a day in culture

30.01.2025

‘So,’ he asked me, ‘What did you get up to today?’

Alfonso had been dreamily staring into the distance. It was no good asking him what he was thinking in that tailored, beautiful grey suit of his that accentuated his sleek good looks. When he was thinking, he was gone from this world. But, at last, he had finally arisen from his slumber and deigned to parley with a mere mortal, myself.

‘Well, today, when I have not been calling the one that is mine, I have been immersed in culture. I was at the Singh Twins exhibition at Kew Gardens poring over the digital drawings. Then, there was a catch up with friends followed by a stint in the Science Museum as I explored an exhibition on the Future of Food. I rushed from there like a madman and made it into the ‘Zootopia 2’ film. I love animation. I love art. The first film, I took my nephew to watch it and it was his first film in a cinema. I created that memory for him. As I walked out of the cinema, there was a band playing in Westfield Shopping Centre, a lady banging at some drums, a cool guy with a saxophone and another guy that was equally as cool playing the decks as a DJ.’

‘A fine mixture of art, film, music and science and the environment. You do keep yourself busy dabbling in all sorts of different things.’

‘We only have one life,’ I said. ‘I want to keep on learning things, exploring this great world of ours. I want to keep connected to science and culture and the future. I am greedy for life in a way that people have forgotten to be. Greedy for new experiences to keep on changing and reshaping this mind of mine.’

‘What do you have planned for the rest of this day?’

‘I will read the novel that the one that cares for me has given to me.’

‘A beautiful end to a beautiful day. One that shares literature with you. You are lucky.’

‘It took me much time to get this lucky.’

‘How do you reflect on this day in culture?’ Alfonso gave me the look of a schoolmaster. He was maddeningly patronising in his airs sometimes. But because he was a goodnatured fellow, I would let it pass.

‘As I have often told you, I often thank myself for making my life such a beautiful one. I have chosen this life of study, of keeping up with things, of always extending myself and my knowledge. I have chosen to be a voracious reader and looker and thinker. I have always grown this mind from the tiny seed that it once was into a mighty banyan tree.’

‘I see you deliberately pick an Eastern tree to make this metaphor.’

‘Yes, it is consciously done. I am proud of being Punjabi. I am proud of coming from Mother India.’

‘Are there any other reflections?’

‘I think on how it could have all been different. I could have been with one of those other ones that would have been sharing my day with me. And then life would have had a different colour and a different taste. Instead of the strawberries, perhaps cherries. Instead of the cola, perhaps lemonade. The caprice of the ones that we love. It shapes our destinies. And? Perhaps they would muse on these words of mine and think what it would have been if they had put their slender and smooth hands into mine, the hands of this warrior and this Tiger. These hands that would have held them for the rest of their life in love, adulation and protection.’

‘Happiness is always tinged with sorrow. What we are given is always touched by loss.’

‘It is because it is so that we appreciate what we have. When I was in the wilderness, I could smell the milk and honey of the fortunate. Now I am fortunate myself but I have not forgotten the hunger and thirst of the wilderness. And those that put me there with their enmity.’

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.

oh fleeting moments

25.01.2026

S: There is this Hindi film, ‘Border’. The sequel is just out now. It stars my favourite actor. And it has this song in it, ‘Oh Fleeting Moments’ (Ae Jaate Hue Lamhon). The lover is singing to his beloved. He hopes to halt time. Because he has only a few moments with the one that he loves before he goes to war.

A: It is always the war with you.

S: I have told you the philosophy of the warrior. It is the philosophy of love. War and love go hand in hand. They are not opposed to each other. They are one and the same.

A: Why talk about this song?

S: I remembered today the gone. The ones that had the highest place in this heart. But what a fool I was, that I did not understand false friendship.

A: If they were false, why remember them?

S: It is not so simple to forget. If only it were. But the point is that if I could have frozen the moments when I felt connected to them, would I do so? If we could dwell forever in the happiness of a moment, would we appreciate it?

A: What do you mean?

S: The song ‘Fleeting Moments’ relies on a contrast. It is the happiness of the moment that is going to give way to the horrors of war. You only appreciate the happy moments because of the atrocity that there is when there are not the happy moments with the beloved.

A: I tell you once again to forget these false friends of yours. They do not remember you. They forget and move on instantly. You were and are nothing to them. So make them nothing to you too. Reciprocate the feeling.

S: They are stone. They are ice. I am the fire. They might have been false. I was true.

A: How true were you? You played the part too. You didn’t reveal your real feelings.

S: They knew what I felt. It is in the eyes.

A: How can you still be grieving? You have someone.

S: It is called loss for a reason. You never recover from it. The ones that you care for, they are not expendable.

A: They are not dead.

S: There was no connection. It was false. It was an illusion. You cannot chase an illusion. Something breaks down because they want it to be broken. The ones that are closest to you, you can never let them go and they will never let you go either. Instead, what do these do? At best, they are reading my words. Through a great distance.

Capital Ring Highgate to Stratford (Travel Writing)

35, 877 steps in total today (approximately 15.65 miles or 25.19 kilometers)

18.01.2026

Today, I walked the Capital Ring with a friend. The weather was not inclement. The company was not unpleasant. I was not tired.

We started outside Highgate underground station. I had been warned that the high street was a bit rough but the area we were in seemed nice enough. I have a game that I play with my friend. To collect as many conversations from people as we can. I started it off. As we got into the space between the trees on either end, there was a lady with a very big dog. I started telling her about the walk that we were doing and she had never heard of it. The dog was doing something of a wrestle with her and my friend wanted to make tracks, so we said goodbye and watched her run off with the dog.

The path was absolutely littered with runners. I had never seen so many congregate in one place before. It wasn’t cold and they were wearing their usual skimpy outfits. I felt envious of them running along. After all, it is a very pleasurable exercise. I used to run in the woods like them when I was a kid because I used to live in the woods too.

We took the Parkland Walk to Finsbury Park and stopped off in the cafe. We almost didn’t stay as the queue looked a bit chaotic. However, I was determined to sit down and we changed our mind about finding another place. My friend treated me to a cherry bakewell cake. It was delicious. The cafe had a mini art exhibition featuring artists that did brightly coloured flowers and also pretty landscapes. Some of the artworks were for sale at what I thought was a fairly reasonable price of £200. What was particularly nice about cafe were the cheery flower arrangements on each table. They had a daffodil with an orange rose that was blushing with red. Very cosy and very beautiful and warming.

I bagged another conversation for our competition. There was an Asian man from Liverpool that I struck up a conversation with on the way out from the cafe. He was a runner in a half marathon they had on today at Finsbury park. He said they did about seven laps and the gradient in the park was a bit of a killer.

We walked down through the park and ended up sitting at a bench leading up to a path with a pretty church in the background for lunch. As we were eating, a little grey greyhound in a jacket came scampering up to investigate my friend’s lunch which happened to be honey sandwiches. The owner, a middle-aged brunette with an Australian accent, came bounding down and, noticing that I hadn’t opened my packet of Scotch eggs, informed me that the dog had once stolen a scotch egg from a man’s lunch. He’d been okay with it. You always have to factor a hungry dog in your lunchtime in a park I guess.

I was counting up the birds I saw as we walked towards Woodberry Wetlands and Clissold Park. Today, I saw swans, blacked headed gulls, seagulls, a black cormorant, sparrows, crows, pigeons, Egyptian geese, ducks and coots. One of the joys of a long walk in the greenery is the animals of course. At Woodberry Wetlands, we watched the sparrows resting amongst the bullrushes as my friend was telling me that it was unusual of them to hang about there. The water looked absolutely divine in the sunshine.

There was a climbing wall at some point near a building with the water reservoirs near it. We did it after me and my friend took some shots of a big shiny mirror ball with the building distorted within it. It was dead there before we came and after we went probably. But when we went to take the photographs, a group of children came with their mums and usurped the territory so we had to wait for them to disappear to get the shot. As to the climbing wall? I had to have a go. The grips for the feet were tiny so I only did a wall and a half before I gave up. I couldn’t get the footing for it in my hiking boots and was using up a lot of upper body strength exclusively.

Next, we passed through Abney Park Cemetery. We read up on the founder of the Salvation Army who was buried there along with many other folk from them too. We compared the cemetary to Montmarte Cemetary to which we had both been too and I spent the time reading the inscriptions on the graves. They looked very picturesque with the green moss growing on them.

The next stop was Walthamstow Marshes. We followed the Lee Navigation canal to our finish point. I saw a book floating in the water and we took some shots with our cameras in our usual photography competition that we have on these walks. I also did something I’ve never done before in my life. I saw the opportunity, asked permission and I got a long handled axe and split open a log of wood. It was the third time of asking. My friend shot a video of me while I was doing it so that I could share with our other friends and so on. It was very satisfying and made me feel immensely powerful.

I managed to bag another entry for our competition to collect conversations with people on the trip. It was a brunette mother that was tethering her boat house to a post. I asked her to resolve our dispute on how cold the boats get. But it turned out that the cold wasn’t the problem. Rather it was the mud.

At some point in Stoke Newington, we went into a second hand bookshop. I managed to get a second hand book on Art Deco and also picked up some free booklets by the Guardian on the Second World War, a set of seven of them.

The final stop on the walk was just before Stratford Olympic Park where we parted company. We went to a cafe and sat outside while my friend sipped at a tea and I demolished some chocolate.

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?

the bravery the pride the manhood of tiger

13.01.2026

S: In the film ‘Jaat’, Sunny Deol, my favourite actor, a fellow Punjabi, he says that ‘I am one who knows the value of life, yet still I put my life into danger’. That is the philosophy of the hero.

A: You have quoted this line before.

S: Yesterday, like so many times, I put it into practice. The one that wants to be a hero does not fly from danger. He runs into it.

A: What happened?

S: There was an argument on the train when I boarded it. About six young men involved. As usual, the non-men on the train were not intervening. I was on the phone to the one that is mine. I stopped the phone call and walked over to break it up. I did break it up. One group walked off. One of the young men expended his ire on me.

A: Did you have to do this?

S: I have been raised to be a hero. I come from a Sikh background. We have been raised to be brave and to serve the community. They look to us for help.

A: Now you will boast?

S: I did the work. I was the only man on the train.

A: You are so proud of being a man. It will get you into trouble.

S: It is the coward and the non-man that is scared. Not The Tiger. I am proud to be a man. I am proud to be Punjabi. I am proud to be brave. I am proud to be The Tiger. It is not just my name. It is who I am. I have never been scared of anyone.

A: They call you toxic.

S: The coward has many names. But no heart and no conscience. It is the man that does the work. It is the man that protects the community.

A: Life is not about proving your bravery.

S: Who says? That is exactly what it is. The one that is the strongest, it is his duty to look after the weak. No matter how contemptible many of them are.

the fog

10.01.2025

S: Do you know what difference it makes to have someone in your life?

A: What?

S: I came out of the station after meeting them. And there it was, this big fucking fog. You couldn’t see anything. You could barely recognise where you were. You were disorientated.

A: That’s what it’s like to be with someone?

S: I haven’t got to it yet. You’re interrupting. The big fucking fog is what it was like when I was going all over London for three years trying to meet someone. I’m never going to forget how those people treated me.

A: Let’s not talk about that. Come, talk about nicer things.

S: I want to talk about the fog. Deadly cold. An obstruction of vision and the journey. It saps away at you, at your will and your heart. You don’t want to go on. And, you know, it is this fog that we have to live through. Dante wrote of this dark forest in his work. It comes at around our age. When you have nothing and no one to turn to.

A: What is the way out of the fog?

S: Who knows? One day, the fog was gone. I was with someone. I don’t know how and why it happened. There were no games like these immature people play. Finally, someone just accepted me for my own self. Even though there were issues, they forgave the issues for me. Instead of making excuses to say no, they made excuses to say yes. Instead of denying me of any chance, they kept on giving me chances.

A: What do you say to those in the fog?

S: That fog is caused by people that are not worth your time or your feelings. That is what that fog is. It is a dead end. Forget about the fog and the people that caused that fog. Go with someone where there is no fog.

the happiness of duty (microfiction)

26.12.2025

S: When he died, he said ‘Thank god I have done my duty.’ There is no satisfaction like the satisfaction of duty.

A: Who says? You might have a better life without duty. It can’t be duty all the time.

S: How can you have a moment’s peace or happiness if you haven’t done your duty?

A: What brings this on?

S: I have someone. I feel happy. But I can’t be fully happy until I have fulfilled my duty. I don’t want happiness to take over my responsibilities.

A: Does it have to do that?

S: There is a risk. There is always a risk with duty. Because it is much easier and more convenient not to do your duty. That is what most people do. I do not want to be like them. With me, duty has to come first.

A: Just enjoy your happiness.

S: There is this worry. That this happiness will end.

A: If duty does not make you happy, forget about duty.

S: You know, when we got the news of my grandfather’s death, I had to take the phone call. I was the man in the house. I was the only one that could speak English. I had just been told that my grandfather had died. My beloved grandfather. Do you know the first thing that I had to do? I had to walk over to my grandmother’s house and get her so that we could take care of her and console her. I knew that she would know what had happened when I went there because I had just walked over from her house. I was sleeping over there at the time. I forced myself to walk to her house. I forced myself to pretend that nothing had happened, like I had been told to do. I forced myself to do it. I did it because it was my duty. It was my duty to protect her and look after her so that she was not alone.

A: Don’t think about those moments. They are gone. Forget about them. Heal yourself from those moments.

S: I forced myself to do it. I forced myself to act that part. I did my duty. And every time, I will have to do my duty. It doesn’t matter if I don’t want to do it and it is hard. It doesn’t matter what it costs. I will do it.

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.