Writer Biography of Dr. Suneel Mehmi

In the contemporary landscape of British letters, Dr Suneel Mehmi stands as a singular voice bridging the rigid structures of jurisprudence and the fluid boundaries of visual culture. A writer, scholar, and artist based in East London, Mehmi’s career began in the high-octane environment of student journalism, serving as a contributor to the London School of Economics’ The Beaver and later as the Lead Editor for the University of Westminster’s newspaper. This foundational period birthed his 2023 collection, Juvenalia, and established a writing style that is at once rigorous and vibrantly accessible—a “popular academic” tone that treats the law not merely as a set of rules, but as a literary genre that dictates how we perceive reality.

Mehmi’s intellectual trajectory is defined by a fascination with the construction of authority and identity. His seminal monograph, Law, Literature and the Power of Reading (Routledge, 2023), argues that the rise of photography and legal literalism in the nineteenth century fundamentally altered the human psyche. This interdisciplinary lens extends into his sharp cultural criticism, where he deconstructs modern media with surgical precision. Whether he is exploring the eco-horror and gender dynamics of Natalie Portman’s Annihilation, dissecting the gendered power plays in the Bollywood classic Beta, or uncovering the linguistic weight of Charles Dickens’ pseudonym in his article “The Power Name Boz,” Mehmi reveals the hidden ideological machinery behind our most beloved stories.

This versatility is most visible on his popular blog, Diary of a Lone Man, where his most widely read pieces pivot from dense theory to the universal language of emotion. His deep dives into Hindi cinema have garnered a dedicated following, blending nostalgic appreciation with academic rigour to explain why Bollywood resonates so deeply with the global diaspora. Central to his digital output is an ongoing, lyrical exploration of the concept of love—treating it not just as a sentiment, but as a transformative force capable of defying social hierarchies. This philosophical curiosity is mirrored in his art book Paisley, where he serves as writer, designer, and illustrator, proving that his creative reach is as expansive as his academic depth.

Beyond the ivory tower, Mehmi remains a writer of profound social conscience. As a journalist for The Borgen Project, he has produced vital reports on the Punjab floods, pivoting from cultural theory to humanitarian advocacy with seamless ease. His work is deeply informed by his Dalit heritage, a theme that vibrates through his creative output, such as Dish of Flowering Scents (2024), where he weaves personal reflection with the global struggle for Dalit rights. Ultimately, Suneel Mehmi represents a modern-day flâneur of the archive. Through his original synthesis of law, art, and activism, he reminds us that a film, a flood report, and a Dickensian pen name are all interconnected threads in a larger tapestry of power and memory.

misunderstanding

19.02.2026

S: The poet is raised on poetry. And this world is raised on prose. All there will be is misunderstanding.

A: You say that? But you write. You write incessantly. If you did not believe that there would be one that understood, why would you write?

S: Can you not write knowing full well that you will be misunderstood?

A: It seems pointless.

S: What is of point in this life? The average person in this culture is working to make even more money for the rich. What could be more pointless than that?

A: You believe that you have a destiny though.

S: My destiny is to have been born amongst those that cannot and will not understand.

A: Make them understand.

S: You cannot give intelligence to stupidity and ignorance. You cannot talk to those that will not listen. Arrogance makes them impenetrable.

A: Why then write?

S: The truth is the truth. My truth. I am the truth. I am my truth. The truth will out.

A: Why become Sisyphus?

S: All there is is Sisyphus. There is no one else. And, do you know what? This has been the problem of the writer in every age. The true writer, the writer that is true. They are centuries ahead of their time. Because common sense is common stupidity. The herd think in ignorance. They are cheap thoughts. Not worthy of men. They cannot catch up with the real men, the real writer. If the real writer is saved from the ravages of time, then men look at them and think that this was a real man in the midst of the herd. They say that these men were ahead of their time.

A: You are so egotistical it is unbelievable. You worship yourself.

S: I know my place in the world of thought. I am a genius. I am what has come through six thousand years and more of Indian civilisation.

A: Even Indian people do not agree with you.

S: There are few that can agree with a genius. They are not on the same level.

A: Remain the poet. And remain incomprehensible.

I baked this strange letter in the oven

the fragrance was indescribable

the taste was beyond words

each that held the letter

they were confounded by the cook

each bite that they took

made the letter more and more illegible

they ate reluctantly

it was all gone

the letter was dead

and they turned instead

to a more familiar dessert

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

the persistence of the readers

31.01.2026

S: There was this guy after them. The way that he spoke, the way that he looked at them. They knew it, what it was. Because you can’t fake emotion like that. But it ended with silence and separation. However, then, this guy was a writer. So they are all reading his words.

A: A story that you heard from someone somewhere?

S: Perhaps. Perhaps a story. Perhaps I heard it.

A: Why would someone read from across the distance?

S: Do you think that the guy was completely obtuse? The guy knew that they liked him.

A: Was that not wishful thinking?

S: Then explain why they sit there reading his words. What would be the point of it? Because the story is not over. Because you can’t just kill feelings. But they will be gone soon enough. Separation kills everything. You keep on getting further and further apart from each other.

A: This is a strange story.

S: They were strange people. You know, there is a type of person. When you are close to them, emotionally and in proximity, they do not even see you there. You are not a person to them. But when you are gone, then they suddenly achieve the realisation that you are a person.

A: He has done well to get shot of them. They can only appreciate what they have not got. That is not a good trait.

S: Of course not. But you can’t just cure immaturity and lack of experience. You know, in this society, everyone is expendable. But everyone is not expendable in Punjabi society. They are all jewels, the most precious thing of yours. Here, you can throw anyone away and throw anyone over. Because they believe that they will meet someone just as good or better. There are plenty of opportunities. That is why no one really matters and there is no love in this society. But where I’m from? You would die for the ones that you love. And gladly. You would do anything to keep them. The cultural contrast is too much.

A: But you let the ones that you loved go.

S: You can’t force them to love you back. Their love shrank from expression. There was nothing to be done about it. Now I am with someone that reciprocates feeling.

A: You knew that they liked you.

S: You cannot force yourself on someone. If it was meant to be, it would have happened. They had long enough. Whatever their regrets or joys that they are not with The Tiger, they are not with The Tiger. They read his words. They think of what he is doing. For no reason. No result.

A: And what did The Tiger do today?

S: The Tiger communicated with the one that is his because they can communicate. The Tiger shopped in two bookstores after work. The Tiger went to the gym and worked through his anger and frustration with heavy weights. The Tiger shopped at Lidl. The Tiger finished the novel that the one that is his gave him as a present on his commute. The Tiger drew on his tablet with his stylus. The Tiger wrote. In the day, the Tiger read ‘The Brain on Art’, psychology articles, and the news and poetry in Punjabi, Hindi, Urdu, Spanish and French. Before he caught the train, The Tiger saw a quick film at the Outernet. The Tiger ate a free dinner at Kentucky Fried Chicken. The Tiger keeps busy. He wants to do something with his life. He cannot be with those that do nothing.

life outside of work

17.01.2025

A: What is your life outside of work?

S: Wouldn’t you like to know. You are what you do. Should I tell you my identity?

A: Precisely. This is why I ask.

S: What do you want to know? When?

A: Today.

S: After work, I called up the one I am with on the phone. That was the first thing. I talked about my day and asked them about theirs.

A: You called them first of all? And then?

S: I moseyed my way down to High Street Kensington for the Japan House exhibition. Where I wandered in the exhibition about a hundred Japanese craftsmen. Watching a video about the creation of ceramics and woodwork, reading displays about the philosophy of Japanese craftsmanship, pondering over the unique qualities of the artwork on display, messaging my friends and the one I am with with photographs of what I was seeing.

A: An interesting excursion. Anything for afters?

S: I browsed in the Marks and Spencer’s foodhall, which is one of my favourite regular shops, if not my absolute favourite. I love the food there. Then, I had a free dinner in MacDonald’s, a fillet-o-fish or whatever it is called with some fries. On the commute home, I finished reading ‘The Golden Road’ by William Dalrymple, about Ancient India and how it has shaped contemporary knowledge. When I had done with that, I listened to Hindi film music on my smartphone.

A: When you got home?

S: I ate some fancy Lindt chocolate. Then messaged the one who is mine, doodled on my tablet with a stylus and wrote to my penpal in New Zealand after watching some videos.

A: So. Phone calls, viewing art, reading, photographing, shopping, eating, studying, listening to music, watching videos, writing, writing, writing.

S: I got up to 23, 000 steps today too. Despite that, I got up from my seat on the Tube so that an old lady could sit down. A good deed outside of work to help others. Even though I’ve been on my feet and rushed off my feet all day.

A: And now?

S: It is about 23.28. It is time to try and get to sleep. Have you found out who I am yet?

loving the monster

27.12.2025

A: Are monsters real?

S: Yes. I have loved the monster. In fact, many of the problems that we have in the world stem from the fact that we love the monster.

A: Why a monster?

S: The monster does not look like a monster. The monster is beautiful. But the beauty is deceit. Inside, the monster has this shrunken heart and they are full of hate. That is what makes them a monster. A monster cannot love. They can only hate.

A: You say that because the monster could not love you.

S: But can the monster love anyone? Except for themselves?

A: Can you love anyone except for yourself?

S: It is a redundant point. I loved the monster. The monster was that which was not I.

A: You say loved. Have you cured yourself of this sickness, this love for the monster?

S: The monster has filled me with rage. I boil in this rage. It can last a week or more at a time.

A: Is this monster a person or a metaphor?

S: Why tell? The storyteller says something. It is for the reader to guess at the meaning. I cannot be pinned down. I am the author.

A: Perhaps the monster loves. Another.

S: The monster and I have separate paths in this life. I do not speak or look at monsters. I keep myself away from their claws, their talons and their teeth. Whatever, whoever they love, I keep myself aloof. I do not trust in the love of a monster. Their hearts are not true.

A: Why? You are The Tiger. You are what strikes fear in the hearts of monsters. Are you scared of the monster?

S: I avoid the monster because loving the monster is death. Love cannot love hate. I am love. To be seduced by the monster is to be seduced by evil. Their lips lie. Their bodies lie. Their eyes lie. They are a lie. They lie that they love. They love that they lie. Once in my heart there was this monster. So I burnt my heart alive. And then, from the roots of the old one, I grew another. I built a wall around my heart. Which no monster can pass.

christmas day (microfiction)

25.12.2025

A: Now it is over. Did you enjoy Christmas day? And what did you get up to?

S: I spent most of the day with my friend after phoning the Lady for an hour in the morning, learning languages and completing another module of my management course. We had an excellent Christmas lunch of beef wellingtons and spicy pepperoni and pepper pizza. With some beautiful Marks and Spencer’s chocolates. We talked and played Scrabble. Some family time for dinner where I had tandoori chicken, wholemeal pitta breads, a freshly cut salad and a yoghurt and mint sauce. Dessert was a chocolate yule cake which had chocolate sauce on the outside and cream inside. Afterwards, I watched Mrs Robinson with my friend for the first time at his place and then we called one of our other mates together before I called the Lady again on the walk home.

A: What did you make of Mrs. Robinson?

S: She is infinitely seductive. An experienced older lady that knows what she wants. A powerful woman that revolts against the trap that is marriage.

A: You were seduced?

S: Was Mrs. Robinson trying to seduce me?

A: That is for you to tell.

S: Or not as the case may be. A fine film.

A: How do you reflect upon this day?

S: It was fun. Some work and a lot of pleasure. I managed languages learning and reading up on psychology as well. But my thoughts are with those that were alone today.

A: Any other thoughts before retiring for the night?

S: I have decided upon my New Year’s Resolution. To make sure I do either the exercise bike or running on the treadmill more regularly. And to read more. Always, there is more reading to do. If a writer does not read, how can he write?

how does it feel for the moth to ravish the flame? (microfiction)

04.12.2025

S: How does it feel for the moth to ravish the flame? Do you know?

A: In plain English?

S: I don’t speak in plain English. I speak in beautiful English.

A: Forget the quibbles. You know what I am saying.

S: There are those that read that do not like the truth unadorned.

A: So? Who are they?

S: I am speaking of a destructive love. A love in which the self is wrecked.

A: Is life and the self a boat that can be wrecked?

S: You have never felt the pain?

A: We live in the degraded present. We live in a world where even love is pain.

S: When you have loved a stone, all you do is to collide against it.

A: Did you break?

S: Almost. It didn’t quite happen.

A: Why don’t you break? How are you still standing?

S: I did not let the darkness engulf me. I am the sun.

A: The sun can become eclipsed by the moon.

S: Moon cannot overcome me. There is one that is undefeated and invincible. She has given me her powers. The Mother, Durga. The Queen Mother.

A: How so?

S: I feel the protection of the ideals of Mother India. The ideals that is the one that is the warrior queen. The one that protects and loves.

A: To almost break then. How did that feel?

S: The one that is alive that has lived through death is the moth that has ravished the flame. Burnt himself alive. And yet, everything did not turn into ash. The mouth and the stomach was full of ashes. But this heart, this heart of a Punjabi, this heart of The Tiger, this heart is full of energy and life. We boast that we have the biggest hearts in the world. And so we are not wrecked. We restore ourselves. When the flame will not embrace us then there flies out of the world Solace. And whether or not we can keep Solace through the long and lonely night, just to look into her eyes and touch her gives the moth the desire to fly again once more into the flame that is love.

the breath of destiny (microfiction)

26.11.2025

S: When I take a pause, I feel destiny. She is breathing down my neck.

A: How can you believe in destiny? It is an outdated notion.

S: I have been raised to fulfil a destiny. To protect The Mother. I am named after it. It is the teaching in the culture. It is us, the warrior culture.

A: How much do you do for this destiny?

S: I work in education. I teach. I write to promote diversity. I volunteer at charities. I do all that I can while earning a living. I protect my birth mother. I protected my grandmother. It is never enough. When I was young, I swore that I would change this world. I have done my utmost with the opportunities that I was given, which are not many.

A: Do you believe that you have changed the world for the better?

S: Yes, I believe.

A: Regrets?

S: That there is not the war. And that I have not died a glorious death in the war.

A: Will there ever be a war?

S: I believe in the Revolution. Whatever anyone else thinks about it, no matter how vicious this world is, I believe in the Revolution. And I am always ready to fight. I am spoiling for a fight. Warrior destiny is the war. To create that spark that will burn the world. I am not alone. There are others.

A: How can you be a warrior if there is no war?

S: The war is all around us. The war for us. Look and you shall see. Take the scales off of your eyes. There is a system that the slaves to the state have made. It is the system of slavery because they cannot think beyond slavery. And I am no slave. I won’t bow my head to anyone but The Mother. There is no one fit to rule above me. That is what you call self-belief and self-respect. Only I am fit to govern myself. That is what this war is. Me against this world that would have me in chains and licking their boots. I am not a sycophant and a boot licker. It is better to live with nothing than to be someone’s slave. I live the life of a king. That is why I am the man of destiny.

the kardashian factor (microfiction)

13.11.2025

S: Writing really is a loser’s game.

A: Why do you say so?

S: What do you actually get from it?

A: Satisfaction. That you have completed the craft. Expression of the self.

S: You cannot eat those. They do not assuage your hunger.

A: You are touching other people and their minds and hearts.

S: Some hate. With absolute viciousness. They choose not to understand. How many do you think read what I write? How many do you think understand The Tiger?

A: What brings on this negativity? You are complete negativity. How do you do anything with this negativity?

S: I read an headline about Kim Kardashian. That she has a five billion pound business.

A: So what?

S: Here I am, having slogged away at writing for about twenty years or so. And I am still writing for free or for peanuts.

A: You are the one that chose to be socially responsible and to talk about serious issues. You could have written fluff to make money. They would have rewarded you for that.

S: Christ knew. The choice is between Mammon and god.

A: You are not religious. Even now, you could sell your pen. You would do well in whatever you wrote. You have the styles.

S: Sell myself? To the highest bidder? Impossible.

A: Well then, do not compare yourself to Kardashian. You do not have to have any message to be successful financially. In fact, they prefer you not to have any message to be successful.

S: Be content with nothing. That is this society all over. Be content with nothing. When the ones that have and get, you look at their contribution and what is even there? Out of nothing, they have made billions.

A: People want to be her. They do not want to be you. That is the secret of success. In fact, you are actually better looking than her and your life is actually full of more interest. But the problem is that Indian culture does not sell. It is not big in the public imagination. And you? You have dared to be different. You have done this to yourself. You should have tried to fit in.

S: I can’t fit into this. What this is, nobody should try to fit into it.

A: Yet they do. And therefore, you lose.

S: That, we will see. It depends on what you think winning means.