation. How about this for a theory? If you hold hands, you can never lose anyone. You are attached to them.

A: What makes you think that?

S: Over the past three years, with the brutal treatment that I received from those that I loved, when you suddenly snap apart and there is nothing any more, when before you thought you would have them forever… You need to hold hands to stop that happening. You need to be attached to someone.

A: Isn’t attachment just connection?

S: Attachment conveys more of an idea of sticking together.

A: How about this for an objection? When you hold hands, you don’t just hold hands. You also caress the hand and the fingers.

S: And how about this for a reply? When you caress, you are looking at more places to attach yourself to, to connect to, to love.

A: Well, I hope for you, you find many places to love.

S: What is this journey in life but finding those many places to love? And then loving in those places?

fear (microfiction)

16.11.2025

S: You are asking me if I feel fear?

A: Yes.

S: Never in a fight.

A: Which means that you do feel fear. When you are not in a fight.

S: The conscious mind you can control. Not the unconscious.

A: What do you mean?

S: The nightmares. The fears that your conscious mind cannot acknowledge.

A: And? Anything else?

S: There is one fear that everyone has. You cannot escape it.

A: And what is that?

S: That the ones you love will die. That they will leave you all alone in this world. You will have to look upon the ugliness of their corpses. Naked death dancing through the world in all of her obscenity.

A: Why obscenity? Death is natural. Some think death is peace. Liberation from this unliveable world that the living have made within it. Accept death.

S: In the film ‘Sholay’, Thakkur comes back to his home. There is silence outside the station. Along the floor, there are bodies strewn about, covered in white sheets. Nobody says anything. He walks and lifts the covered sheets from the bodies. He looks death in the face. It is the entirety of his family. The last one, it is the body of his beloved grandson. The death of the innocent. The children…

A: Why are you talking about this scene?

S: Because the face of Thakkur when he sees the body of his grandson haunts me. It is full of grief. But more so than grief, with rage.

A: Why are you haunted?

S: Because this is what we look at as Indians. This is what we look at in this generation. They are killing our Indian children. The villain that kills Thakkur’s family is Gabbar, who stands for arrogance, (which is what his name means), selfishness and greed. They are killing us and ours with Gabbar’s qualities. I am watching six thousand years of Indian civilisation being ended in just one generation with greed, selfishness and arrogance. I am staring at death with rage, like Thakkur. The family is what makes us us. I am looking at the death of the family.

A: They live.

S: They are corpses that have motion. And to look upon them is to grieve India. Thakkur’s grief is the story of ‘Sholay’ and us all. Because Thakkur has seen what we all fear.