TRUE EXPERIENCES (minimum fictionalized to save your feelings, I mean it):
CONCLUDING PART OF THE NOVEL:
This time I left no stone unturned. As it was my area I tried every door, my relatives, police, I even wrote letters asking legal suggestions about how to put that activity to a stop. I was suggested to “get proof”, nice, very nice, so now ordinary citizens will have to become sleuth, gather proofs, lodge case in court and get orders to STOP CRIMINAL ACTIVITIES. I just loved that part.
The strange response was from my family. I talked with them, wrote letters to them but all I received was nonchalance and ugly fingers pointed out at myself, why was I unmarried, and all of a sudden I started to hear that I was always suspected by them, well they sure wore their masks to utmost perfection because before going to Rajpur I lived under an illusion that they loved me a lot, whereas they have hated me since eternity, believing that I am indulged in filthiest activities.
May be they did not cared what was going on in that house. Or may be they did and were encashing it. I saw my uncles, the ones who wanted to sell the house having secret meetings with Mandal and his comrades.
This was also possible that my letters were intercepted because Sanjay took care of that before he left I believe.
Shiv’s mother and my mother had a joint fixed deposit. Chanchal used to send me the interest of that account every month. Earlier it was deposited in bank, but that amount was now in Jhumamasi’s hands because I transferred it all to Rajpur.
When Sanjay used to visit he once asked me how was I meeting my needs, I blurted out to him that it was with the money of interest I receive every month. He pried out the way it reaches me and for the next two months the couriers did not came.
Adding up to that, I noted someone used to enter my rooms when I was at Shree’s home because my money and other things were vanishing. So I ended up in dire straits. Chanchal said that he contacted the courier service and they said that the money has reached their Kolkata office. From next month chanchal started to send the money by post. I spent those two months eating one time a day.
Every letter that reached me came open. Someone brazenly opened them and read them. The only exceptions were when the post man handed them in my hands. He was a wonderful guy. Being a resident of that area he most probably knew the condition of that house, so he tried his level best to hand the letters to me, none else. He even used to take them back with him if I was not around.
He retired after a year of my return. The remaining three years I spent in Shangri-la were without a single letter in my name.
It seemed they were hell bent to make me leave my house and there boldness was increasing with every passing day.
Their kingpin was that dog, Partho Mandal, who was once fed by my own hands, treated as own nephew.
His behaviours resembled with those of a rabid dog. Most of the time his activities were not caught but sometimes they were. He seemed to hate every thing I liked.
He used to mercilessly chop of trees which I cared for, break the pots in which I left water for squirrels. No, there was no chance of teaching him a lesson; he had dozens of comrades scratching his back. He was their pet darling.
I slowly realized that I will only lose my own virtues by staying with those soul-less filthy animals. So I decided to leave that place forever.
Any type of discussion with my family members back-fired. It resulted in revitalized attacks. Getting dirtier and dirtier every time. So, after fighting like an idiot for four years, paying the price by ruining my reputation, I decided to erase that family out of my life. To treat myself like an orphan out of orphanage then onwards.
I thought that I have left them behind; my illusion was broken when they followed me to my new area. But by then I have become proof of all their monkey businesses, eaves-dropping, stalking, harassment at street. Cowards often compare brave people with themselves and turn out to be fools. I was only surprised that why were they following me.
Then I met Sulata and my questions were answered. I came to know that she was the manager of a company in which one of my cousins has worked for thirty years.
I recalled that this cousin of mine has placed a lot of my cousins in various jobs, including sons and daughters of both my uncles who were in cahoots with Mandal.
That daughter and grand daughter of that uncle worked in media. And my cousin was manager of a reputed bank in Delhi.
If they were involved with Keshav then I could realize their earnesty to ruin me. Their own blood, who was once adored by them.
I firmly started to believe that Keshav worked through families. That is he forced/lured his employees (?) to trap their own family members. In that way the business will run safely, a lot more safely than if they pick up at random and the families of their victims support them when they escape or are killed.
That is why I was not surprised any more when I met people resembling each other too much again and again. People who had ample amount of similarity with each other, like cousins or relations resemble. They all have one thing in common; they had some serious problem with me from the day one.
Well, two examples to make thing a little clearer, Chanchal’s mother passed away in Rajpur. We had a very close relationship. At that time I was working in an office in kolkata, there was a girl named Soma Dey in that office. I have never set my eyes on her face, yet when she came to know about the mishap she called for a party among her friends, and continued that for next seven days. She was always very cautious to hold all the celebrations near me.
The next office I joined after leaving Sulata’s office, the owner of that office was Marwari but he had quite a similarity with Soma. And I saw a woman in his family album who bore too much similarity with Sulata. They were different but the similarity was awesome. More than one thing happened with me while I worked in that office that can be termed as attempt to harm or kill. Two were quite serious, in both cases my physical agility saved me from being crippled/maimed or killed. Both could be passed off as accidents.
Then the next fraud institute I joined, it again had a young girl with stunning similarity with Sulata. A creepy fellow Arindam Guha, who has worked in my locality as a medical representative for more than ten years. In the area near my college. To add up to that, he lived near my home at that time. So one thing was for sure, Keshav was into something ugly and his dogs were going to be on my heels for the rest of my life.
There were so many things in blue star which were not at all natural. The immense wealth of the employees. Their audacity of mistreating their boss’s relatives. And another weird thing. The thing which first made me certain that there was some thing creepy going on in there.
Well, just like every office there were more than a dozen employees. Now each of them had a name of their own. And during the last month of my stay in Blue Star I became confident of one thing that the names remain same but the men change. They have bunched up people with slight or more similarity and keep shuffling them. A person’s every thing can change but his eye’s colours can’t change. I have seen one man with three colours of retina. No he did not wear a contact lens. Was it some kind of cover up? Officially he was present here but actually he was somewhere else, doing something?
Second thing happened in my swimming lessons; there were at least a dozen more swimmers when I joined. After a month or so they asked me about myself. I told them, they all vanished next day. I met one of the women later on street but her companion rudely called her away within a minute.
There was a visible disrespect for Keshav and Jhuma; I thought it was because of the type of their relationship but not any more. If it was something that trifle it would have ended in Rajpur, no one would have followed me back to Kolkata and hounded me thereafter.
Every job I joined after returning from Rajpur had something to do with either Chartered Accountants, lawyers, people immersed in debt or people locked in legal battle.
And these employers and their employees were universally hostile to me. Hostile and nasty.
Keshav’s brother published a monthly journal on law and income tax. He had a strong customer base all over India.
Later Chanchal pointed it out to me, may be with his money and spies he is forcing me to always end up in the clutches of his victims or pet dogs. So that I end up frustrated or commit suicide or he could happily brand me lunatic or utter failure. Cite me as an example of fury of his “God’s hand” to his other victims.
During the last three years I was in Shangri-la I worked on myself and came out as a person I was satisfied with. A person without any attachment or weakness.
A woman they could not hit from any angle any more. Every time they ruined some thing from my life I conquered my desire for that thing.
After all, its desire which torments us. If we destroy the desire no human being will ever be able to torment us.
This mindset delivered me from all the filth and cruelty which the showered down on me.
They left me with only one goal, wherever or whenever I will get a chance I will share my story with others. So that they never get to ruin another innocent person.
V. lessons learnt by second meeting:
My second meeting with Sulata cleared half or may be more of my confusions.
She was now a daughter of a very rich Bengali man (LOL), wife of a manager of a reputed company and manager of another reputed company herself.
I have by then known that Sanjay was not Shruti or Chanchal’s friend. It was a black lie. They both denied ever knowing him. Even when Chanchal met him face to face a few times he did not showed any sign of knowing Chanchal from his college days.
Her staffs near my home (I will include Chaitali and her sisters and Sanjay therein) tried there level best to prove that I have psychiatric problems.
I was at a time surprised by the weird ways of their acting. Eavesdropping then brazenly letting me know, mocking me.
Then after my meeting with Sulata, after two or three failed attempts of killing or maiming me I joined a fraud institute. I was tired of being stalked by her dogs everywhere so I thought about doing something home based.
When I went to the original building I was referred to another address where they have shifted.
I firmly believe one of my net friends is either Sulata, some one she can trust or her Bengali mother. That person pried out my plans so expertly that I believe she is most probably a woman. So let me refer to her as “she”, she knew my plans of joining this institute. She was always in touch with me when those accidents happened, well, cell phones can be used to pin point your location or point you out in a crowd.
On my way to the institute I met Sulata’s Kolkata father. He did not note me but I did. Because he is a strikingly handsome man.
Next I saw one of her Kolkata staff’s Ragini Singh standing in a hi-fi shop there.
Finally I met an extremely hostile girl in that institute who had so much similarity with sulata that when I showed her sulata’s photograph she cringed.
Now this institute deals with psychiatric problems and their treatment. I noted with great amusement that the fears they were trying me to speak out were all psychiatric problems. Stalking, eavesdropping, hostility of strangers. Someone conspiring against you.
That office was situated opposite the office of the company in which Sulata was manager and my cousin has worked for thirty hears.
There are three types of people expert in stalking, detective agencies, media and intelligence. I had two of them in very close quarters. Media and detective agency. Mandal has worked for an agency which supplied security guards and worked as paid detective for years.
My uncles who have kept Mandal family in the home, one of their daughters has worked in media for years. She has even trained her daughter and placed her in media.
Small and big things exposed their game to me. I remember how Sanjay told me once; if you want to ruin someone’s reputation, don’t let her hear, let the neighbours hear the lies.
A thing I have seen happen to many times afterwards. They used to target the people I mixed with and slowly succeeded in alienating me in my own locality, well they had my family to help them; otherwise I don’t know how much they would have succeeded.
So, standing here I know that Keshav did had a deep connection with people surrounding me. May be for years.
I believe they must have mistaken me for a normal Indian woman who will commit suicide or go insane. They failed to realize a big truth, every one does not crawls or lies down to die. That is why truth is still alive in this earth.
I heard so many canards spread about me after my return from Rajpur that I became canard-proof. They destroyed so many things I liked that I rose above attachment. Every angle they chose to hit me they failed and I rose far higher above them.
The higher I rose the more determined I became that if I get a chance I will expose them, so that their dirty empire crumbles down to the hell along with them. The place where they belong.
THE REST OF THE STORY: magicthought.wordpress.com/honey-trap-a-novel/