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Now, it was her Northerners friends.
They were North Indians. They worked here, including her manager Pure. His name was only Pure, nothing else was in him. Yes, some of his behaviours were rightfully good.
But, not everything. They made more fun and the fun team at one point comprised of people who were only making fun of her, literally bullying her.
The manager had been another person, who complicated it further. His reason was very simple. It was very honest. He was the most intelligent man. We tapped his phone too, and literally into all his friends. We heard them, mocked them for their stupidities and idiotic assumptions.
They laughed in glee often, connived, contrived cunning techniques of bullying further.
They gave her ghosts trying to show the world she was happy with them. Reality was as if not her forte. As if she was herself a ghost. It was stupid how the North Indian community behaved around her.
“We no more would give you what gives you happiness.”
“Shree Punjab is the best.”
“You can’t do it.”
Hoardings after hoardings crept out of the cars, autos and buses.
“Written big for you to see.” That was one hoardings in a bus. The bus conductor smiles at her and indicated her to read it. She was in the auto.
The laughters have always been pressing, idiotic.
Her neighbourhood had people who would scuffle and screeching laughters when she felt anxious and troubled created more harassment.
One day Pure told her,
“What Shrum you took a home, why don’t you arrange parties for us?”
“Bring us in, bring us some nice food, man what are you doing?”
One day, while she was out on a team lunch, she sat on the same table with Pure.
He said to us, “There was a friend of mine, who was a nerd, who was bookish, wore a specs of high power like Shrum. In my previous organisation he worked with us. He showed he was an epitome of perfection. He did not drink, did not smoke, Wow! So, one day we coaxed him for a party and poured liquor on him till he dropped unconscious. After a few days he himself came begging to us for a bottle, for a smoke. We did such things, he could never come up.” He was telling this to a guy, who had been the only person in her office, who had been really able to understand her. He helped her get Shrum’s sister into a project for a month. He did not ask anything for return.
Now, he always had been very kind but sometimes Shrum would discuss with her mother about these men. He had brought a bottle of wine or beer for someone, and sun’s rays threw him out with other reasons. He tried calling Shrum several times, and Shrum did not pick up. It was not her fault. She had spoken about it to her mother. No one asked them to barge into private conversations inside a home which very much belonged to Shrum. Another time she became the scapegoat.
That is illegal still and can only be used by authentic sources after informing the concerned person. Well, she asked him to stop calling. She did not want him harmed in any way, on her name. Reason, she spoke about him on two matters which were not too legal.
“Can you bring beer to office for someone in India?” She asked her mother one day. Now, why was she being considered. She had not spoken to anyone else.
Next her manager one day requested in 2015 for a bottle of wine. Someone within the group delivered it. It was done aloud, a mimicry of the previous process.
It could have just been taken as an ignorance. It can be done, it’s not wrong to gift a bottle and she was happy. Why did they twist it so bad?
Her mother is more simpler and she never approved drinking in the Indian climate. Now, that did not mean she would not approve others doing it, even if she criticised it a bit. We have democracy, free speech in India. Look around, how people speak, I wanted to say. But, then I was a ghost for them.
There were also other times when she faced the wrath in different ways and since we heard the chaos, we knew where it emerged from, it was utter disbelief with which I witnessed it all.
Drinking is never a crime, nor is anything. Criticisms is not also a crime. An entire critic team exists in every profession. People ignore critics when they don’t like the criticism. They don’t take revenge. It’s silly, tremendously impolite, irrevocably hideous.
Enmity can be slight, perhaps. Every small tiny wee bit of actions is regulated immensely. Political correctness is seemed, massive damage is caused.
Could someone be so silly.
Was it politically controlled?
Was it religiously controlled?
Was it caste controlled?
Was it ego controlled?
Well, it’s up to you to decide. We know it for our good.
Are there any differences, or are they simple exhibitions of differences to fool simple people.
The ports are different, but we cannot forget the sea is the same.