the reality of the mountain

04.08.2026

S: In this journey, there is the mountain. And there is only the mountain. There is no plain sailing.

A: You do not have to climb the mountain.

S: That is what you believe. Each has a different destiny. When there is the expectation, there is the mountain.

A: You will insist on the mountain?

S: They insist upon it.

A: And what of this mountain? The great can ascend to any height.

S: That is indeed the mark of their greatness. And yet, even the great have to succumb to the reality of the mountain. Why do they have to succumb? Their energies would have brought more to fruition if the mountain was not there.

A: Humanity will always create the mountain. They do not want to let anyone do anything.

S: This is the reality. Ayn Rand wrote about this in ‘Atlas Shrugged’. Dickens wrote about it with the Circumlocution Office. This is what society generally is. The obstruction. The odds are ever against you performing and achieving. Because they do not want Revolution. They do not sincerely want progress. They want you to follow the herd.

A: Why not follow the herd. It is easier?

S: The herd are full of hate and stupidity and ignorance. The herd are uncouth, arrogant and evil. You would follow this? You would have a man follow this? The man follows his own way. And this is why we are a rarity in this world.

A: It is fashionable to attack the people.

S: One follows goodness. Read their newspapers. Watch them. See their actions in the world. Then judge. They have failed in goodness. Evil has overtaken goodness in this world. The ideals we have been brought up upon, they do not have these ideals. And then, it is not only the People that we judge and criticise. It is their leaders that they have chosen too. The whole system is corrupt. The mountain too, this is corrupt. It is evidence of their corruption. And yet, still we climb the mountain. As is often said, it is there. It is the reality of the mountain that calls for its conquest.

monsters of the jurassic deep or heroism does not take a holiday

26.07.2026

The day was ending. Quickly, quickly, I was writing a list of things I had done today for A. It had been a day of art, nature, relationships, politics, literature, scholarship and social duty.

Reading news.
Shaving.
Phoning friends and family.
Contacting professional acquaintances.
Crossword, Scrabble and Jigsaw puzzle online.
Breakfast with parents.
Languages learning. Short stories and news in Punjabi, Hindi, Urdu, Spanish, French and German.
Reading psychology articles.
Messaging friends and sharing writing with them.
Reading history.
Listening to Hindi music.
Natural History Museum exhibition, ‘Jurassic Oceans: Monsters of the Deep’.
Window shopping in the Natural History Museum shop.
Natural History Museum garden visit. Took a photo of a family there for them.
Chinese lunch at Chopstix.
Buying books at the bookshop in South Kensington: – Art Deco – 100 years of Fashion – Rare Plants by Kew Gardens – The Language of Trees – History of Illustration – The Great Tree Story
Ice cream in Macdonald’s.
Sitting in St Martin in the Fields.
Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller ‘Landscapes’ exhibition at the National Gallery.
Watching the Palestinian protest in Trafalgar Square.
Shopping: buying sunglasses on a 70% sale.
Embankment Gardens visit.
Meet up.
Reading Skandar and the Phantom Rider.
Breaking up a fight where two young men were beating up a lone youngster.
Dinner at home – Chicken Biryani.
Writing.
Sketching.

would ask me about breaking up the fight. I had just got off the bus for home. Two lads were beating up a third lad. They started just as I had crossed the road from them. I was carrying a heavy bag of books on top of another bag I was carrying. I was rushing for home because I was very hungry. It was dark. I couldn’t see much, especially as I was not wearing my glasses. I was tempted not to get involved. It was dangerous. But I would not think of myself as a man or a Punjabi if I did not get involved. I shouted at the top of my voice, an order. ‘Stop what you’re doing or I will call the police! Stop right now!’ They looked at me and they stopped what they were doing straight away and walked off. I looked over to make sure that the kid that was bullied was okay. He was. He was grabbing his stuff that had fallen to the floor. Someone else would not have helped. A woman was there on the other side of the road where they were a few metres in front, just watching and not doing anything. But I was not a woman. I was a man. And I was not any man. I was The Tiger. I am the bravest. I am the warrior. Sometimes, people tell me that god sent me to help them. Just in time. It is not true. I myself am god on this earth. My name is the name of god. It is the duty of the strong to protect the weak. It is the duty of god to protect the People, the Oppressed. Thanks or no thanks.

Golden Girl Bridgette K Schnider (Degree Show 2026, The King’s Foundation of Traditional Arts)

25.07.2026

When listening, it is much more pleasant to have someone that talks with some bounce in their voice, some energy. Fortunately, when Bridgette introduced herself, her voice was abundant in this dynamic quality of bounce. We had both come in together at the very beginning of the exhibition in the morning on the opening and she shot a hello at us all on the front desk as I was filling up on the water on the table in this inclemently hot weather.

I met her very shortly afterwards at her corner in the exhibition and asked her to give me some direction to her work. There were two rows of exquisite open boxes along the wall which had been chased in gold. The boxes were full of sumptuous designs and objects such as sea shells and butterflies. ‘Gilding,’ she declared, or something of the sort. She was a gilder. She was the first one that I had ever met in my entire life.

‘What attracts you to gold?’ I asked her. She told me that gold was full of light. And that the light would last into the darkness of night. The artworks would glimmer with gold, catching whatever light was left. I did not investigate further and forgot to mention that one of my nicknames at home was actually ‘gold’ as well (‘sona’). For her, it transpired, gold was the day and the sunlight. Gold was the guardian of light.

Gilding, it emerged, was something like a magical alchemy. It involved an array of esoteric qualities like squirrel’s hair for the tip and rabbit skin glue. The whole practice of Bridgette’s degree course seemed to revolve around such rare materials – the Mughal inspired paintings that she had in one corner involved the use of a single hair to get at the details of the miniatures. In this gilder, I was confronting something of the spell caster. And perhaps it was magic to catch the sun in gold and the morning in the night with these works.

Aside from the Indian miniatures, which included a lovely falcon that had been presented amongst the rich and unique hues of (malachite?), Bridgette’s work was influenced heavily by Japanese gilding and by the Baháʼí Faith, which was evident on a closer examination because the boxes were accompanied by quotations from the religion.

The pieces were composed as boxes. Bridgette told me that this was because there was both an exterior and an interior which could be admired, the hidden and the visible, more to see and explore. And, as I thought, as the boxes could be closed, we had the closed and the open, the entrance into and the shut door of art which was still art itself. Was this an exploration of the visibilities and invisibilities of art? Was it a comment upon the content of art?

One piece particularly aroused my admiration and attention, which was the butterfly box. The butterflies echoed the box because they had two ‘wings’ and shared a mirror symmetry. The butterflies invoked the idea of the soul since the Greek word ‘psyche’ for the soul also meant butterfly. I wondered what Bridgette made of the soul although I did not ask her. Were these souls flying or landing on the branch in these butterflies? The barrenness and bareness of the branch contrasted strongly with the opulence and the elegance of the butterlies, nature versus the man made. The butterflies themselves lacked senses, eyes and antennae. They were abstract and disembodied forms with the blues of heaven and the spiritual set amongst the gold. They were a symbol of metamorphosis and change, perhaps again referencing alchemy from this gilder, the transformation of base metals and nature into gold. Gold as the ultimate apotheosis, the ultimate aim of the alchemist. Gold as telos, as perfection and completion.

The butterflies re-emerged in ‘Going Home’, which aroused more questions about whether the previous butterflies as souls had been landing or flying, whether they were coming home or flying away from home, whether they were orientated or disorientated. In this, the butterflies seemed to symbolise Bridgette’s own situation. She was an American artist that had been studying in London. Was she going to go back home or was she going to keep on flying through this world here?

‘Crown of Rememberance’ seems to share the same maze like insinuations in design like ‘Going Home’. If the structure is a maze, it appears that there is no escape. It is a self-contained world, the world of gold and art.

In ceramics, Bridgette dazzled with her colour schemes and her designs. There was many a beautiful piece which I could see in shops such as ‘Liberty’s’ in London.

I had another word with Bridgette just before I left. She works extremely hard at her craft and is evidently multi-talented as an artist. She is full of ambition and drive. I was impressed by her and her work and wished that I could do something to open some doors for her. In her outfit full of stars, she was clearly living in the same celestial sphere as the golden butterflies, but also here with us on this grey earth. Such is the reality of the artist that flies in the skies, the reality of the alchemist that deals with the base metals hoping for the magic and the transformation of gold.

Bridgette’s Contacts:

Instagram: colorandgold
Website: colorandgold.com

MA Performance: Screen Screening 1 – Central Saint Martins, UAL

Review by Dr. Suneel Mehmi

Platform Theatre, London, England

Wednesday, June 10 • 6:30 PM – 8:30 PM

My Mum has an Art Studio, by Zhang Jiaqi

MY REVIEW:

In India, the goddess of art and culture is Saraswati, a mother goddess. It is The Mother that gives inspiration and art. Similarly, this story sees the powerful figure of the mother as the instructor and enabler of creativity for a daughter that is suffering from creative fatigue.

The mother is shown as the greater voice of experience from an Asian culture which values and respects elders. She is also full of vitality, a quality that the daughter aspires to and therefore, one suspects, this is missing in her life. The mother seems to be the young one and not the daughter. The scene which clinches this impression is when the mother is encircled by a group of young dancers and dancers in the centre, entrancing all eyes with her energy. Therefore, just like the Mother Goddess, the Mother in the film is power. The power of creation. The film is the worship of The Mother, similar to Hindu religion.

The Mother’s studio was amazing, full of busts and plants, showing that she was one with nature. The daughter also describes the mother as amazingly beautiful, which invokes the Freudian idea of the desire for the mother too.

The mother’s role is set amidst a homecoming. Does the Mother represent China and its continuity of culture over thousands of years? Is there an idea that unity with the Motherland is the secret to creativity?

SUMMARY:

A daughter who hasn’t been home for years comes back exhausted and uncertain after graduation. Facing her first major life choice, she doubts if she should continue painting and struggles with reality.

At home, she notices her mother is different. The woman who always waited for her is now building her own life. In this gentle spring, they take a short but profound trip. The mother leads her to a hidden studio—a secret space she built for herself. During their time together, the daughter finally sees her mother’s persistence and growth, which helps her rethink her own path.

This is a journey of self-discovery and mutual understanding, a transformation for both mother and daughter. It is a homecoming and a rediscovery of the mother’s growth. In each other’s eyes, they show their true selves and complete a change of understanding and companionship.

–
Cast:
Daughter: Junhuan Cheng
Mother: Jiahan Bu
Dancing guys: Lytia Liu, Argo, Cheryl Ding, Jingyi Yuan, Xinxin Zhang, Frank Liu, Guosheng Sun, Zeyang Li, Changxin Ma

Director and Screen Writer: Jiaqi Zhang
1st Assistant Director: Xinxin Zhang
Script Assistant: Argo
Director Assistants: Xiaoya Wang, Hanchao Yang
Production Manager: Cheryl Ding
Production Assistant: Jingyi Yuan
Production Runner: Changxin Ma
Director of Photography: Songming Cai
Focus Puller: Frank Liu
Camera Assistant: Kai Wang
Camera Technician: Jiqin Zhang
DIT: Liangyu Huang
Gaffer: Yuyang Chen
Lighting Assistants: Guosheng Sun, Changjun Zhou, Fengchun Yu
Production Designer: Sers Shi
Art Director: Runyu Li
Property Master: Hai Zhao
Art Production Assistants: Muyi Fu, Zile Wang
Sound Recorder: Zeyang Liu
Editor: Jiaqi Zhang
Colorist: Xilin Zhang
Sound Designer: Die Lai
Composer: Junwen Wu
Poster Designer: Jiaqi Zhang
–

Berglas Effect, by Todd Chen

MY REVIEW:

This is an ambiguous meditation on the theme of domestic violence, which is what joins together all of the characters. Characters mirror each other in attempting to end domestic violence (against women), or attempting to revenge it. But their attempts culminate in murder itself, suggesting that there is no escape from violence (although feminist criticism might argue something very different here). In many ways, this is a comment upon human culture. There has always been an argument between peace and war, between violence and non-violence. The two are structurally connected, however much one tries to separate them. And in this sense, the film is a Derridean analysis of how much unites what is thought of as discrete. How there can be no separation.

The title refers to the sleights of hand and illusions that the film makers are creating with the script.

There were technical faults with this film which I am pointing out because these are students and therefore this is constructive criticism. One, the subtitles disappeared into the white at some points. I cannot understand (Chinese?) and therefore I missed some of the dialogue. Second, the face of the main character was blurred in a few scenes.

SUMMARY:

Berglas Effect is an attempt at a film creation in the suspense and crime genre with dark elements. This work depicts a series of consecutive tragedies triggered by domestic violence, in which three characters are drawn into the vortex due to their respective obsessions, and ultimately no one achieves true liberation.

–
Cast: Zhang Xu, Wang Hu Lei Lei Ben Zhang

Director: Song Yan Ze & Chen Jia Cheng
Actor Assistant Director: Huang Yin Luo
Script Supervisor: Li Guan Yuan
Production Manager: Wu Si Rui
Director Of Photography: Williams Zhang
Gaffer: Zhu Yan Tao
Production Designer: Song Shao Pu
Art Director: Wan Jing Ning
Special Effects Makeup: Cheng Zhuo Ya
Recording Supervisor: Chen Yu Fan
Production Sound Mixer: Wang Tian Jiu
Editor: Zhang Peng
Sound Designer: Chen Ruo Jing Chen Yu Fan
–

UPHILL, DOWNHILL, by Wenhan Qin

MY REVIEW:

This mountain is a metaphor for the uphill climb or struggle of life, and how one can get lost or disorientated within it. These youngsters climb the mountain to try and connect with the heavens, with alien life forms, with an advanced intelligence and the gods of the sky. However, they become lost. There is much pressure on them. They do not form that connection with the heavens that they so desperately want.

This is a young person’s idea of ambition. Ambition, however, should not be to connect with something greater, something that is not human. Ambition should be to connect to others, to one’s relations. In the film, the young man cannot connect with his mother. He ignores her phone calls and argues with her. It is relationships that ground us to this world, our origins that remind us who and what we are, where we are and where we are going.

Instead of asking strangers for help and thinking that they won’t just leave you to die (when that is what they will do, because you and everyone is expendable to them), and treating our nearest and our well-wishers as enemies, we have to accept that they expect things of us and we have to try our best to achieve those expectations. For our family and the ones that love us, we are not expendable. We are not just our careers. We are the ones that they love. And that should be enough. Why is it not enough? That is what you have to ask of this society.

SUMMARY:

A phone call from Xiao Xiu’s mother threatens to drag him back into a life he can no longer control. Desperate to escape, he retreats to an isolated mountain rumoured to receive mysterious signals. There, he encounters a young content creator and an obsessive inventor — each searching for a different kind of answer.

When one of them disappears, the mountain transforms from refuge into maze, filled with dead ends, unresolved choices, and a reality that keeps closing in.

UPHILL, DOWNHILL is a poetic film about young people stumbling through early adulthood — fleeing their fate, and anxiously hoping someone will show them the way.

–
Cast: Xiao Jiang, Huaiyi Zeng, Duo Hu
Director: Wenhan Qin
Assistant Director: Litao Li
DoP: Luyao Liu
B-Camera Operator: Peng Zhang
Focus Puller: Yazhou Cui, Chuandong Wang
Camera Assistant: Weizheng Li, Xiao Wang, MKX
Production Designer: Junyan Jiang
Art Assistant: Xiangcheng Wang
Sound Recordist: Jia Hu
Sound Assistant: Yongwei Zhang
Script Supervisor: Shiran Xu
Production Assistant: Dakang Lu
Still Photographer: Mingyuan Liu
Editor: Wenhan Qin

Thanks: Anne Beresford, Gabi Tropia
–

Last night, I dreamed I learned how to swim, by Yuyan Zhang

MY REVIEW:

Jealousy of the mother is apparent in this one, particularly the sexuality of the mother. The sexuality of the mother and modelling upon it is related to the burgeoning periods and sexuality of the teenager, suggesting that the film is possibly an examination of female role models in the construction of young girls and the firing off of mirror neurons in the brain and how these relate to vision (this is a film) and action.

The mother is also controlling. Therefore the expression of her sexuality is seen as a form of power perhaps. And this is why the young teenager is jealous and attempts to acquire that power for herself. One wonders what a feminist might make of this characterisation, that sex is power for women. Is this a stereotype? Or is the film debunking this stereotype?

The teenager is a spy and this is therefore about the construction of a scopic regime and surveillance, perhaps the idea of Foucauldian panopticism. The scene that is therefore of particular interest is when the young teenager cuts off the swimming costume that covers her whole body (like the panopticon) and exposes her body. There is the tension between exposure and revealing. The final ending has this too, when we are finally exposed to the sexual development of the daughter, although through the implicit rather than to the bodily. The aesthetic is revealing through concealing, showing through hiding, manifesting through veiling. I’m sure someone has written about this in terms of sexuality, that there is the dance between showing and telling.

SUMMARY:

Sixteen-year-old Xu Muze is forced by her mother into swimming class, anxious over her delayed first period. By chance, she sees her mother secretly dating the swimming coach and watches her become a different woman in a dance hall. Water mirrors her fear and longing. In a dream, she finally learns to swim, but can never catch up with her mother. She wakes to her first period. After seeing her mother, she truly sees herself for the first time.

–
Cast: Harmonie He, Jun Liu, Xiaobao Zhao, Benben 
Director: Yuyan Zhang 
1st Assistant Director: Qiren Xu
Script Assistant: Xinyi Li 
Production Manager: Diman Luo
1st Production Assistant: Tong Lv, Jiaying Wu
2nd Production Assistant: Yongqi Su, Zhuyue Hu 
Director Of Photography: Jiacheng Chen 
Camera Operator: Jeff Zhang
Focus Puller: Tuoran Li 
Gaffer: Shuhao Wang
Best Boy: Tianwei Bao
DIT: Yaokun Mo
 Art Director: Cong Le
Art Assistant: Ruimin Li 
Stylist: Xinjue Wu
Hair and Make-up: Xiaochen Zhu, Yanping Zhang, Yixin Chen 
Sound Recordist: Zhixuan Zhao
Boom Operator: Xiaoni Huang
 Sound Designer: Yufan Chen 
Colorist: Shiqi Sun
 Editor: Yuyan Zhang
–

Puann-hì, by Ding Wei

MY REVIEW:

This one appears to be gauging the contest between Western drama exemplified by Medea and Chinese traditional art forms which are interlaced throughout. It is about the idea that acting is about courage, what it means to be a woman that is not docile and weak, to be able to speak up and express oneself.

This was the most technically beautiful film for me, with its choreography and dream-like sequences.

The film investigated the theme of domestic abuse and, moreover, the man was the powerful villain because he was the landlord and held the financial power. Therefore, one might see the film as an exposure of the patriarchy and its misogyny driven by feminism.

SUMMARY:

A Minnan girl named A-ning, who studies far from home, is rehearsing for a production of *Medea*. Returning home during the holidays, she finds her homeland both familiar and isolating, uncertain where she truly belongs. The struggles of real life often make her long to become a powerful woman like Medea in the play—but in Minnan, Medea is dismissed by her grandmother as a foolish and selfish woman. She can’t help but wonder: without a dragon-drawn chariot, without myth, what kind of “revenge” do we need in the 21st century?

–
Cast: Faymin, Ding Yunchen, Huang Jiale, Li Weisi, Chen Xiufeng
Director: Ding Wei
Assistant Director: Li Yihan
Producer: Li Fan
UPM: Kilin Lin
DOP: Cai Songming
Camera Assistant: Jin Xiao
Puller: Huang Jinqi
Gaffer: Peng Junjie
Lighting Assistant: Tu Erqi
Production Designer: Fang Woni, Hu Jingtong
Art Assistant: Feng Yu
Stylist: Feng Yu
Sound Designer: Tang Chenhui
Sound Assistant: Peng Haiyun
Script Supervisor: Chen Yufei
Editor: Ding Wei
–

Xiang Qian Kan Qi, by Cong Le

MY REVIEW:

Castration (the Freudian losing of the teeth) figures as a major theme here, perhaps the castration of the individual by the state, since we are talking about a performance for the nationalistic Olympics here. If castration is not about power, what is it about? It is a powerlessness imposed by the powerful, the oppressors in the state that control representation. This was perhaps the essence of the body horror that we saw here, the hair cutting, the teeth being pulled out, even the contortionism of the heroine.

This was the most lavishly shot out of all the films which made me wonder how the budget was so big! The choreography made the film very beautiful.

This film seemed to be about the idea of disappearance in the body. Teeth disappearing. The body of the heroine disappearing. The lack that the state creates in the body…

SUMMARY:

Amid the Olympic fever of 2008, in a dance troupe with a strict hierarchy, the girls were compared, selected and replaced amid the undercurrents of competition. Qianqian tried hard to fit in with the rules, but the honour she eventually gained was to completely disappear from the most dazzling stage.

–
Cast: Xuanyu Zhang, Xuanyushan He, Peixin Li
Director/Writer: Cong Le
1st Assistant Director: Zhiyuan Li
2nd Assistant Director: Yuyan Zhang
Script Supervisor: Yi Lu
Choreographer: Xinyi Du, Jiayi Ding
Unit Production Manager: Fujiwara Kai
1St Production Assistant: Siyu Chen, Yujing Yang
Director Of Photography: Yinghai Hu
Focus Puller: Shiyong Li
1st Assistant Camera: Yingqiang Liu
Gaffer: Jun Yuan
Best Boy: Fadong Li, Zongyang Duan, Qun Yuan
Digital Imaging Technician: Ziwei Goh
Art Director: Zifan Wang
Prop: Fei Gao, Hui Tian, Chaochao Zheng, Zhenjiang Lu, Hongling Zhao
Costume Designer: Haoying Zhang
Stylist: Zhao Chen
Hair And Make-up: Zhiyang Li, Zeyu Wang, Yixuan Zuo
Sound Designer: Yiran Ma, Zikang Wang
Sound Mixer: Zikang Wang
Boom Operator: Yehan Li
Composer: Monstar Cao, Yiran Ma
Editor: Cong Le
Colorist: Shangbai Jiang

Day 1 of Study Holiday

01.05.2026

It was close to the time of sleep. When we are closest to death while we breathe. Weariness was creeping in. But there was A. to talk with. Always A.

This was the first day of my study holiday from work. To complete a degree in Art History through my dissertation. The morning began with taking a lady with me to the ‘Sea and Seurat’ exhibition at the Courtauld Art Gallery, an event I had booked several weeks ago. The artist had been obsessed with the sea and the light upon it. Water that gleamed. The paintings, I noted, had been enabled by the advances in rail travel at the time.

Afterwards, it was a complimentary photo shoot that I had given to a client to build up both of our portfolios. I had actually just finished editing up the shots and sending them down to him. This was followed by the Stubbs horse exhibition at the National Gallery after lunch in the park behind Holborn Station (Lincoln Fields). Stubbs wanted to be anatomically correct, an exercise I find completely pointless as an artist. But then, I have photography to be accurate, art to be imprecise and imaginative. I live in an advanced technological age.

When I had finished the contemplation of all of those glistening flanks of horse, I met up with a friend at the guitar recital at Saint Sepulchre near Holborn Viaduct followed by photos of Nathaniel the young musician which I shared on my photography account. On arriving home, the dissertation, a long shower and then eating the family bbq and booking some weekend tickets for myself and my girlfriend and a friend.

I had spent most of the evening thinking about Indian art in Britain and most of the day in the world of art, spectator, scholar and practitioner. It was an art life. A connected life with a girlfriend and friends. There had been an unexpected message from a good friend of many years too after a while. It was a good first day for a study break.

Farthing Downs and Happy Valley – 27.03.2026

39,000 steps/17.31 miles (equivalent to 66.6 circuits of a soccer pitch)

Birds seen: parakeets, crows, possibly a raven, blue tits, pigeons, goldfinch, starlings

Highlights

The Flint Game

Strewn about all over this area, there were pieces of flint. We are hypothesising that the area might have been a major hub for prehistoric man. We were talking about the craftsmanship required to make the flints into weapons and then, suddenly, I had the idea that we should each of us have a go at doing it.

So my friend and I picked up two pieces of flint, one piece smaller and one piece larger and we placed the smaller piece onto a piece of flint that was embedded in the ground. Then, we struck at the corners and edges of the smaller piece of flint with the bigger. Unlike in cinema, there were no sparks. We were both wearing our glasses as eye protection. My friend went first and he struck out a piece quite quickly. I put it into my pocket and felt it. It was incredibly sharp. I did my piece next. It took a few goes to get going as I wasn’t firmly onto the embedded flint bed but then a satisfying sharp tooth came off. We had both reconnected with our prehistoric past. I kept both the pieces and now they are on my bookshelf in my bedroom. A reminder of what? Our ancestry? The trip? Friendship?

The Chaldon Doom Painting

After getting slightly lost, we entered Chaldon Church which was a pretty construction to do the art part of our walk. We were going to see the Chaldon Doom painting. This had been created by a monk that fancied himself as an artist and was about the sins, a bit like Hieronymous Bosch’s masterpiece, ‘The Garden of Earthly Delights’.

As we entered, we came across two friends, R. and A. One was a young woman with dyed blonde hair who was the very picture of silence. The other was a stout man with black hair that chatted to us amiably about the mural because he was a local. His first words to me was that we are all a part of god so that we are all gods, a statement fit for a church. He had watched a video on YouTube about it and chatted to my friend about what he knew while I studiously read the labelled diagram of the mural and read the extended curator label about it.

The mural was reddish and quite ugly, although interesting to look at at the same time. The church was not particularly impressive but it was a novel experience to go to look at art and actually find a stranger that you could talk to about it. It never happens in London.

The View from Farthing Down

At the top of Farthing Down, there was this stone compass which pointed out all of the things on the wonderful view that you could get from this vantage point. We were looking at the mast for Crystal Palace, at Canary Wharf and also trying to see what else we could get our eyes onto. After you struggle up a hill, the view is the reward. And the rest and the sense of accomplishment that goes with it.

The Hive Garden in Coulsdon South Library

Noticing that there was a library around when we got into Coulsdon South, we decided to go in and check out the Ordinance Survey maps for our walk. Then, when we circled back to it to get on track onto our walk and were walking past, I noticed a charming little garden to its side. It was a delightful little construction, with little statuettes of fairies strewn about for the children. There was a wonderful yellow bench and it was wondderfully organised. Such a pleasant place for reading in the summer. We only spent a few minutes there but it was a lovely experience.

The Beauty of the Woods

We walked past decaying logs overlaid with green, green moss, past Yew trees and also delightful looking fungal growths on the ground. It was much warmer in the woods than in the outside world and also there was no rain like there was in the exposed elements. It was the usual but always relaxing and soothing immersion in nature. The birdsong was particularly beautiful, incredibly loud too. Like a concert that nature had put on for us specially.

Coffee in the morning

When we were drinking in Caffe Nero, we had a conversation with the Irish barrista. It turned out that the owner of the cafe was actually a Londoner and that he had only gone to Milan for university.

The Museum in the Pub

When we stopped for a drink at about two o’clock, the table where we sat in the pub had a framed document from the king at the end of the war, thanking the schoolchildren for their share in the hardship and struggles of the war. It told the children that they were worthy members of the sacrifices and the grit of the nation. This was an insight into that momentous time and the lives of the schoolchildren who lived then.

the worship of anger and the master of the field

27.03.2026

S: Recently, Imran Khan, a failed actor with no good films of his own and, really, a non-entity in Hindi film who was there because of his famous uncle, criticised Ranveer Singh, the hero of Dhurandhar 2 (‘The Master of the Field’). Khan said that he didn’t want to do any films portraying an angry man and this version of masculinity.

A: Thoughts? Are we preparing for another diatribe?

S: The thought is that we get all these people that are against anger. It is their culture. They want to kill anger. They think they are better than other people because they don’t have anger. They act like anger is a false emotion. In fact, anger is the most real of the emotions.

A: Proof?

S: Look at the Christian idea that you should turn the other cheek. And I remember reading a summary of a book that said the ancient writers all talked about expelling anger from the collective psyche. There is a conspiracy against anger.

A: People do not worship anger like you do.

S: I do worship anger. I worship the Dark Mother, Maa Kaali. Whose bloodlust is uncontrollable.

A: Why?

S: Do you know why The Mother has four arms? Because she is strength personified. Anger gives you energy. In the film that Imran Khan mocked, Ranveer Singh (a fellow Punjabi) says that not everyone can attain revenge. For revenge you have to have courage and energy. That’s what the film says. It is anger that gives you energy.

A: Proof?

S: Look at me. I am motivated by rage. Absolute rage. A rage that is unthinkable in this society. I got up after three or so years of debilitating illness because the Mother Goddess, Maa Kaali came to me. To get my revenge. I do seven paid jobs, more volunteering work on top of that, university study, a girlfriend, family commitments including mentoring and teaching my nephew. It is driven by absolute rage. The energy of anger. The energy of the Revolutionary.

A: You are Dhurandhar? The Master of the Field?

S: If it is not the Punjabi Tiger, who is it then? Certainly not Imran Khan. He can go back to his non-existence as an actor. India has rejected him. Me? They have accepted. I am their hero.

the attempt to make life beautiful

22.03.2026

A: You are always telling me that you are trying to make life beautiful.

S: I do make life beautiful. Today, I had a wonderful day.

A: Why?

S: I work at the most beautiful places in the world, the most fascinating, the most interesting. However, I will not talk about work. I will talk about what I did outside of work.

A: What did you do?

S: In the first break in the morning, I shopped at the local Oxfam Charity Bookshop. I bought several books, including those on typography, writings from women travellers and also an exquisite little tome on gardens.

A: Then, at lunch?

S: I went down to the National Maritime Museum and went through the Astronomy Photographer of the Year exhibition. I had a wonderful time immersed in space, nebulae and the planets. I was travelling there. I saw a beautiful video about a couple that went on an adventure to photograph the Northern Lights, such a nice and kind woman, such an aid to the photographer. It was heartwarming.

A: The next thing?

S: Another break and this time I went aboard The Cutty Sark to gaze at the views around me on a boat. Followed by a cheap snack at Macdonald’s.

A: Then after work?

S: A visit to Canary Wharf to look over the buildings and the waterfront. Then a shopping expedition to Marks and Spencer’s where I picked up some wonderful dessert and tomorrow’s lunch, Thai Red Curry and Sweet and Sour Chicken. I then ambled about in the park at Canary Wharf where I sat amidst the cherry blossoms and camelias, having a conversation on the phone with my girlfriend.

A: Then when you got home?

S: I had a feast for dinner. It was chicken and spinach curry with freshly prepared chapattis. The salad was wonderful: tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce of two descriptions, red onions and a special favourite – mooli (parsnips) with garam masala. This was also washed down with 100% lychee juice and a glass of water. For dessert, I had an M & S trifle of peach, pears and pineapple.

A: To end the night?

S: Duty, my friend. There is always duty. I sat with my mother while she watched a video of an Indian wedding for a few minutes. Then, I wrote a newspaper article for the charity that I work on, a newspaper article about Punjab, the home of my people. While listening to world music instrumentals on Spotify.

A: You pack in a lot.

S: My energy and my curiosity, my greed for life, all of these are boundless. I want to live a full life and I do. It is the life I dreamed of. The life of an intellectual, the life of a lover, the life of an artist.

A: To finish the night?

S: The girlfriend again. A hot shower. Perhaps some reading. This mind needs fuel and love.

food

04.03.2026

A: Have you finished telling everyone off yet?

S: Not yet. And they need something more than telling off to learn their lesson.

A: I’ve told you not to start with that. What did you have for dinner? Salmon with boiled vegetables and potatoes. Trump that.

S: Food is not a competition, whatever this culture tells you.

A: Is that a way of saying that dinner did not come up to the mark?

S: Your dinner is not bad. But actually, I had Chicken Panang Curry, Thai Green Chicken and Rice Curry and a beautifully zingy lemon tart for dinner. Even though I was completely satiated, my mouth is watering just thinking of the meal again. The wonderful concoctions and genius of M and S.

A: What did you think of while you were eating?

S: How incredible it all was. I am a sensualist. And I had never eaten Chicken Panang curry before.

A: A top meal. What are your other favourites again?

S: Chicken Shish kebabs, Doner Kebab, Special fried rice, Chicken in black bean sauce, Roast lamb, Pigs in blankets, Chicken Tikka Masala, Chicken biryani, Mutton curry, flame grilled burgers, Kentucky fried chicken, southern fried chicken fillet burgers, curried salmon, fish and chips, Fried aubergine curry, soured yoghurt with dumplings, chocolates of various descriptions, Turkish delight…

A: Whoa there! I didn’t ask you to list every single food ever invented.

S: I told you that I am a sensualist. I enjoy my food more than most.

A: With that thin stomach no one would ever know how much you ate.

S: I have a theory about that.

A: Pray tell.

S: You know I am a genius? My brain is massive. And the brain consumes most of the energy in the body to keep it going. Hence why I eat double or triple what other people eat. And it is all just burnt up.

A: It is just a theory.

S: I think I’ve told you before. When I was born, the nurses couldn’t believe how much milk I was drinking. They’d never seen a new born baby drinking that much milk. I’m naturally intelligent. I don’t have to work hard at things that I’m interested in.

A: Milk for the egotist.

S: I told you that I eat like a king.

A: You are proud of that?

S: You can’t tell? It is a source of great satisfaction. Whatever else happens in this world, I am always eating like a king. Whatever I want. Whenever I want. However much I want. Who else can say that?

disbelief in the london encounter

24.02.2026

S: I’ve lost the will to do. I have disbelief in the London encounter.

A: In what way?

S: Before, I used to sing, act, speak to all these different people in London. I used to know hundreds of people. For about three and a half years, I spent my time trying to meet people in London. It went nowhere.

A: And now?

S: I don’t do any of that stuff.

A: Why?

S: First and foremost, I have someone now that I spend a lot of time with.

A: You don’t need anyone else?

S: No.

A: And the other reasons?

S: It is like what I said. I have disbelief in the London encounter. These people are not friendly. You cannot count them as your close friends. You cannot rely on them. They are cold people.

A: You have never liked Londoners.

S: Who would? All they have is a friendship of convenience. They are fair weather friends. I am lucky that I am not from London. I am lucky that I am not like them.

A: But surely you enjoy acting, singing and talking?

S: Not with fake people. Not with people without a heart.

A: What about your real friends? You have lots of real friends. You told me that when you wanted a party, about twelve of your friends rocked up.

S: We all live on the outskirts of London. They are all open and generous, accepting people. They actually have hearts. Even the one I am with, they live outside of London. The irony is that all these people live in London. You think you will meet someone there. But they are not real people. The city is full of fakes. The reality of this world is that it is hostile. You don’t have real intimacy with most of the people that you meet. You really are surrounded by strangers. They call themselves human when they have no humanity. They make every excuse. I am busy. I am tired. It is too far. But in reality, they cannot accept that you are different from them. But that they exclude on the basis of difference is a good thing. Because no one would ever want to be like them.

A: You have gone from being open to becoming completely closed.

S: I will only try to be friends up to a point. When I see that there is nothing being returned, then it is all over. Then, there is nothing.