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.

the strategy of victim blaming

26.01.2025

S: You know when they killed those people that stood up to ICE, the fascists blamed the victims and not the perpetrators. Even when they looked at the video evidence which was absolutely fucking clear that they were innocent victims, they still blamed the victims.

A: Why do you think they do that?

S: Because bullies and fascists are fucking scum. Their ideology makes them blind and deaf. And there’s more.

A: What?

S: They blame the victim because they are unjust. Because they have to justify their inhumanity and violence to themselves. It is not just ICE and Trump, is it? All these racist vermin justify their racism and exploitation of anyone that is perceived as different from them.

A: Example?

S: Do you know how much experience I have and how many qualifications? And yet, at interviews it is just rejection after rejection from these people, these racists. And who do they blame? Me. They pretend that I am not doing something right. When, in fact, even if I pass their stupid fucking interview, they still won’t give me the thing. They have a reserve list and then you never hear back from them. Because they make a point of never choosing me because I’m brown. You hear the victim blamers saying that I am overqualified too – that I am literally too good for any job. It is the truth. I am better than any opportunity that is offered to me. But it is still fucking ridiculous the shit that comes out of their mouths.

A: What is the point of this victim blaming strategy?

S: What else is it? They want the victim to feel inferior. That he is not doing something right. That he should change his behaviour. When it is them, these racists that should change their behaviour. They want to pretend that their racism is the natural way of things and that they have a meritocracy. They want to pretend that they are just when they are unjust. They don’t want things to change. They want to be monsters forever. That is why they are fucking vermin. This shit has been going on for hundreds and hundreds of years. Do they change? Fuck no. All that there is in the world of the racist is injustice. And yet this is what goes on, this injustice.

A: Can the monster ever become beautiful?

S: The monster thinks that he is beautiful and that anyone different from the monster is ugliness personified. The monster stinks of shit and thinks that he smells of roses. The monster speaks corruption and thinks that honey and gold flows from his mouth. The monster is appalling. He thinks that he is god. But he is not god. I am god. I am The Tiger. I have been blessed by The Mother. I am truth and I am justice. I am the prayer of the people. I am a genius. I am a hero. Them? They are villains. They are not fit for me. It is not the other way around. Who the fuck are they? Nothings. Non-men. Incapable and corrupt. You see what is around ourselves. Pure mediocrity and incompetence.

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?

the voice inside (microfiction)

22.12.2025

S: Against the voice outside, there is the voice inside.

A: How you talk to yourself?

S: Yes, the voice of power and the voice of daring.

A: What does the voice inside say?

S: The voice inside tells me that I am Love. The voice inside says to break the mouth of the law, the corruption of what counts as right and justice here. The voice inside tells me that I am a hero, that I am a genius, that I am the only real man in this country.

A: You are so proud of being a man. It is just a gender category.

S: It is one that I have chosen. And been chosen for. To stand for strength and courage. To stand for protection. The warrior.

A: They say that you are toxic.

S: Freedom says fuck you. Freedom says fuck you to the world. Fuck your cowardice, fuck your lack of ability and fuck your prejudice. They are happy for their fucking little non-men to have their unjust and false wars for the corruption that is the state. They are happy for these perverts to rape women abroad and to kill the innocent. I do not fight for the state. I fight for the people, for us. For the Oppressed.

A: Where is your war?

S: In everything that I do. How I love. How I write. What I think. What I do. It is the Revolution.

A: And the voice outside?

S: The voice outside is saying not to be a man. Not to have desire. That me and my people are nothing, to be cast aside and away. The voice outside is saying to be a slave and a non-man, like the slaves and the non-men here. The voice outside is saying to live a selfish and greedy life with no responsibilities and no values. The voice outside is saying let the rich fuck you and rule over you. To accept race as a marker of status and privilege and to eat this fucking bullshit because of my ethnicity. This voice is hate. It says to hate. To abandon love.

A: This voice says all these things?

S: The voice inside is more powerful than the voice outside. The voice inside is winning. Freedom says fuck you.

touch as waves of energy (microfiction)

24.11.2025

S: You know, there is this electric magnetic force in the fingers.

A: How so?

S: When someone runs their fingers ever so delicately across your skin, barely touching you, when they caress you with the lightest of touches, all the sparks in your body start flying.

A: Like a tickle?

S: It is a lover’s tickle. And it sends shivers all through you as the electric magnetic force multiplies in your body.

A: They often call love magnetism.

S: I see touch as waves of energy that emanate from the body of the loved one into the recesses of the self. As energy combines and reawakens within.

A: So what do you touch when you touch the lover?

S: You touch life itself. I feel the force of life within them. When I clasp them towards me, I feel life. When I kiss them on their soft neck, their full lips, their plump cheeks, I feel life itself. The thing itself. I have hungered for it.

A: Love is life?

S: Love is life. Love is death. There are highs and there are lows. Ecstatic highs and awful lows. But always, we hope to feel life itself. I bite at their cheeks. That is life. I gulp at their throat. That is life. I kiss their hair. That is also life.

A: You want to live so bad?

S: The dead hunger to live. I was all dead.

A: You? There is no man more active.

S: I was at the bottom of a well. And instead of helping me, they threw buckets of cold water over me. It was the well of death. The angel flew overhead. She did not even look at me…

A: You have clambered out of the well now. Drink the water and move on.

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.

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?

the geometry of love (microfiction)

10.11.2025

S: It’s incredible when you think about it, isn’t it? The geometry of love.

A: Does love have a shape? And a geometry? That is news to me.

S: Of course it is. You are not a genius. It is an original thought from me.

A: And what is this original thought, Oh man of prodigious mind?

S: Look at the way in which we connect in love. The approach. That is the shape of love. You hug someone. When you do it, their body has to mirror yours. You open up your arms to approach them and to embrace them. When you kiss someone on the mouth, your lips approach the other in the same way, half open. Your lips mirror each other.

A: And sex?

S: I am not talking about the act and the execution. I am talking about the approach. The approach in sex is to kindle the flame on both sides. So that one flame is as hungry as the other. You look into their eyes. They look into yours. It is done through the look. The words. You say the words of seduction. They say the words of seduction. You stroke the flames. Blow for blow.

A: And then this idea of geometry?

S: Love can be theorised as mirror which reflects another mirror.

A: But then there is nothing. The mirror has no substance.

S: You are wrong. Then there is only light. That is what love is.

A: Does biology agree with you?

S: Let us turn to the act itself, which I did not introduce before. Did you know that the human animal which has procreative sex face to face is unusual in the animal kingdom? And it does so for some reason. Why not so it can see itself reflected in the eyes of its partner? Because that is one aspect of it. The mirror of the self. When you are looking in love into the eyes of the other, is it so you see yourself?

A: Speculation upon speculation.

S: No one understands love. But let us speculate. One day, when we comprehend the mirror neurons in the mind, I will be proven right, just like the Greeks were proven partially right about the atom. Without experiment and through simple observation and speculation.

the readers (microfiction)

07.11.2025

A: Do you still keep that website?

S: I only write fiction nowadays.

A: Yet you have retained your readers?

S: They still read. Some are very loyal. In a world where loyalty is rare. Where time is precious and limited.

A: Do you think they wonder what you are up to nowadays? Outside of fiction?

S: I am sure I am a curiosity. A warrior from the old world. A so-called ‘toxic male’.

A: Did you not tell me that, in person, one told you that you led an uneventful life? That you did not do anything?

S: Apparently I do nothing and nothing happens. And yet the readers are riveted to my writing for some reason. Funny that. I am all over London everywhere and yet I am always doing nothing.

A: What did you do today?

S: I am not saying. I am denying anyone that reads for the vicarious feeling of pleasure in my life.

A: What do you think these readers make of you?

S: I am everything to all people. Friend. Inspiration. Argumentative. Childish. Mature. Egotistical. Humble. For some, an absolute enemy.

A: Every writer faces some kind of hostility, agreed. But what is it that you are trying to convey through your fiction?

S: In his mind, the writer has the idea of one who is in accord with him. Perfect sympathy. The beautiful reader. The ideal reader. The one that loves him. Perhaps, she reads.

A: That is what you have in your mind. Others dream of money and fame. Immortality.

S: I dream of love. I write for love. I work for love.

A: And yet, love is precisely what you don’t have.

S: The forms of love are various. Some come. Some don’t. In love, I am a beggar.

A: The philosophy of India is that the one who has the least is the greatest. Don’t forget that.