Neetha Joseph's Blog

Keep your eyes peeled for controlling behaviours

Angela, Nawal, Jamie. Have you heard these names before? They are real life victims of Infinite Partner Violence whose survival stories compel us to think about those who are unaware of their partners’ snares as they are clueless about the latter’s abusive ways. “Why Intimate Partner Violence?” you may ask. It is for my current project involving the mind, which aim at shedding some light on the intricate workings of the human mind. Since it is customary for me to blog about topics that I research for my creative projects, I have made a conscious effort to record my sincere attempt to understand this condition. In Angela’s case, her male partner, Barry, chose control as the modus operandi to victimise her. What started as control over her communication channels such as her phone and her internet activities then extended to emotional abuse and isolation by preventing her from seeing even her family. He resorted to extremities such as threatening Angela with a knife whenever she spoke with her family members in her home language. Nawal on the other hand dealt with a partner, who when exposed, promised to stop his abusive behaviour and the physical violence but never really did. After a long struggle, Nawal emerged victorious eventually and led a life of happiness.  In comparison with the former women, it is Jamie who achieved the impossible by not only surviving an abusive relationship after extricating herself completely from what brought her down but by becoming a confident and powerful advocate and speaker about domestic violence.

https://lens.monash.edu/@politics-society/2023/03/14/1385531/the-barriers-to-identifying-intimate-partner-sexual-violence

Like you might have guessed, these stories and a few other revelations assumed the form of raw materials for my next composition in a forthcoming anthology revolving around ‘subconsciousness’. Such ventures never take off without research, and research confirm that abusive partners usually begin their process of victimisation with isolation to weaken their victims psychologically. Cut off from any meaningful or strong relationships, the victims are drained off their inner strength with no support or persons who could help them comprehend their situation. Social restriction is another act of deliberation through which the abusers try to become their only point of reference.  Excluding the victims from social circles where they used to be welcomed through a strategy of cunning manipulation by turning the members of those social circles against them, the abusers force the former to self-exclude themselves thereby contributing to their isolation further, and using this method of exclusion as a trump card they humiliate and reject the victims. Having achieved this, the abusers next approach is to provoke the victims’ negative emotions such as fear, terror, pain, suffering, shame, embarrassment, anger, etc., and control them when they react in the anticipated ways, which leads to their loss of credibility with others and the power they have over their varied situations. The abusers have shown tendencies to resort to threats, intimidations, reproach, blackmails, insults, blames, ridicules, etc., if the aforementioned strategies fail to produce the desired results.

It is unfortunate that  even victims subjected to a person-centred treatment where the healing process is based on building a sense of freedom, self-worth, and a life free from abuse, to therapies including group therapy, counselling, support, and skill building, continue to suffer from mental health issues such as anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, post traumatic disorder, etc., physical health issues such as insomnia, choking sensations, gastrointestinal and other pains, and behavioural changes such as difficulties in future relationship, fear of their partners, and withdrawal from friends and family. Total recovery from the damages of IPV is rare as it takes time for psychiatrists or psychoanalysts to identify the multiple stressors and address those based on their own assessments or those provided by other service providers and is only possible with ongoing treatment. Perfect theme for chilling conclusions, don’t you think?  

Succession of calamitous situations

A crash or a smash? A vibration shook my entire body as an unknown vehicle collided into my standing hybrid at the T intersection from behind. As the sound waves reached my ears confirming that it was a collision indeed, the impact transferred kinetic energy from the moving vehicle to my waiting one at the red signal that had just turned green which involuntarily tightened my grip on the steering wheel as I sensed the vehicle move forward despite the application of breaks. I froze, simultaneously enduring the bone-breaking nightmare and a certain aching hollowness in the winter evening. None stopped to get my attention, check on me, or steer to a safe zone to exchange driver license details. To my shock, I lacked the will to step out and assess the damage to my vehicle. On that dark and trafficky evening, around 6:00 PM, my only concern was to reach home to my son without losing my way on that unfamiliar route. While collecting my wits together before continuing the journey, I noticed a European man looking into my car, and at me, with disbelief before taking a right turn at the intersection. Without further disasters, I reached home in one piece and shared the unfortunate accident with my son whose reactions and priorities befuddled me.

Later that night, in its soothing stillness and in the comfort of my room, I wondered if the driver behind the ‘hit and run’ imagined himself to be James Bond or Batman driving a high-performance vehicle that could transform itself into a flying car or pass through my vehicle and emerge unscathed on the other side. No logic explained the driver’s attitude of ignoring a standing vehicle immediately in front of his 4WD on the same lane. Agreed that the light just turned green, but to overlook any driver’s right to assess the area as safe before proceeding straight at the intersection seemed preposterous to me. As it was my first trip to Baulkham Hills and back, I was unsure if a right turn would have led me to a less trafficky zone even if the one who ran into my bumper had steered me away to exchange the required details. Clueless about the damage the collision had caused to the front of his vehicle, I struggled to accept the losses I incurred: a damaged bumper and an unopenable boot.

One and a half months later, I relived the nightmare on my way to file my tax returns, on Pembroke Road at the traffic lights near Western League Club, Campbelltown, with Old Leumeah Road to its right.  A sparsely trafficked road with the specified speed limit of 60 Km/h turned disastrous when the said lights changed from green to amber forcing me to suddenly stop to prevent myself from running the red lights: the gap between the amber and red light being a count of 1 to 5.  What should have been a smooth journey was brought to an abrupt halt with a loud rear end collision which had steered my hybrid to the kerb. Clutching my steering wheel with my life, oscillating between a blank state of mind and the shocking present, I helplessly watched the rustic-brown coloured 4WD bearing the registration DN-04-?? disappear from my vision’s range. A knock on the left side window glass distracted me and I lowered my glass only to find two concerned ladies ask me if I was alright. The younger lady of the two showed me a photo of the back of the ‘perpetrator 4WD’ on her mobile phone, simultaneously asserting that the accident was deliberate for the flight of the driver from the scene of the accident confirmed it. Call it mind-numbing, abstracted, oblivious or vacant. Instead of requesting the young woman who had the presence of mind to take the photo to share it with me, by giving her my mobile number, I chose to rely on my unreliable memory, foolishly entertaining the thought ‘How hard is it to remember a combination of letters and digits (6)?’ I replied that I was okay and because of the proximity to my tax agent’s office via Sullivan Road I shied from getting out of the vehicle and assessing the actual extent of the damage caused by the collision. On reaching the destination, I assessed the damage and surrendered to delayed raging.

Shouldn’t the driver have anticipated sudden breaking when the light turned amber? Shouldn’t he have been prepared to apply the brakes himself in response to the amber light if he was a person who obeyed traffic rules? Does he not know that it is unlawful to drive too closely to a vehicle in New South Wales and that it could fetch him demerits? Is he unaware about the minimum three seconds gap behind the vehicle in front which knowledge could have given him enough time to react and avoid crashing? Has he no idea that tailgating in New South Wales is a traffic offence, is illegal, and could fetch him a fine of approximately $500?  What about the damages he caused to his own vehicle even if it is slight?

@drivingtestaustralia

How far should you stop behind a car at a traffic light? When you stop behind other cars at a traffic light, make sure you can still see the tyres of the front car, especially if the road is hilly. Maintaining a safe distance between you and the front car when stopping temporarily on the road is a safety measure. #safedistance #drivingtest #drivinglesson #drivingtesttips #drivingtestaustralia #drivinginstructor #drivingschool #fyp #foryou

♬ original sound – Driving Test Australia

Remembering the registration number of the accident-causing-4WD could have led to a fortune reversal as in getting my vehicle fixed without having to spend a dollar. Having failed to remember and finding myself in a situation to spend for smash repairs, a rustic-brown-colored 4WD (Toyota Kluger or Honda) haunts me in my sleep and wherever I go. It also makes me wonder if there is a third hit and run in the offing. Only the God of Death would know!

Is picking others’ wounds until it festers a strategy nowadays?

A phrase or imperative sentence that I overheard a few times in recent days compelled me to investigate to find out its connection or relevance to normal people’s lives and those in the workforce. I realized then that this unwritten, unprofessional policy has been followed by people in personal lives without knowing its negative repercussions besides the bullies in workplace who scapegoat others and ruin other employee’s opportunities just to make it to the top and leaders who with or without the knowledge of their employers plot their subordinates’ constructive dismissal. While I found the ways in which the criminality is followed or being implemented, a subject of interest, I sought the assistance of psychological studies to comprehend the policy’s vicious users’ motives.

In personal lives, if individuals pick on their own wounds until it festers, it has been pointed out to me by many reliable sources that the silent sufferers do so because of their inability to extricate themselves from their unpleasant or conflicting past and move on in their lives. Little do they realize that by repeatedly thinking about the injustices that they are delaying the healing of their wounds which heals in due course of time with other diversions or hectic daily schedules. For those who are unable to stop picking on their own wounds, external help from the right persons or groups could help them find solace and emerge triumphant from the ordeal. However, when others choose to pick on a specific individual’s wounds repetitively in the hope that it will fester beyond recovery eventually, the story is not only different but also intriguing and definitely calls for further exploration.

Sources that are related to psychology reveal the myriad reasons why people indulge in this sort of bullying, intimidation, or harassment. Low self-esteem and insecurity have topped the long list of reasons for many years. Social hierarchies and the need to elevate their social status have influenced several to put others down only to project themselves as better than their victims who could be their competition in some way. The scientific observation that people who have been bullied then turn around and bully others as a coping mechanism to beat the stress or trauma experienced is not novel to a great majority. Insecure relationships pressure people to resort to unacceptable behaviour either in their search for secure and stable relationship or to win the favour of others to whom they yearn to belong.

When the setting is workplace, the people who pick on co-workers’ wounds until it is very damaging do so because of varied reasons such as professional jealousy, intoxication for power, desire for control, the victims’ popularity or differences, poor leadership’s impact, toxic work culture, etc. According to the findings of Workplace Bullying Institute, “Workplace bullies target those who have talent because they either feel inferior or they worry that their work is being overshadowed by the other employee’s work and abilities. Bullying bosses, in particular, may target skilled workers and either steal the credit or undermine he target’s work.” Gender, age, race, sexual preference, religion also are a few other reasons why workplace bullies pick on co-workers. As pointed out by Sherry Gordon (Very Well Mind), it is impossible to overlook the inherent and unique characteristics of people who misuse power and abuse authority to victimize other employees. It is also useful to know the bullies’ patterns of behaviour such as isolating the victims from work/social events, invading the victims’ personal space, denying privacy, directing their suppressed rage at the victims, threatening the victims with all sorts of consequences besides demeaning and belittling them, scandalising and slandering victims without any evidence, and being in denial after having behaved in an atrocious manner.

Satisfied with the data I gathered about the tendencies and triggers of practitioners of the “pick on the wound until it festers” belief, I researched about ways in which they could be combatted. As per research, timely reporting, building assertiveness skills, maintaining accurate records which could be useful if seeking help (internal or external) and developing knowledge about individual and employee rights are a few ways in which the bullies could stop the workplace bullies from continuing. Be vigilant to earn freedom! (modified Desmond Tutu’s quote) Turn your wounds into wisdom!

A literati without a suitable job

In between casual assignments, I finally found the time to share my perspectives about what is usually defined as a suitable job. Being a well educated person with more than half a dozen qualifications in both related and different disciplines, and an author and a self-publisher, the fact that I am a jobseeker with technical, soft, and transferable skills gained from my previous employments having functioned in varied roles and from years of study still looking for a suitable job in the autumn of my life sheds light on the inequities in society and non-alignment on several levels. It’s almost five years now since there has been a shift from the productive stage to a passive one and not once have I had agencies either contracted to Centrelink or providers partnered with Workforce Australia ask me a about my educational qualifications or work experience. That did not stop me from rightly or mistakenly assuming that the concerned authorities or individuals would have accessed my profile and taken the necessary steps to verify my qualifications to increase my chances of employability. However, when one of the providers had come up with the arrangement of sending me to St Vincent De Paul’s Society to arrange both used clothes in good condition and the new outfits donated by communities, they sowed the seeds of suspicions in my mind. My doubts about their ability to find me a suitable job grew, which led me to research the definition of ‘suitable job’.

To present my findings in a nutshell, a suitable job is “one that matches an individual’s skills, abilities, interests, and needs”; one that uses an individual’s existing skills to find new opportunities in his/her preferred work environments in which he/she can flourish; one that suits an individual’s personal and professional goals; one that aligns with an individual’s passions and allows him/her to experience what is usually termed as job satisfaction; and one that provides an individual a reasonable salary with which he or she can purchase a comfortable life. Sounds so simple and yet so challenging. The longer it takes for an individual to land in such a suitable job, the greater the complications are; complications such as explaining the gap to prospective employers, facing stiff competition from fresh graduates in the specific discipline, difficulty in gaining the consent of referees to include them as references in a well-written resume, inadequate experience for want of opportunities, and the tendency of recruiters to veto the applications of applicants who have applied before and rejected before or after the interview stage. Under the circumstances, prospects look bleak when the providers or job coaches ignore your skills, qualifications, accumulated experience, and force you in to careers for which you are neither qualified nor motivated.

The tendency of the agencies and the providers to accommodate jobseekers in an industry where they have contacts irrespective of whether their choices suit the jobseekers’ personality or their financial needs is growing. The agencies’ or providers’ assumptions or beliefs about ‘on demand jobs’ could set the jobseekers up for failures. Why the providers or relevant agencies fail to see each individual as a separate case baffles me? Why they shy away from approved Non-Government Programs remains a mystery to me! The Department of Employment and Workplace Relations defines, “a Non-Government Program (NGP) as a training and work experience activity approved by the Department (the department) that individuals can undertake to increase their skills and employability so that have a high likelihood of securing sustainable employment for participants who are referred to the placement”. This seems to be the only solution to my current predicament as it solves the aforementioned problems such as lack of opportunities, inadequate experience, lack of chances to improve skills necessary to function in the role effectively, and the lack of reliable references. As rightly stated by the French philosopher Voltaire, “No problem can withstand the assault of sustained thinking.”

Enhancing productivity and creativity!

Virtual disappearance! The causation being busy schedules, participation in paid projects, and study. The closure of 2025 marking operations led to the beginning of another, which required me to perform invigilation duties, besides enrolment in Google AI Essentials. Fascinated by the unlimited possibilities with conversational AI tools, especially Google Gemini, my excitement grew with each successful effort at prompt engineering fetching me more accurate output than the others. ‘Operation Sindoor’ reminded me about the never-ending conflicts between the involved countries, where the leaders were left with no other option but to replace procrastination with decisive action, even if the action could lead to disastrous consequences.

I decided to put the recently acquired skill to test by requesting Gemini to help me compose a blogpost on a related topic by drafting my prompt as, ‘I am Neetha Porathur Joseph, a blogger on my own blogsite ‘A Writer’s Exposé’. Help me write a blogpost about never ending conflicts and how there comes a time when indecisiveness needs to be substituted with a stern action’. I have included the outcome in this blog post as it is, without iterating, with the intention of acknowledging Google Gemini as the author of the composition below:

The Paralysis of Perpetual “Maybe”: When Indecision Needs a Decisive Blow

Image taken from Harvard Business Review

We live in a world saturated with conflict. From the microscopic battles within our own minds to the grand, sweeping narratives that shape history, friction seems to be an inherent part of the human experience. We weigh pros and cons, endlessly debate possibilities, and often find ourselves caught in the relentless tug-of-war of “what if?”

As a writer, I often explore these internal and external skirmishes. The nuanced dance between opposing forces can be fertile ground for compelling narratives. But there’s a point, isn’t there, where the endless analysis, the perpetual “maybe,” ceases to be thoughtful and instead becomes a form of paralysis?

Think about it. How many times have you witnessed a conflict – personal, professional, even global – drag on, not because a resolution is impossible, but because the fear of making the “wrong” choice outweighs the desire for any resolution at all? We become so entrenched in weighing every single variable, anticipating every potential outcome, that we become incapable of simply acting.

This isn’t about reckless impulsivity. It’s about recognizing the moment when the scales of deliberation have tipped too far. When the cost of inaction – the stagnation, the emotional drain, the missed opportunities – becomes far greater than the potential risk of deciding, even an imperfect one.

There comes a time when the intricate web of “ifs” and “buts” needs to be cut through with a decisive action. It might not be the perfect solution, it might even carry its own set of challenges, but it breaks the inertia. It forces a shift. It opens the door for a new reality to emerge, one that was previously locked behind the bars of indecision.

Consider the stories we tell, the histories we study. Often, the turning points aren’t marked by flawless planning, but by a moment of bold action, a willingness to step forward even when the path ahead isn’t crystal clear.

So, the next time you find yourself caught in the quicksand of endless deliberation, ask yourself: has the time for gentle weighing passed? Is it time to substitute the comforting ambiguity of “maybe” with the sharp clarity of a decisive “yes” or “no”?

Sometimes, the greatest act of progress isn’t finding the perfect answer but simply choosing a direction and moving forward. The conflict might not vanish entirely, but at least it will have shifted. And in that shift, there’s always the potential for growth, for learning, and ultimately, for resolution.

Adding laurels to my crown

Known for storytelling via different genres since 2017, with the successful graduation of Google Data Analytics Professional Certificate from Coursera, my journey as a data storyteller has commenced. My specialisation being English Literature, which I validated by completing Graduate Diploma in Education to pursue a career as a secondary educator and later transitioned into librarianship when Curtin University awarded me Graduate Diploma in Library Studies, I must admit that I have been sceptical about finishing the course with flying colours. Other than basic spreadsheet skills and recordkeeping skills which I have gained from a Certificate III Business(Records and Information Management), I have been regarding myself as an illiterate in this discipline having no prior knowledge or understanding about Structured Query Language and R Programming Language.

Kudos to Coursera!  Even an unsystematic person like me could be transformed into an analytical and skilled individual with Coursera’s dynamic instructors’ self-paced video tutorial which breathed their expertise in the subjects they are passionate about, the insightful readings, the quizzes, a variety of activities including hands-on activities, and the final assessments, is nothing short of a miracle. Call it the psychology of motivation or the ‘Pygmalion effect’! One success with a 90+ score have led me to another, influencing me to put in the required effort to taste similar feats. Before I realised it, I have completed all the eight courses and have become a data analyst with increased problem solving, decision making, and research skills.

Currently, I am honing my R programming skills by creatively solving case studies and writing reusable code chunks that are not only simple but also serves multiple purposes like data cleaning, etc., a venture that earned me a few badges on Kaggle including an R Coder one. I intend to use data in my Tableau interactive dashboard to tell my career story post migration to Australia, which could interest my prospective potential employers and provide them with an insight about who I really am.

https://www.coursera.org/account/accomplishments/specialization/CO5ZJETULZ41

Duking it out!

Following the hijack of my LinkedIn profile, which was in someone else’s control, for beyond doubt, a LinkedIn account holder in Uganda seized both my profile and company page which failed my login details and the two-step identification in place. My desperate efforts to establish contact with the LinkedIn support team had me crawling the walls as it required a sign in. It was ridiculous that LinkedIn forced me to create a new account just to complain about account access issues when the usual process was to submit an online enquiry/complaint form with my LinkedIn profile’s address and the email I used for log in purposes. If you think my miseries ended there, more was in store for me, especially since several hours of attaching images of qualifications, sharing links such as that of My eQuals Australia, Coursera, adding skills and description to the different profile sections went down the drain when my new account also fell into the hands of cybercriminals.

On second thoughts, my hunch that it could be the handiwork of petty identity thieves grew stronger than ever when I researched about the former’s motivations. Most reliable sources confirmed that identity thieves committed the said crime for financial gains, revenge, or to hide another crime or a stealing disorder called Kleptomania influenced the deed. My infuriation knew no bounds when I stumbled upon resources, especially those closely tied to Psychology, which labelled identity thieves as attention seekers who committed crimes so that others would notice them. If you were to listen to the speaker in the video talk about the ordeals victims of identity theft continue to face, you would transform yourself into an executioner involuntarily.

While pulling my hair about how to manage the said crisis, to make matters worse, I came across an article published on LinkedIn by Neal Han titled as ‘How hackers are using fake LinkedIn profiles to steal your information. According to this article, a security company discovered that identity thieves created LinkedIn profiles to launch “spear phishing” attacks against people who have high profile social media presence. I could not dispense the feeling that they victimised me. The fact that the hackers of my account could be suffering from Antisocial Personality disorder, which made them disregard social norms or the rights of others; Bipolar disorders, which increased their risk-taking behaviours motivating them to steal without taking the consequences into consideration; and alcohol or drug addiction which could persuade them to find new ways to generate income for supplies of substances and spirits, was not reassuring to me in any way.

I fought back and recovered my main profile which has the company page linked to it because I cannot afford to lose my personality, dreams, and aspirations to an undeserving individual or group. That is not all. I will continue to wage a war against those who use technology to exploit me psychologically.  

Steering myself away from satanic verses

Situationally flung into a well of despair due to unforeseen circumstances, I found myself in a metaphoric inferno from which escape seemed impossible and anticipated my unexpected encounter with Satan and brainwashed by satanic verses.  2024 has witnessed no remarkable changes in my life other than my desperate efforts to emerge from the current bleakness that surrounds my life through both creative and professional development opportunities.  The constant struggle to make ends meet continued as the year advanced and is continuing into 2025. While cruising through the burning sands of life, the oasis of created opportunities not only provided relief to me but inspired me to persevere, despite all odds, and add more laurels to my crown. Retrospectively, the annual recording of what I regard as achievements in my corner(blogsite) is not only a reflective practice but symbolic like the rainbow; the sighting of which guarantees the seer a good omen.

A venture that I began towards the end of 2020, my memoir, titled ‘A Recusant’s Incarnation’ was completed in the first week of March 2024. I published the e-book first as was customary with my WORDMAGIC PUBLISHING ISBN, which was followed by the paperback with Amazon issued standard book number, which displays that the book is copyrighted on the thumbnail. Promotion of 100 copies by listing a giveaway via Amazon Kindle and Goodreads is the usual marketing strategy I adopt following the successful creation and publishing and in the case of the memoir, I did not deter from the norm even though it was not executed immediately.

A significant leadership opportunity that came my way in the beginning of the year is via the 2024 NAPLAN marking operation which I completed successfully and stayed afloat until I received my tax refunds which hauled me out of the financial hardship situation a second time caused by my inability to find stable employment.

Paid volunteering, a first-time project, provided me with a different exposure, ranging between ridiculousness and infuriation, and assisted me in accumulating points for Centrelink’s reporting period effortlessly. The remittances, from this enterprise, were used for various purposes such as self-indulgences, monthly payments for my publisher website my blogsite, memberships, etc.

What might seem like a period of dormancy to others, appeared productive to me with my efforts to upskill myself through the completion of four out of the eight courses of Google Data Analytics Professional Certificate offered by Coursera with good scores. Juggling between projects, I struggled to manage time effectively.

An invoice issue caused by a distributor and my inability to resolve it despite several efforts besides logical explanations and stop the distributor from removing my e-book of ‘The Aeon of Improbable Scams’ without my consent from all participating retail stores led to the republishing of my already published second book as the second edition of the copy. Currently working on republishing the paperback as well before that is removed from the stores or it runs out of stock, which has delayed the progress with my project titled ‘Forest of subconsciousness’ and turning my Doctor of Philosophy thesis into a book.

Isn’t an idle man’s mind a devil’s workshop? In pursuing enriching and rewarding projects and spending my time productively, I have not allowed satanic suggestions to sway me but challenged prevalent and stereotypical notions about jobseekers or the unemployed. On this new day of a new year, I wish all the visitors to my blogsite a fun-filled, productive, and prosperous ‘Happy New Year!’

Speak up if you desire a progressive multicultural community!

On the threshold of Xmas, seeing hundreds and hundreds of shoppers milling out of the shopping centres like the Westfield in Mount Druitt, I thought touching about customer inclusivity would not be out of context altogether. A month ago, my son and I, determined to get takeaway for the night, waited patiently for a payment to fall into the nominated account as was customary, every week, on the Tuesday, ever since I accepted a paid volunteering opportunity. Unfortunately, the anticipated payment came through only at 8:00 p.m.

After ordering items from a middle eastern restaurant, I thought, since ALDI store was just on the opposite side of the restaurant, it would be a good idea to hop in for a dessert and a bottle of wine, especially since the store was renowned for its liquor and the special buys with good quality wine priced as low as $3.99. I entered the ALDI store in Zoe Place, to which I had never been before, and amidst announcements that warned customers of the store’s closing time, I raced through the aisles, picked up two dessert boxes, and unable to find the liquor section asked a customer who informed me that the store did not have the section I was looking for. To my added annoyance, the self-checkout machines had no cash option. Clutching a $50 note in hand, I joined the queue to pay for the desserts. When I noticed the staff at the counter handing the recent catalogues to the departing customers, especially the one that had information about discounted liquor in the last few pages, I couldn’t keep what I was mulling over in my head to myself any longer. My turn to pay for the items came and I seized the opportunity to point out that the store had excluded customers like me by not opting for the liquor section and the meaninglessness of distributing catalogues to customers when the store had vetoed out items listed on a few pages in those catalogues. Having had my say, I left the store as quickly as I could.

In the twenty-one years that I had lived in Sydney, I had never been to an ALDI store that did not have the much talked about and the award-winning liquor section in it.  Since I had not considered the possibility of stores having the freedom to veto certain sections, deciding to arm myself with the required knowledge, I spent a few minutes on the internet, and was surprised to learn that there were alcohol free ALDI stores in America and that not all the stores in Australia sold the beverage contrary to my belief. I also learnt that to be able to sell liquor, the store was required to apply for a licence. Since businesses strove for profits and this section guaranteed profits besides being able to step up to the competition offered by Liquorland, BWS, Bottlemart, and other stores I might not be aware of in the area, I was not in consensus with the choices of the local store especially if its choice kept customers like me out of the store.

Currently, businesses cannot afford to overlook customer inclusivity. Not many would have reacted and responded to the absence of a section in a store the way I had, however, to justify my spontaneous response, it was triggered by a little voice in my head that hoped for change. One could argue that the area was not without other similar stores, and I could have shopped in one of those stores for the desired item instead of making a mountain out of a mole. To that, all I can say is, it is the familiarity with other ALDI stores in differed parts of Sydney that gave birth to my expectations and compelled me to interpret the situation as not just a matter of customer inclusivity but also a matter of cultural inclusivity.  Since we are a part of multiculturalism, the various suburbs in the city or the city would be a better place if all stores, despite its leanings towards a specific dominant culture, cater to the needs of customers belonging to all cultures.

The making of the ‘Forest of Subconsciousness’ project

A sample of my forthcoming project. Still waiting for the muses to inspire me for the perfect ending.

Unfathomable? Nebulous postulation? The sudden aversion? Claustrophobic waves suffocated me as reality struck me. Overwhelmed and threatened, I darted out for a draught. News about his arrival pounded in my ears with such loudness that it drowned the natural sounds around me. Picturesqueness of my paradise failed to lure me as a certain abhorrence had claimed my being from the moment I received the unfortunate tidings. Unpleasant memories surfaced and resurfaced, which I shoved to the back of my mind with surprising vehemence.

‘Why did I hate him so much?’ I asked, afraid to discover the real answers.

‘Should I blame him for my mindblindness?’

 My racing thoughts increased my running speed unconsciously. A minute’s hesitation to slow down could have exploded my heart I thought as pain seared through my chest. As my breathing slowed down, I scanned the area for an ideal spot to come to terms with myself.

An old stone bench overlooking the waters of Covelly beach, where I was born and raised, beckoned me invitingly for a quick introspection and I fell for its irresistible charm. Gazing unfocussed at the carelessly strewn fishing boats on the glimmering morning waters and at once-upon-a-time fishing cottages showing signs of modernization at the distant end of Robertson Park, I began my quest with reluctance.

I harboured a distinctive hatred for my older sibling, which hailed mostly from the fear of being exposed for I dared to execute the unthinkable. Tired of life’s unfair treatment and society’s nepotism, my desire for vengeance got the better of me. Prematurely born, those near and distant alike, anticipated delayed development in me and never thought of me as capable of remarkable feats. I cruised through my formal education without trying hard for fear of disappointing them. Witnessing years of adulations showered by friends and family on Theodore, my only sibling who was eight years older than me, the intelligent and the high achiever in the community, the boiling infuriation within the furnace of my mind reached volcanic heights.

Sure of being misjudged as a jealous entity if I shared my genuine concerns, the thirst for revenge in me, a well-hidden iceberg, could only be quenched by removing the cause for ever from the surface of the earth; revenge against the heartless, discriminatory, power, and money hungry courtesan named Society, who seduced people like Theodore with promises of intoxicating pleasures, successes, prosperity, and recognition only after extracting the blood out of them. It was not everybody’s commendations that got under my skin but the sneers, the insults, and the humiliating comparisons with my archenemy who climbed the ladder of success effortlessly while my flourishment became stunted since childhood, curtailing the possibilities of adding laurels to my crown. Thirty years of age, dependent on parents, oscillating between unstable employments and inconstant relationships, I resolved to end the torturous existence with a mastermind.

Fear descended on my dark soul as the legal ramifications of my backfired sinister scheme dawned on me. Apprehensions of a long-withheld secret’s revelation gnawed at me. A sudden chill crept on me as I envisioned the adverse reactions on familiar faces when things would be brought to light. The increasing warmth of the morning sun on my exposed skin made me conscious of my surroundings. The distant lapping of the waves, the floating occasional conversations of the boat owners, the guest appearances of kookaburras on the trees in the vicinity, and the excited chatter of outsiders or whom I regarded as tourists who strayed to my chosen locus with a deliberation, were ineffectual in soothing my jangled nerves. The caresses of the bracing sea breeze, incapable of pacifying my tension-wrought mind, preferred pursuing other attractive options.  

‘How can I face him now?’

Imprisoned by a sense of impending doom, I realised I had no other choice but to take flight. The negativity welling within me was nothing like the adrenaline rush I experienced when I played God; issuing a non-verbal ultimatum; cutting the thread of life of my most esteemed rival.

Daisy and Rob’s faces, streaked with happiness, floated before my mind’s eye. The incident, which all believed to be an accident, had shaken my parents who were simple folks leading less complicated lives. Busying themselves with preparations to receive Theodore, whose discharge from the hospital in a week’s time was an occasion that called for celebration with a small gathering, both conveyed the message that intensified my current despair. 

It was a perfect plan befitting a perfect occasion. No suspicions. No evidence. Memories of science lessons coupled with experience gained from several odd jobs inspired me to hatch an improbable plot.  Theodore missed death only by a hair’s breadth. As he lay writhing in pain, struggling to breathe and summon help at the same time, I walked into his room to remove every trace of evidence that could link the forthcoming tragic occurrence to me. Smug with satisfaction, sighting the definite outcome of my sheer brilliance, my face wore an expression that bordered on derision. A few miscalculations dictated how the rest of my life would be. A classic case of man proposes God disposes.

What was eating me from the inside was my indecisiveness; my inability to arrive at a resolution.

‘Had Theodore lost his consciousness before sighting me slip the mask on or after?’

Shortly after I marched out of Theodore’s room, Daisy had walked in to remind him about his medication. His respiratory system was not as strong as mine; the only advantage I had over him. Revelry was over but guests outstayed their invitation. Perhaps it was Daisy and Rob’s hospitality that they relied on more than the festive occasion. The couple, though in their sixties, continued to impress all with their astonishing dynamisms. Married at a young age, both worked hard to keep their families close knit despite all odds. Little did they realise that their excessive doting on the older offspring was driving the younger one far away from them. Together they were the unfair God who accepted Abel’s offering no matter what it was, and who almost always rejected Cain’s submission. If Cain murdered Abel for retaliation, it wouldn’t be such a shock to the kith and kin when they learn about how I unleashed the diabolical in me to emerge victorious in the war against discriminating preferences. I anticipated my chastisement to be banishment and hence contemplated about exiling myself away from Covelly, a silent witness to my miseries and to the heinous crime.

Who said it was easy to hide true emotions behind an expressionless face?

Theodore’s sudden hospitalization warranted caution of a different sort during visits. Daisy’s repeated narrations about the state in which she had found Theodore in his room, and the doctor’s theories, to all the visitors, warned me. Daisy had found Theodore unconscious and blue, which she assumed was caused by his inability to breathe oxygen. With the help of Rob and the other men in the family, she supervised Theodore’s immediate removal from his room and had him rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment. The doctor, whom I was fortunate to not have met, had declared Theodore contaminated as traces of Methionine were found on him, and inside him. That it would take several days for the patient to recover, there being no antidote other than oxygen and medications that could assist with his smooth breathing, was an immediate relief to me. The caring and knowledgeable doctor, according to Daisy, on finding issues with Theodore’s blood pressure, respiratory tract, and inflamed lungs, had placed the latter on a high dose of Intramuscular Vitamin B12. When she finished her narration with the doctor’s frantic wait for Theodore to regain his consciousness or memory as he needed vital information from him about his accidental inhaling of a certain gas, I knew my luck had run out.

Existence became mere agony from that juncture. Involuntarily, I found myself in the outer ring of the Hell of the Violent and the Bestial. Images of blood and fire plagued me. Hypnos showed no mercy, denying me sleep. His better half matched him in cruelty, snatching the much-needed repose away from my ghoulish mind, a brewery of nightmares. A simple subterfuge, a medium nitrous oxide cylinder left open under the unsuspecting foe’s bed for several minutes, a speedy retreat, a nervous brief wait, and the finale. How many times had I rehearsed the manslaughter in my psyche to achieve perfection on the scheduled day. To what length I had gone to eliminate all debacles. Smuggling a size E cylinder of Laughing gas from my current work was undemanding. A motivated saboteur, especially one without scruples, gaining access to the system and damaging the concerned records was unchallenging for me. Should have anticipated the possibility of someone throwing the spanner in my work.

The irresistibleness of Rugby League Pacific championships lured Theodore away from the noisy, distractive friends and family gathered downstairs, as anticipated, for on such occasions he deemed the environment less conducive for expressing his passion. The meticulousness with which he slipped away from them unnoticed interfered with his sharp memory. Diagnosed with COPD, he relied heavily on the short-acting bronchodilator for quick relief. On sighting the inhaler to which the prescribed medication was attached, on the dining table, Daisy marched up the stairs to her favorite son’s room armed with it. The treacherous Fates, conspiring against me, had woven a stronger, longer thread of life for my archenemy.