Torture at sector 14, Gandhinagar

During my travels across Gujarat I heard the term ‘pagal’ which in Gujarati language meant ‘madness’. Amongst priestly castes of Hinduism the name ‘Gandhi’ is also referred to as madness; exemplifying those who were unfortunate to make visit to the Gujarati capital Gandhinagar who more than often if not always returned deranged, mad.

Near the beginning of Melton Road in the city of Leicester there is a Statue of Gandhi, if you sit observing this memorial for long enough you’ll notice Gujarati Indians spitting at him as they walk past. Gandhi being of similar appearance to Jesus the Beggar was used by the British empire through instruction of the Tavistock Institute to break up, destroy India’s Hindu caste system.

After failing to read to the Bala Tripura Yantra my stay at the temple was designated over; a few days after I heard to local women talking in English outside my room door. Responding to a question by the other woman regarding my stay at the Temple trust Guest house the other women stipulated that “I’d be going to a place where people went who were deemed to close to God”.

At the time I thought little nothing of it and a few days busy at the temple had brushed the memory completely by when an invite came from a high caste family to go visit their house in Gandhinagar. I looked back in consultation at the priests and they nodded, In trust I agreed then between them a date was  set.

I was shown the bus from Becharaji station and arrived at Gandhinagar bus station four hours later. Here at the bus terminal I waited for twenty minutes amongst growing public interest in my presence. My guide eventually came, a young man on a motorcycle, with a friendly smile he ushered me to pillion and so we set off for Sector 14 of Gandhinagar.

All dressed up yet no place to go, dissociate in Gandhinagar

On arrival I was introduced to his family, they seemed polite, interesting but reserved. They worked in the wedding business (ceremonies that have been  renowned for hypnotic induction) and as usual in Gujarat custom offered me refreshment. A large middle aged man with a moustache entered and sat down beside me.

Soon joining the gathering came a women who the family referred to as auntie, she lived on her own (being widowed) and so motioned it was that I’d be going to lodge with her in duration of my stay. After placing my small bag of belongings in a near empty room of her house I joined the man with the moustache.

He began to explain to me that he worked for Gujarat state security service for internal affairs and that it was his job to assess the security risk of those entering the country through Gujarat. For a moment he paused, then briefly asked what I thought of the world so with up most honesty I told him.

Next I was introduced to his next door neighbour located to the rear of his house, an elderly gaunt doctor who’s profession was told to be psychiatry, he lived with his wife who had on that day invited me round for afternoon tea. Entering his house I was ushered into what appeared to be his office, he politely welcomed me inside, his wife fetched refreshment as I was seated next to his desk.

Around the room were hundreds of ordainments and on his desk seated a turtle. He proceeded to asked me some questions, after a while I began to feel tired, his wife appeared and offered sleep, I got up and rested here she instructed. I made a number of visits to this house and on my last visit I was offered one of four pictures.

Each of these goddess pictures had rounded plastic backs each with individual colours of red, blue, yellow and green. The doctor instructed me to pick a colour / picture and yellow was the colour I chosen; he told me to keep the picture. This concluded my visit to this house but not revisits of my dissociated memories six months there afterwards.

Terrible waking nightmares would arise, dreams of me fighting to get on my feet, a chair falling over, hands grabbing me and then flash I was gone again. In the slow motion of this picture I could see a silver box with a dial, wires came from the box which I desperately jolted away from. Recall came back again and again but there was little I could do from 6000 miles away back in London.

In effort to recall the mystified days I spent in sector 14 there is little I can actually remember other than getting an appointment to go to a pacific place, being dressed up and awaiting collection only to be told there had been a cancellation; other times I would be turned back whilst in transit.

I still find it hard to believe myself having loved Hindu people so much but ironically it is said about hypnotism that you have to like the hypnotist for hypnotism to work. In retrospective of these unsightly events I’d like to launch a litigation suit against prime minster Narendra Modi who was then Secretary of state for Gujarat at that time.