00:18 IST
The Bus-Stand-View Room, Colaba
New Delhi, India

Has my life begun yet? Not sure. Bombay is humid. The head feels fatigued. Movement is sluggish. Life is passing me by, and I just stand and stare in a daze.

External - Arrived in Bombay three days ago on Yuva Express, a train created to suffocate mankind. It is a cross between a DTC bus and a toy train. Compartments are tiny, the aisle is narrow, seats are cramped even for a small person like me. 18 excruciating hours from Delhi to Bombay. Have to go back the same way. Never again. My gay friend from Cardiff is slowly getting used to the Indian life - the traffic, chaos, dust, heat, lack of personal space, loud gestures and thoughtless speech. He understands me better now, I hope. I travel. Cabs, locals, autos, feet. Sister is slightly upset with me for not going around with her. Don't think I am that bothered. On to the internal

Internal - A sense if disconnect from the family. Not bothered to meet friends or family in Bombay. Not bothered about consequences. Can't be bothered. They are not going to be of any aid to me in my life. Not a part of aspirations. Not in my thoughts. I wish them well. But I can't be bothered. Hooked up with a friend yesterday. Strangely, felt like I was cheating on the boy-in-my-head-who-exists-in-the-external-reality. Sense tells me to do something about it. Antisense says just go with the flow. Flow feels hot when he is in my thoughts. He makes me feel like a child. Alive. Happy. Nervous. Excited. Need to start some form of an exercise routine soon. Becoming blubbery again. Eeeesh. All for now. Night night

23:02 IST
Toy Room, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

External

Got up at 4:30am. My head felt completely blocked with dripping cotton. No swimming today. Went back to sleep. Got up again at 6am. Went for a walk upstairs. The heat got to me in 15 minutes. Came down. Breakfasted, internetted. Finished reading Metroland. Quite a book. No plot. But such lovely depth into characters. Bathed. Lunched on bhindi roti. Yum. Began to read friend's novella. Thriller. Interesting. Not the best flow of writing though. Met up with a friend. Thinking of playing bang-bang with him. My Y is crying for it. Home. Dinner. Ate chatar-patar. Weight gain on its way. Must control. Now writing to you. Will sleep shortly.

Internal

A mess. Unemployment never did me any good. Have almost made up my mind that a corporate job is an absolute no. The scripting job sounds massively interesting. If only they revert soon. Social research, writing and then communication related stuff for that, that's what I want to be involved in. Small, meaningful projects with more control. Fingers crossed for life to begin soon.

22:48 IST
The Toy Room, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

I realised some things today. A job and an ambition rarely go hand-in-hand. I cannot let a job get in the way of my ambition. Similarly, I cannot let my ambition get in the way of a job I need to do to earn money. If my ambition could give me the monetary pleasures required to sustain the self, life would be laa-dee-daa. But that isn't the case. My ambition is an elusive thing. It exists, I'm sure it exists. It is hovering about, floating somewhere, sans direction. I will discover it some day. It might be the day I dissipate into nature. How free I would feel! But while that journey continues, there must be a source of the tangible income. The income can be gotten through a job. A job is required.

I must maintain a record of the internal and external realities. So that when I am on my deathbed, I can read and smile at the self's strugglesome journey to find the floating feather.

22:34 IST
The Cool Room Downstairs, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

I did get fucked-bloodied-offed. They emailed. They rejected me. A well deserved rejection. Maybe I should reconsider prostitution. At least it gives money, something I quite desperately need.

I realised some things. I get these freakish fountain-like epiphanies while in the jung ka maidan. I do not read news, unless I really have to. Therefore I am not cut-out for journalism. Research - maybe. Journalism - not. Copywriting - I should try. Blogging - get your lazy bum to start something.

I have not been honest enough to myself. I try to figure a way out. Life is not like that. One can't keep figuring a way out. I need to confront myself more bluntly. Sieve the good from the bad. I do not know what I should be doing. Except for the important fact that I really need a job. I feel pretty useless. And fat. Momo.