My name is Shiham, and you will be hearing about me in the news soon. I will be made out to be one of the purported “terrorists” involved with the 2019 Easter Bombings in Sri Lanka. I will probably be referred to as Mohamed though, as it is also one of my names.
It has been a year since this beautiful island was devastated by a vicious false flag attack perpetrated by Western, NATO-allied and the Sri Lankan intelligence agencies. Hundreds murdered, thousands of lives destroyed, and billions of dollars in economic damages sustained – just so that the powers-that-be can secure their energy interests in the Indian Ocean against the Chinese.
For those of you who find all this hard to believe, consider this – over two thirds of the world’s oil flows six to ten nautical miles south of the island on one of the world’s most important shipping routes, the East-West route.
And why would the Sri Lankans agree to murder their own citizens? Possibly to ward off the Chinese from infringing any further on Sri Lankan sovereignty; the Chinese had recently coerced them into handing over their prized Hambantota port (the significance of this port lies in its potential as a naval base).
Next steps for these psychopaths? First, they will frame a few completely innocent Sri Lankan nationals living overseas, such as myself, to fabricate an “international connection” – just in time to subvert the upcoming general elections in Sri Lanka. Then they will push this false narrative as a pre-text to either set up yet another military base or to dissuade the Chinese from doing so.
It is all just a dirty game, and I am an unwitting pawn in it.
British intelligence, in conjunction with the Sri Lankan intelligence service, are setting me up to take the blame for the atrocities they have committed (likely under direction from the Americans). In the passages below, I shall recount the events that have transpired so far as best as I can.
I urge you to keep an open mind whilst reading this note. Much of this note will appear outlandish and highly improbable. However, please bear in mind that the intelligence services are called that for a reason – they are staffed with some of the most intelligent people in the world, who can pull off the outlandish and highly improbable.
The ideal target to fit up for a terrorist incident appears to be a well-educated, Westernised, engineering graduate who finds religion later in life after many years of secular living. Further, research indicates that such individuals were generally born in one country and raised in another, and potentially educated in a third country. The likelihood of engineering graduates in the Muslim (and Sri Lankan) community is quite high, as parents with adequate resources generally push their children towards highly technical disciplines such as Medicine or Engineering.
It was my fate to be born into a Sri Lankan Muslim family in the town of Puttalam, Sri Lanka before being brought over to Muscat, Oman at the age of three months. I grew up in Oman (a Muslim-majority country with zero history of terrorism) and moved to the UK for study and work. I also happened to find religion a couple of years ago. Some years after returning to the Gulf to be closer to my parents, I was introduced to my wife, who is a practising physician in Britain (and a British citizen). We share the same Sri Lankan heritage.
Following this, we got married and I returned to the UK to be with her. I continue to remain a Sri Lankan national (nationality is important in these matters – events staged in Sri Lanka will require Sri Lankan nationals to be framed).
Through sheer probability, I happen to fit the profile of the ideal sort of individual targeted for “sheep-dipping”, so to speak, by the intelligence agencies. No doubt many media articles on how such a peace-loving, law-abiding family man without so much as a parking ticket to his name could be “radicalised” will abound in the media in the weeks to come.
Some cursory Googling will unearth stories about detonators being found close to the town of Puttalam, Sri Lanka as well as the arrests of certain (locally) prominent individuals from that part of the country. No doubt the wheels are already in motion to frame me in some manner unbeknownst to me through my connection to a town I have not known since I was three months old. Moreover, I would not be surprised if my undergraduate training as a computer engineer will be used by the intelligence agencies as well. I can only speculate as to what they will fit me up with.
The fact of the matter is I changed careers soon after graduation by switching to accounting and finance, as I discovered that I was far better in a fiduciary profession than I was in engineering. My tutors and professors even commended me on making this career change, as it was felt by all that I would be better in management than in engineering. Nonetheless, I doubt any of this will matter much, as the intelligence agencies appear to be adept at framing innocent individuals, with the other side of the story barely making it out.
Further, as terrorism trials are conducted by secret courts, ostensibly to preserve “intelligence-gathering tools and techniques” (in other words, tools and techniques to frame innocent people), this note is unlikely to do anything much apart from influence whatever little court of opinion is out there.
Hypnosis and “spy tools”:
I appreciate that hypnosis is not a phenomenon that is well-understood by the general public. My wife tells me that it is not a subject that is covered in medical school. However, I came to learn that it certainly does exist, and is a remarkably effective tool to control people.
I understand from my research that a certain sub-section of the population is highly susceptible to hypnosis. These people make for the best subjects during stage hypnosis events and tend to be the most entertaining participants. I appear to fall within this group of people. The intelligence services have exploited this by hypnotising me numerous times in my life for their ends. It is possible to alter one’s state of consciousness and then hold a conversation, the memory of which will be repressed until a certain phrase or word is uttered upon which these hidden memories are revealed.
Once under the effects of hypnosis, family members or friends are made to wear a wire, so to speak, and relay a message. The “wire” appears to be a miniaturised in-ear earphone, through which lines can be fed and conversations listened to. As it is the law enforcement agencies who approach people to wear this earpiece and repeat the lines they are fed, most people simply comply without protest. (People wearing this earpiece for the first time tend to appear like they are intently listening to something – or someone – before they speak. This behaviour stops for the most part once they get accustomed to wearing the device. By my estimation, my wife has been made to wear one for over 16 months now.)
I would suggest reading the following article by the University of London in detail before progressing with the rest of the note, to better understand the effects of hypnosis:
Further, before I delve further into detail, I believe it is important to mention how adept the intelligence agencies and law enforcement are at coercing unsuspecting people to comply with their needs. I gather this is generally done using threats, kompromat, and the promise of dire consequences should one fail to comply. The official secrets act is used judiciously to silence people in the UK, whilst threats of torture are made against the ones in Sri Lanka.
Many of the things that were said to me under hypnosis will not make sense at first. It will become clearer as one reads through the note as to why these things were said to me.
I was first hypnotised at around 9/10 years of age in the presence of my grandmother and mother whilst on holiday in Sri Lanka and told the following:
“Put your finger to your nose. Okay, now what do you think that means?” to which I exclaimed “hand knows! (hand nose)”
“Yes, the hand knows everything. We’ll know everything you do – Even if you break wind silently, we’ll know. We always know the truth because the hand doesn’t lie.” I believe at this stage I was essentially given a post-hypnotic suggestion.
“If you’re ever asked to play a game, don’t say yes under any circumstance”.
Clearly my family did not understand the implications of what was going on 25 years ago when they acquiesced to this (I am 34 years of age now, for those wondering). Moreover, this first conversation under hypnosis may not have involved the wearing of a wire, as my mother said certain things that are uncharacteristic of one being fed lines through an earpiece, such as “don’t mention anything to your sister, okay?”. Perhaps the technology to feed lines through a discreet earpiece did not exist at that point, and they were simply reading off a memorised script. I can only speculate.
Around the same time, I was hypnotised by the librarian at the school I was attending (Sri Lankan School, Muscat). The librarian had joined the school shortly before my conversation with him, befriended me in the weeks/months leading up to the conversation, and then left shortly thereafter following my conversation with him under hypnosis. “I took this job just to talk with you. Did you know, I can predict when you’ll die? You’ll die at 35. And do you want to know how you’ll die? You’ll be tortured and executed for something you didn’t do”.
The school librarian was either a member of Sri Lankan intelligence, or an informant for them. Planning for this false flag event appears to have commenced over 25 years ago.
Following this, I was hypnotised several times at around age 20 in the company of friends whilst in the UK as an international student at Birmingham University. Even though I had friends in the UK from different communities and lived for three out of my four years at University with mostly White, English housemates, only my British-Muslim friends were used for these purposes. It is likely that things are done in this manner to contain any leaks and explain it away as a conspiracy theory originating within and propagated by the Muslim community in the UK.
I believe my friends were coerced into signing the official secrets act (the breaking of which may result in imprisonment), and then told to relay the following to me under hypnosis:
Through a friend during a visit to his home:
“How do you know if someone is telling the truth?” to which I responded, “hand knows” and put my finger to my nose, before wondering out aloud why I did that.
I was told that this was “something which had been going on for a long time, and that I didn’t have a choice in the matter”. It is clear to me now that I had responded to the post-hypnotic trigger which was “programmed” into me when I was 9/10 years of age, and having responded satisfactorily to this cue, indicated that I was still very much susceptible to hypnosis.
The following are some of the conversations that took place:
· “Would you like to play a game? If you win, we’ll take care of you and your family for life”, to which I responded “yes”.
· “The only way to win is by committing suicide or roasting like a monkey in Africa.”
· “This game brings out your true personality.”
· “Have you ever noticed old men in cafes communicating using hand signs? There is a sign language that exists and was used by spies in the 60s. For instance, if someone runs their hands over their shirt buttons in an unbuttoning motion, that means you’re getting fucked. If someone lays their hand flat and extends their thumb, index and middle finger while the other two fingers are closed, that means that you’re a dead man” Several other such gestures were also described.
· “There are no do overs in this game – the decisions you make are final”
· “These memories will only be revealed to you at the appropriate time”
· “Whatever you do, don’t go to Sri Lanka, you’ll get tortured there”
· “NOBODY blows themselves up willingly. The kids on the suicide bombing track go willingly following a few breathing exercises. They won’t be able to say their prayers aloud before blowing up either, as they will be surrounded by people who can hear them”
· “You’ll be one of the few people in the world who’ll know the truth”
· “You’ll be kept in the dark, and won’t know what’s going on throughout most of the experience”
· “This was a program created in the 70s following the oil crisis. As it was created during a different era, it may appear a little racist, so don’t mind it too much”
· “They’ll use food to refer to countries. For instance, watermelon and fried chicken being Africa. You’ll get certain signs throughout the process, but following these signs will generally result in you going to Africa”
· “You will experience the best of British, and you will be impressed. It won’t be as impressive once you’re passed on to a different intelligence agency”
· “The Sri Lankans aren’t as impressive; they’ll get your mother to try and seduce you. It won’t work. However, she’ll play the role beautifully, and your father will get angry in the process”
· “They will threaten your father with torture, but don’t worry, they won’t actually do anything”
· “They generally find people who are trusting, easily embarrassed, and don’t fight back”
· “At some point, you start playing along, but you’ll never be fully onboard with it”
· “It’ll feel like everyone is against you, up to a point”
· “We’ve run thousands of simulations, with only one result in the end – you always get sectioned” (forcibly admitted to psychiatric hospital)
· “However, there is one simulation in which, when you’re given the opportunity to get sectioned for life, you choose not to. No one knows what happens after this, and you’re not brave enough to try either” (a post-hypnotic suggestion)
· “You will be given only one opportunity to get sectioned. Whatever you do, DO NOT lose this opportunity. Sectioning is the most humane way to go”
· “Your family goes along with all of this due to their love of ‘Dunya’” (Arabic for this life)
· “They’ll be able to tell what you’re thinking most of the time, and it’ll feel like they can read your mind” (a reference to the mentalism techniques the intelligence agencies employ, as you will come across later)
· “This entire game is based on a system of probability”
· “There are opportunities for mercy, but you won’t get any for the things you say and do”
· “They have their ways of communicating with you, but you’ll never see them” (alluding to the in-ear transmissions)
· “Your family decides when you go, but it doesn’t really matter as we have leverage over them”
· “We know you don’t have any faith now, but you’ll find it later in life. You’ll also lose it in Africa”
· “This program was designed by British public schoolboys. Therefore, there’ll be a lot of toilet humour”
· “The British won’t dirty their hands; they’ll get others to do it” (alluding to a beating that I would get in prison overseas if I did not comply)
· “You’ll lose your soul if you choose sectioning. As you are led away to the hospital, you’ll barely be able to see your reflection in the rear-view mirror.” (a post-hypnotic suggestion)
· “The white tissue signifies Africa. If you want to save your wife’s life, divorce her” (a post-hypnotic suggestion)
· “At a certain point, you stop caring and just go along with it” (a post-hypnotic suggestion)
· “A little while after you eat, you’ll come to and realise what happened” (a post-hypnotic suggestion)
· “You’ll be longing for death during this process”
· “If you want it to end painlessly, pick the black socks and they’ll quickly break your neck” (a post-hypnotic suggestion)
· “The BBC is in on this. There is no point in you writing to them. Did you know that a lot of daytime TV shows are designed with this sort of thing in mind? Specially coded messages are given to those in the know.” (This appears to have evolved into specially edited clips on Netflix and BBC iPlayer, as you will see later in this note)
· “British intelligence will never communicate with you directly. You will never meet them. They will communicate to you through TV shows, through other people and through sounds such as knocks, bangs etc.”
· “You don’t write to anyone about all of this fearing for your freedom. If you do write, you will lose your freedom. Besides, it doesn’t matter even if you do, it wouldn’t change a thing” (indicating their brazenness and their control of the mainstream media narrative, where my voice would be shut out through their control of it)
· “If you miss one prayer, that means you can miss them all. However, your wife will forgive you after giving you a light ‘beating’ with her shawl”
· “You’ll be bought off with a toy, maybe a mobile phone or a games console” (alluding to my 34th birthday present, which happened to be a games console – something to while away the time whilst unemployed, as you will see later in this note)
· “We do this to show you that we are greater than America” to which I responded, “but I thought America is the greatest country in the world”. “America is nothing without us, we taught them everything they know!”. “They are loud and do things in an obvious manner. You’ll find the British to be far more subtle”. I suspect the script read “Allah” instead of “America”, but as it was a practising Muslim who was conveying the message to me, the words and context were replaced to avoid offence to him
· “If you somehow escape, we’ll make sure you never get a job again”
· “You’ll be playing these games for the rest of your life”
· “Your family regrets it once you come back to your usual self” (following the events I was put through, as you will see later in this note)
· “You come back to your old size eventually (this was a reference to the medication I’d be on later, which results in weight gain – I had lost a lot of weight between the ages of 18 and 20)”
· “You’re allowed to skip prayers or fasting if you fear for your life. However, you still clutch to your religion tightly like one does with a rope, even when told to stop”
· “You find religion later in life, even though you aren’t practising right now”
· “Your parents make a big deal about some amulets – I’m not sure why it’s that important to them”
· When asked why the British and the Sri Lankans would go to such lengths, I was told “they do it to have a laugh at your expense”.
Apart from these conversations, I was also taught a Dua (a prayer of appeal to God), requesting God that ‘when my time came, my life should leave me as easily as water flows through reeds’, as death can be a very harsh experience. This was a veiled threat in the event I was non-compliant with the process.
I was also taught another prayer – “verily in the remembrance of God do hearts find rest” – and was told that every time I heard this phrase, I should look for clues (a post-hypnotic suggestion).
I recall vaguely remembering some of these conversations. I once called up my friend and asked if we’d spoken about some “game”, to which he replied “yes, you’ve already agreed to go through with it. Anyway, you didn’t really have a choice”. The memory of this conversation was repressed as well through hypnosis and was revealed to me only much later.
Whilst the abovementioned conversations happened with my friend alone, I was also hypnotised with a group of mutual friends (being his housemates at the time) and told the following:
· “Stay in England for as long as you can. Your time in England will be nothing compared to Africa”
· “People think terrorists wind up on ships, but they actually go to Africa”
· “What you need is a good beating” (a post hypnotic suggestion)
· “All you can do is cover your face when you’re being beaten”
· “Africa is a horrible way to go, you won’t even be able to attend your parents’ janaza” (Arabic for funeral)
· “Make sure you stay up for the full experience”
· “You’ll be good fun, because you’ll resist”
· “If you hear distorted voices, it means that person is dead”
· “Don’t let yourself be sectioned, jump out of the window if you have to, especially if someone is blocking the way. And don’t worry, it’ll only be one storey high so nothing will happen to you” (a post hypnotic suggestion)
· “You won’t put up much of a fight, the most you’ll do is fight a bit with your mother-in-law as you’re being led off to hospital” (a post-hypnotic suggestion)
· “Divorce your wife if you want to save her life” (a post-hypnotic suggestion)
· “They’ll come get you just when you think it won’t happen”
· “You will lose your dick in Africa for real”
· “Nobody in this country uses their car horn. If you hear it, and especially if it’s used several times, its likely meant for you” (alluding to one of the types of sounds that would be used by British intelligence to ‘communicate’ with me)
· “Don’t worry, the most they’ll do is waterboard you”
· “They’ll use a key to cut off your privates”
· “If you’re asked, say you want your dick cut off. If you’re too embarrassed to say that, ask for a sex change surgery instead” (a post-hypnotic suggestion)
· “If you try and commit suicide at any point, we promise you that you’ll roast like a monkey in Africa”
· “Pretend to not know your wife if you have to. It might save you” (a post-hypnotic suggestion)
· “Whatever you do, don’t leave the hospital. Stay there as long as you can. If your last day at hospital does come, don’t even leave your room – this is when they’ll cut your dick off. Lock yourself in your room and pee in a bottle if you have to”
· “The only reason you’re getting the opportunity to go to Africa instead of being tortured and killed in Sri Lanka is because you’re civilised – You eat your dinner with cutlery, and not your hands like some savage”
I believe these hypnosis sessions at University were carried out in the event I were to get married in England and stay behind. If I were to have left the country, only the messages I received in Sri Lanka and in Oman would have been revealed to me.
The likelihood of me getting married to a Briton was quite high, as I had spent most of my time with the British unlike other South Asian international students, who by and large tend to associate primarily with their compatriots.
The messages in Sri Lanka were revealed to me anyway (by reminding me of the librarian at school) to ensure I did not leave the UK, and thereby get myself extradited to Sri Lanka to face their version of “justice”. It is common knowledge that the remit of an Interpol Red Corner Notice is virtually global, particularly when issued in a terrorism context, and is frequently used to extradite citizens back to their countries of origin.
Following these instances, I was hypnotised after my wedding ceremony at the age of 29 in Muscat. Some of my in-law’s relatives were invited for dinner with my parents, sister, and me. During this dinner, no messages were conveyed post-hypnosis, but certain hand gestures were shown, such as the ‘dead man’ one.
This hypnosis session may have been done to ascertain if I was still reacting to hypnosis, as nearly a decade had elapsed since the last time I was hypnotised. Moreover, my wife and her parents were kept in the dark, else they obviously would not have agreed to the marriage. This must have come as a surprise to my parents as well, as this would have been the first time that they had seen it performed on me since I was a child.
Early in 2019 (I had returned to the UK by then to join my wife), I was once again placed under hypnosis and addressed by a friend in private when I went to meet the same group of friends from University for dinner. I was told that “it was all about to start, and that there was nothing I could do to escape it”.
The last instance of hypnosis I faced was during a meal at a restaurant with certain distant family members (wife’s cousins and a partner). The messages from this session are yet to be revealed. I expect it to be distressing, as my wife and brother-in-law were first made to leave the table first. I am aware that this session took place as I have become somewhat adept at recognising the signs of hypnosis, such as an unnatural lapse of time, and the reactions of my family members and friends – who are naturally somewhat unnerved by the whole experience of addressing someone, and that person immediately forgetting the conversation at the end of the session. No doubt these memories will be revealed to me eventually.
Events leading up to Easter 2019
I noticed a change in personality in my wife from January 2020 onwards. Some of the things she would say would be quite uncharacteristic of her. She would say things to me in a very harsh tone on certain occasions, which was very much unlike her. Moreover, she would periodically suffer from panic attacks, ostensibly brought on by my smoking habit. She also developed an interest in watching prison documentaries (prior to this, her preference was animations). I did not think much of this, and simply assumed it was a phase she was going through. I had no idea that she had commenced wearing a wire and was acting out the instructions being conveyed to her by British Intelligence. The panic attacks may have been induced by what she knew was going to happen.
By March, I had found a new role at UK Power Networks as an internal auditor. A few days into the new role, my superiors and colleagues started acting very oddly towards me. They made it seem like I was under investigation, frequently alluding to calling the police in conversations between themselves.
This “investigation” was being headed by a member of the internal audit department. At one point, I even suspected that they were able to look at the contents of my phone somehow, as I was unsure how they were able to accurately know the contents of the detailed notes I was taking on my phone about the behaviour of my colleagues and superiors in the event matters escalated to an employment tribunal. When I installed a VPN app on my device, I heard the investigator comment to his boss that “if he’s managed to figure that out, it’s pretty incredible for someone so clueless”.
Certain events were also staged for my benefit, such as the investigator quickly hiding a small black box soon after I had installed the VPN app (little did I know at the time that the state was privy to the contents of my phone and internet activity for several months leading up to this – and that commercially available VPN services are practically useless as law enforcement agencies and intelligence agencies appear to be able to read everything even with VPN activated).
Around the same time, my wife appeared to be doing her best to convince me to quit the new role if I was not happy in it. My parents were also doing the same, as they felt this role may not have been right for me to begin with.
18th April 2019
On the 18th of April, I had completed a month at my new role and been paid for it. The behaviour of my bosses and colleagues by this point was also verging on the ridiculous. I decided to hand in my notice the very same day. We agreed to part ways, and I had offered to come in on the following Tuesday (after the long weekend) to hand in Company belongings.
My wife was on night shifts at the hospital where she works the entire week leading up to me quitting (or so I was led to believe). When I mentioned that I had quit my role to my wife, she wondered aloud if I had quit on my own initiative or if she had ‘made’ me quit. I thought this an odd comment but let it slide. On my way home from work, I got the impression that I was being followed around by suited men and women who made it glaringly obvious that I was being followed. I overheard the following comments from them on my train ride home – “He doesn’t seem like someone on £60k. He must think this is typical British incompetence, letting us be seen by him like this.”
I surmised that because the Company I worked for was part of the national power grid – and consequently was part of the sensitive infrastructure of the country – and that because I had handed in my notice in a rush whilst still in possession of sensitive company materials in the company laptop still in my custody, that the police were actually monitoring me until I handed my devices in.
I shared my concerns that evening with my parents, who asked me to remain calm whilst wondering aloud if it could maybe have something to do with terrorism. I laughed it off, saying that there would be databases for such unsavoury characters, and that the likelihood of me being on such a database was like being struck by lightning. However, I decided to change my passwords on my personal devices just in case they were already compromised by using the product code etched into the back of my watch’s case as a password.
When I stepped out on to the balcony, I saw four people milling about on the street. One was riding a bicycle up and down the street, one was walking beside him, and two others were having a conversation sitting by some steps. When the person on the bicycle spotted me on the balcony, he whistled and then the two seated individuals stood up, embraced, and behaved like they were having an intimate conversation. At the time, I believed these people to be the police in plain clothes who had been posted outside my flat on sentry duties.
I spoke to my wife and shared some of my concerns with her, which she promptly brushed aside.
The Long Easter Weekend
19th April 2019
The following day (Friday), I joined my wife and my in-laws at their family home in Slough for the long weekend, without mentioning anything to my in-laws lest I upset them.
I noticed a change in my in-laws’ behaviour on Friday, with certain members of the family speaking to me in an unnaturally harsh tone during dinner time. I did not make anything of this, and let it slide.
That night, I passed a hand-written note to my wife to quietly contact some lawyers the next time she was at work, as my devices were likely compromised. She agreed to do so, playing along with my request.
20th April 2019
The following day (Saturday), my wife woke me up by placing my head at an unnatural angle. When I woke up, I heard her muttering something to herself in the corner of the room. Something did not feel right, so I grabbed my watch and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. The moment I reached for my watch, I heard her say “time is of the essence” – a very unnatural thing for anyone to say in such a context.
I was left wondering if my wife was an agent of the security services whilst brushing my teeth. After this, my in-laws, their extended family, and I set off on a trip to a zoo some distance away (a trip which had been planned for some time). The male members of the family decided to go in one car, whilst the female members were travelling in another.
Once we got into the car and started driving, some of the male members of the family started asking me about my new job and if I had any trouble with it. This came as a bit of a shock, as no one apart from my wife knew that I had quit my job (with her insisting earlier that she had told no one else that I had quit).
As this was a discussion I had no interest in having, I asked for the topic to be changed – knowing that not just my wife, but all my in-laws were in on whatever this was. They promptly started driving towards Heathrow airport, feigning that they would be sending me away (with the help of the police, it was implied) and that tickets had already been bought unless I complied.
My wife’s uncle asked about my phone’s password and suggested that I better change it to something else. I took off my watch, looked at the code etched on the back, and changed my password to something else. After this, the car was directed away from Heathrow.
I asked to be taken to the nearest service station (gas station) so that I could have a drink of water. When we arrived at the service station, I picked up a bottle of water and stood in the queue to pay. I noticed that there was a burly, bald man in front of me who had skull and crossbones tattooed on the back of his head. At this point it dawned on me that this was no mere police who I was facing but the British domestic intelligence agency MI5. I had yet to make any connection with the counter-terrorism special branch of the police, naturally, as we are still on Friday the 19th of April.
I paid for my water with my credit card, and then asked for my wife to join me in the service station. Once she came in, I kissed her goodbye and told her I loved her and that I was leaving the country. She started crying and said she could not say goodbye to me this way. It was clear to me that she was talking to someone else even though it was just her and I by the bathroom. At this point, I started to understand that she was wearing a wire through which private conversations could be heard. I surmised that “wire” technology had evolved to a point where it could be placed in-ear discreetly with no trace of sound leakage.
My wife convinced me that there was another way and asked for me to return home to Slough with her. Once we were back home, she asked me for a divorce, but it was clear to me from her tone that this was not really her speaking, and that she was being fed lines by someone else.
I checked for the presence of a wire, but there was none. At this point I decided that I had enough and would be making my way back to my own flat in Woking. My wife started crying and saying that this would be suicide. I decided to leave anyway, and the moment I stepped out of the house, a car pulled up and some men stepped out. I immediately decided to come back inside the house. My wife continued to pester me for a divorce, to which I said a stern no. She said she would not let me stay in the UK for a single day more, to which I said that I did not care. At this point, my wife got agitated, ran to the kitchen, reached out for a knife, and threatened to commit suicide.
I realised what was going on, decided to not engage with my wife, calmly restrained her from taking any action, and once she had given the knife to me, called the emergency services number. The speed at which the line connected, and the speed at which the operator on the other end rapidly decided that this was not a matter for the police and connected me to the ambulance surprised me. My wife’s tone changed immediately, and she reassured the ambulance services operator that she was fully in control of her faculties, and this was merely a ruse she had played, and that she was a doctor so her word could be taken that there was no imminent threat of self-harm.
By this point, I had reached out to my sister in London and her husband, as well as my parents in Sri Lanka and shared with them that the security services, the police and my family in England were all attempting to have me deported. They said they knew exactly what was going on, and that I should calmly wait for my sister and her husband to arrive in Slough.
After this, both my father-in-law and mother-in-law had arrived home from their respective workplaces and had to pretend they did not know what was going on. They enquired about the situation at work, and I disclosed that I had quit my job on Thursday with the following Tuesday being my last day at work. I then decided that I needed a break and stepped outside of the house for a walk.
Things became even stranger outside. I went to the park nearby and took a seat, before noticing a large man (clearly a military type) wearing combat fatigue shorts with a regular t-shirt on top and walking a large dog, which turned around and looked at me as it walked past (I would see this sort of thing again repeatedly throughout the year at various different places, and sometimes the dog would turn its head to look at someone else instead, to which the dog handler would respond by getting irritated and tugging on its leash – these parlour tricks do not work every time, clearly).
I also saw another man walking past me who stopped, and pulled out what looked like a rake head from his bag, set it on the floor, and glared at me threateningly whilst making a show of tying his shoe laces, before placing the rake head back in his bag and walking off. I returned home shortly thereafter, feeling somewhat disconcerted.
Once my sister and her husband arrived, I decided that we should again step outside for a walk and speak in private. I shared my concerns with them, and they were completely shocked. I asked if they would let me stay at their place as I felt deeply uncomfortable staying with my in-laws, to which they had agreed. My sister had left her handbag behind at my in-law’s place and so asked her husband to go collect it. I knew that when he returned, he would be under the influence of the security services (as they would no doubt have coerced him into wearing a wire).
As predicted, when he returned, he was acting very differently. When my sister saw this, her mouth was agape. He pointed in a different direction and said, “oh look at that!” and when I turned my head, I could see out of the corner of my eye that he quickly placed something near my sister’s head.
Following this, my sister’s eyes started welling up, she started crying, and told me “always remember who came for you as soon as you asked in your hour of need”. As the wire was now placed in her ear, she also began to act differently. Both my brother-in-law and my sister were now doing their absolute best to convince me to return to the house, and that going anywhere else would be a terrible idea.
I recall my brother in law telling me that “it wasn’t just him, there were loads of people involved in this. You have no idea how many people are involved in this”. I was told that I “was fortunate that I had a family around me, and that several people had to go through this experience without their family’s support”. I was therefore urged to “do it with the family”.
I believe my sister and her husband were left until this point to be turned by the police/security service to demonstrate how quickly they could co-opt my nearest and dearest. My parents were also on the phone to me convincing me to go along with what my sibling and her husband were saying. It was at this point that my mother tearfully asked me over the phone to go to the hospital without any protest if asked to do so.
By this time, there were several people milling about in the park. Every time I said something they disapproved of whilst on the phone to my mother, they would make a show of turning and coming towards me in unison.
At this point, I relented and decided to go back to my in-law’s place. My brother-in-law had his arm around my shoulder in a forceful manner to ensure that I did not run off. He took me down a path that was filled with about 20-30 men on dirt bikes and quad bikes wearing balaclavas and sunglasses, revving their engines the whole while. It was at this point I realised that this was a significant operation by the state and that everyone that I spoke to in England on a regular basis could be a part of this elaborate scheme.
Just before nearing the house, the neighbour stepped out. I begged for him to call the police. He seemed taken aback, but my brother-in-law convinced him that there was no trouble and he need not bother. Now I realise that even this may have been staged.
Once inside the house, my mother in law threw holy water (zam zam water) on my face and tried to slap me. I genuinely believed that my life was at risk as I could hear heavy footsteps upstairs. I was made to believe that if I did not comply, I may be beaten savagely. I was given something to eat and drink and was told that everyone was praying for me and that I should simply comply with whatever was required of me. I was then told that I should go and pray.
Following this, the tension in the house appeared to subside. My wife was made to come over to me and it was made obvious to me that I was speaking to an intelligence officer on the other end of the wire, with my wife speaking the words she was being given through her ear piece. I was asked about the reasons for quitting my job, and if I planned to return all sensitive materials to the company I had just quit. I obviously had no intention but to return everything, and I assured them that I would do so first thing on Tuesday when the offices reopened.
It was then indicated to me that I had passed the “test” and that I could now relax as the intelligence agencies were done with me now that they had ascertained my intent. I was told that they would continue to be a part of my life for the next couple of days until the handover of all UK Power Network’s belongings went smoothly.
I believed that this ordeal was over, and that it had been concluded by the state that there was no risk of London’s sensitive electrical network being divulged to anyone (!). After this, it was smiles all around, and my sister and her husband left for London.
However, during dinner an odd show was put on TV – an interactive episode of Bear Grylls on Netflix in which the choices Bear faced were between bad and worse. I laughed this off, thinking this was a last joke the security services were playing on me, before turning in for the night with my wife.
21st April 2019
On the morning of the 21st, I was woken up by wife. Apparently, there was something big on the news.
My wife and I joined my father-in-law in the living room. There was indeed something big (and most terrible) on the news. My father-in-law commented that it must be a local incident. I replied that it was impossible, there must have been some sort of international help as the destruction was so extensive. My wife and my father-in-law shot me a look. It was at that point that I really understood what was going on.
I excused myself to go to the bathroom, locked myself in there, and texted two close friends, one in Auckland, and the other in London. I asked them to call the media and lawyers, as I was about to be framed for the terror attacks in Sri Lanka. I was later cajoled into coming out of the bathroom by my wife and asked to sit beside her near the bedroom window.
I could see there was a man stood by the fence in casual clothes, and he looked ready to jump over the fence if required. I explained to the officer speaking through my wife that British intelligence should frame some other Sri Lankan guy. He replied through her that “British intelligence does not give a f…” (my wife did not complete the sentence). She continued “Do you really think we care about you or your boring life?”. At this point, I received a call from my friend in London whom I had texted moments ago but was persuaded to not answer the phone.
My wife later calmly explained that saying things like “British intelligence is out to get me” are signs of psychosis, and that if I kept this up, she would want me to go see a doctor. I explained very clearly that my faculties were fully in order, and that I needed to do no such thing. All the while, I could hear police sirens in the distance wailing incessant and non-stop. There appears to be a lapse in memory after this. The next thing I knew, it was the late afternoon. I had clearly been placed in a deep state of hypnosis for some period.
(I shall digress here for a bit; It was only much later when I received a rather large phone bill that I discovered that I had made two international calls under an altered state of consciousness, one to my friend in New Zealand and another to my parents in Sri Lanka. When I asked my wife about these charges, she asked me to forget about it as I had “a memory block” and would never be able to recollect making these calls. I never asked my parents about the calls, as I knew they were playing along with their roles as instructed by Sri Lankan intelligence and would not dare to defy them by giving me any more information on the call to them.
My friend in New Zealand denied it too but mentioned as an aside that I could have left him a long voice mail which would also incur international calling rates, but not that he received any such thing. He may have been sharing what happened with me, but it is impossible to say as he has already been co-opted into being an informant. Whenever a sensitive topic such as this would come up, he would be asked to sniffle – to indicate to me that we were being listened to. This was when I realised the truly global nature of false flag attacks.)
She asked me to follow her to the living room, which was empty. Then my wife put the TV on and loaded up BBC iPlayer, and played a clip about the Sri Lankan military’s presence in Iraq. Until this point, I wasn’t aware that the Sri Lankan armed forces were present in that region. Following this, the Netflix app was launched. She then played a specially formatted episode of “Impractical Jokers” in which there were various running gags about a woman telling a man what to do, as well as how to act the part if I wanted to share a room with a cell mate. I was asked if I would delete the text messages I sent earlier, and that I would be guided as to what to say in response.
I was told to say that I was at a BBQ party for the Easter weekend and that some children had gotten hold of my phone and were playing a joke on me, to which I complied. I deleted one message and said I had completed what she had asked me to do. My wife stood up and acted exasperated. I deleted the second text message as well and sent out the story I was asked to.
Subsequently, the BBC iPlayer app was loaded on TV and a specially formatted trailer of Sir David Attenborough’s “Dynasties” was played, in which it was inferred that the events that had transpired so far were something that was organised in order to search for the right people who could ensure that succeeding generations thrived. It was made to appear to me that I was joining some sort of secretive recruitment program. I also understood how deep this rabbit hole must go if the BBC and Netflix can cater to the whims of the intelligence services.
Following this, I was asked to speak with my parents in Sri Lanka over Skype, as most other methods of communication had been blocked in the country to stop the spread of misinformation. When I called my parents over Skype, they were saying things in Tamil which I could not decipher. My grasp of Tamil is poor to begin with, having grown up overseas, and it appeared to me they were speaking in some sort of code. My mother kept insisting for me to ask for extremely hot black coffee.
I explained to my wife that I could not understand what they were saying. At this point, the threats kept ramping up – I could see my mother-in-law crossing the kitchen whilst brandishing a knife (in a threatening position). I insisted that I could not understand the strange phrases in Tamil my parents were using. At this point, my mother-in-law was put on the line instead. She kept repeating that she would give me camomile tea instead of hot black coffee. I was clueless as to what they were talking about.
Immediately after this, dinner was laid out in the kitchen. At dinner, I was told in a harsh tone that I would be going for a “long sleep”, and we retired to bed.
The “long sleep” turned out to be the breathing exercises I was told about 15 years ago. During the night, my wife would breathe in certain patterns and I would be expected to follow her breathing patterns. She should nudge me to urge me along until I figured out what I was supposed to be doing. This was made out to be some sort of game which I had to figure out and play along to if I wanted to join this secretive recruitment program – which at the time I had convinced myself was some sort of ‘sleeper cell’ of community informants. The angle my head was placed in a couple of days ago came to mind, and when I placed my head accordingly, I was able to emulate snoring convincingly, thereby passing whatever “test” this was.
This was followed by another exercise where I had to pilfer through my wife’s chest of drawers to find something hidden in there before she returned from the bathroom. It did not help that my mother-in-law appeared to be prowling the corridors. I was unsuccessful in my attempt and was told by my wife that I would need to improve at this.
22nd April 2019
The following day, I woke up with what felt like heat on my neck. There was someone standing behind me holding what felt like a heated filament to my neck. I could also hear footsteps behind me. I understood this to be another “test”, wherein my “snoring” skills were being assessed again under added pressure. I continued to sleep through it, until the heater was withdrawn and the people in the room left. I may have been under hypnosis as well, as it is entirely possible that I could have been prevented from opening my eyelids (such things can be done through hypnosis).
Once I was awake, it was decided to go to Nando’s for lunch, during which more such games were played. A stop-off was made prior to Nando’s to get slushies. I said I did not want any and carried on walking. A threatening looking man walked past, and shot me a look, indicating that I should go have the slushie. Slushie in hand, various group photographs were taken of me with my family. The appearance of a happy family outing was given, with me required to play along if I wanted to continue my recruitment towards this secretive program (No doubt all these photos of a beaming individual following a vicious terrorist attack are going to be used as “evidence” in the upcoming secret trials).
By this point, in my confusion of the situation, I genuinely believed that I was being recruited as an asset to root out any terrorist leaders in the Sri Lankan community in the UK, seeing as my wife and in-laws were respectable members of this community. During lunch, more such games were played in which my ability to lie was assessed. I was asked if I had been to this particular branch of Nando’s (which I had not) and when I replied in the negative, my father-in-law stepped on my toes under the table and asked me if I was sure? At this point, I said perhaps I was confusing myself and maybe I had been here in the past, thereby passing another “test”.
Following lunch, we headed out to a nearby park. After arriving at the park, I noticed a large group of burly, tattooed men, with crew cuts, drinking lager and behaving in a visibly loud and raucous manner, with some of them glancing in my direction. They were accompanied by dogs. These men were clearly military types who were placed there to appear intimidating. I declined to go to the park and asked to return home. Another story was fabricated that I was probably feeling off due to the hot weather, and perhaps it was best I returned home. On the way home, I disclosed that I still had the note I had written my wife some nights ago in my pocket. I was asked to return this note, which was promptly discarded. My mother-in-law waved some bin bags around, and my wife hugged me closely. The implication was that if I did not continue cooperating, I would be discarded like trash, or possibly be “trashed”, so to speak.
That night as we went to bed, my wife’s behaviour became increasingly erratic. She was speaking about leaving me and loaded up YouTube on her phone. There were several odd videos on her homepage about how love was conditional. I knew she was being put up to this by her handlers and did not react in the manner I was expected to. Nevertheless, my wife called up the emergency services and mentioned that MY behaviour was erratic and if they could send someone out to check up on me. Two medical professionals arrived shortly thereafter and gave me a tablet which would help me sleep. This was the beginnings of an elaborate set-up to get me sectioned at hospital. Any cursory Google search will show the relationship between so called “terrorists” and mental issues.
22nd and 23rd April 2019
(I have pieced together the events of these two days to the best of my recollection. I am distinctly aware that I was deeply hypnotised at several points throughout this process. During such altered states of consciousness, the hypnotist can implement memory blocks, which will appear to me as lapses in time.)
On this day, I was given a selection of things for breakfast. I could choose to have a Sri Lankan style tuna sandwich with lots of green chillies (which my mother in law made a great show of chopping up in a threatening manner) or I could choose pizza instead. The implication was that I could choose prison in Sri Lanka (with torture and possibly execution) or live out my days in a US-funded prison. When I picked the pizza and ketchup, I was told the pizza was spicy too as it had jalapenos, and that the ketchup was from Costco, indicating that this life would be an exceedingly difficult option as well. This was the first reference made to foods representing countries, as I was told earlier at University.
My father-in-law was reading an article in the local newspaper that referred to a 10-gun salute for some prominent local personality. The page with the article was left in my line of sight. There were conversations about my choices – I could either go to the shops to supposedly buy a new phone (presumably code for being shot) or come with them to ER. By this point, many of the memories under amnesia had been revealed to me. I said I was still making up my mind, and that maybe I could do with a new phone (!).
This was when things were ramped up, as I was being uncooperative. I was asked to get ready as we were going out for a drive. When I came downstairs after getting changed, there were verses of the Quran playing on the TV. I was asked to watch it for a little while. The verses referred to how people with “even an atom of pride in their heart would not be admitted to heaven”. I was being forced to think about death, and if that was what I genuinely wanted or if this was just pride speaking. Following this, we headed out for the drive. There was a sudden pit-stop for hot, black coffee at a nearby Costa. I was asked if I was sure I did not want camomile tea instead? (This appeared to be code for harsh or soft treatment). I asked for a latte, continuing to be defiant.
I saw a man in the car next to me pick up something that appeared to look like a gun. It was not an actual weapon, but a glue gun of some sort (used in construction) that was designed in the shape of an automatic rifle. Following this, more Quran was played in the car and the car was driven slowly. The objective of this appeared to get me in a frame of mind where I was thinking about life after death (from being shot). My family were made to act in a sorrowful manner. We drove past a funeral parlour. After some time, this psychological trick took its toll on me and I got rather upset. At this point, the intelligence/police officer remarked through my father-in-law “wow, we didn’t think it’d take this long… you’re a strong one, eh?”. The car was turned towards the hospital now, as I had once again become compliant.
We approached the Emergency Room at a local hospital. Outside the hospital on a nearby road, several cars were driving extremely fast up and down the road (on a public holiday), and my wife urged me to step inside the hospital quickly. At the waiting room, it was like a real-life West End (or Broadway) production. The entire ER room appeared to be staged for my arrival. Several dozen people were at the waiting room, and each one was playing their role accordingly. People were speaking in raspy voices saying things like “does he really think holding her hand will help”. Another said the easy was out was for me to select the tea option in a nearby vending machine, thereby acquiescing to going to Sri Lanka.
There were loud sounds being played from a nearby room – that of a loud saw cutting something. There were also people behaving in highly pronounced ways, such as limping exaggeratedly on crutches, to which a nearby person remarked in a raspy voice “how badly he must’ve been beaten”. There were constant allusions to beatings with screams emanating from the room next to me. By this point, I was beginning to appreciate the show that was being put-on just for me with its high production values.
We were taken into a room to speak with a doctor, and my wife said a few things about how I was imagining that the authorities were after me, and that I believed that she was an informant for them. Naturally, this sounds absurd to those not in the know. I was asked to speak with a mental health advisor in another room. When we went to the room, a blonde lady began interviewing my wife and me. It was a highly staged process wherein I was asked if I had a family history of mental illness, to which I replied no. My wife said that all of this had started recently following my new job where I believed I was under investigation by my colleagues.
I was asked if I would sign some sort of consent form (possibly agreeing to a self-sectioning). When I refused, the lady’s tone became harsher and I was told that this would be in my best interest, as the alternative would be to go to the GP at a later stage, which would not be good for me. I continued to refuse this, and so the interview came to an end.
I was then taken on a drive by my family, where they alluded to my options between hot coffee or camomile, which would be up to my choosing. I was also taken to another building, where it was implied that I would be beaten inside. We returned home after this.
Following this, I was taken to the kitchen in which more food choices were presented to me. Pizza was presented to me along with the Sri Lankan style spicy sandwiches. Some Sri Lankan style eggrolls were also being fried up, and references were made to how hot the oil was. I was asked to choose, as I clearly had not made up my mind yet. I could hear heavy footsteps nearby. The implication was that a heavy beating was now due. Various sounds were switched on, such as the washing machine and microwave. With the looming threat in the background (which felt very real at the time, as I was stopped from looking behind with my view was being obscured by family members) it became harder to concentrate.
Various everyday household objects with the colours red and green were set around me. It was implied that red and green would both represent danger. Red, for obvious reasons. Whilst green is generally considered to be the colour of Islam, in this instance it was equated to the colour red. The implication was that I would find no refuge or quarter in Islam or with fellow Muslims. As the intensity of this exercise kept ramping up, I grew more and more dazed and confused, and was completely unable to think straight. Hypnosis could have played a part here, to further reduce my resistance to the techniques being employed. After some time, when it was felt that I had been suitably agitated, I was asked to go upstairs and meet with my wife.
With hindsight, I now understand that this experience was designed according to classic “brain-washing” techniques. Through my research, I came across the following which I believe was performed on American POWs in Vietnam:
“Normal” social reference points are unavailable, and mind-clouding techniques like sleep deprivation and malnutrition are typically part of the process. There is often the presence or constant threat of physical harm, which adds to the target’s difficulty in thinking critically and independently.
My wife told me to have a lie down. As I did, various thoughts were racing through my head. This allowed me to return to a state where I could have a coherent conversation. After this, through my wife’s words, it was revealed to me that there was a 40 something year old man speaking to me whilst drinking hot black coffee. Fazed by all of this, ultimately, I chose to relent and signed the consent form. (I am still unsure what this consent form was for – probably a medical form agreeing to something regarding mental health).
Things took an even more bizarre turn in the late evening.
First, I heard a loud roar (which sounded like a tiger) through the window which completely startled me. Animal sounds, particularly roars from big cats, are well known to induce the fight or flight reflex in humans. I was in a highly agitated state as I went to bed.
Later at night, when I was asleep, my in-laws and my wife barged into the room and woke me up. My mother-in-law was in a red dress, my brother-in-law was wearing white, and my father-in-law was wearing purple. An elaborate game commenced in which they were made to play various roles.
My face was pointed at the map of the world which was on a wall, and I was made to look at Africa. It was implied that this is where I was going. It was made apparent to me that there were men outside who were going to beat me. This induced several panic attacks in me, wherein I was contorting myself and making sounds through my clenched teeth, whilst sweating profusely.
I was laid down, and made to look at the ceiling light, with the light being partially obscured by my brother-in-law’s bearded face. Possibly using more post-hypnotic suggestions, I came to understand that this meant that Britain is Muslim, as what was left of the ceiling light vaguely resembled a crescent moon.
Once I had made this connection, he moved his face to completely block the ceiling light. I was made to understand that this represented Britain being ISIS.
Whilst my mother-in-law, brother-in-law and wife were holding me down and doing this, my father-in-law was blocking the exit to the room. As I was in a state of shock, and I believed there were men outside the room, I did not fight back.
Further, my father-in-law had changed from a purple t-shirt into a black one. This was meant to represent the Crown (British state) turning against me. The use of colours and symbols to represent different things was a common theme throughout this experience. After this, everyone left the room, and I had to converse with my wife, who was relaying the words of the intelligence/police officer through her earpiece.
I was taught another Dua (prayer) by my wife wherein I should ask God for protection from overbearing men and from suffering in this life. I was also reminded of the prayer regarding hearts finding rest in the remembrance of God. This triggered me to start looking around for “clues”, essentially a hypnotic instruction to start observing everyday objects in more detail.
I was then taken downstairs and asked if I wanted rice or naan. I came to understand this as meaning if I wanted to be sent to Pakistan or India. I went with naan and was then taken to the kitchen where I was offered a burger and some Ferrero Rocher chocolates. My face was held several times and made to look at the ceiling light, which by now I had come to associate with death (possibly through another post-hypnotic suggestion).
I was asked if I wanted the burger – which was implied was a dangerous thing to ask for – or the Ferrero Rocher, which was implied to be my teeth being broken. I was constantly suffering from panic attacks during this entire time, as I could hear heavy footprints in the hallway and outside.
Ultimately, I was not allowed to eat anything. (I do not recall being allowed to eat lunch or breakfast either). In hindsight, the objective appeared to be to get to a point where it could be said that even though I was offered a range of foods, I chose not to eat anything, whilst in actual fact, I was stopped from eating. This could later be mentioned to the doctors when the time came. Further, being hungry and sleep deprived would ensure that I followed the post-hypnotic suggestions that were going to be triggered the following day.
By this point, I was not fighting back. All it had taken was my own family acting out the intelligence agencies’ requirements to achieve this.
Following this experience, I was taken to bed, where I recalled that I had been told that I should stay up if I wanted the full experience. As it had come from a friend, who at the time I did not know was influenced by the security services, I assumed this was a good idea. There were constant sounds being made in the house which did not allow me to sleep.
At one point, these sounds quietened down, and I could hear footsteps outside that sounded like someone walking through grass. This was another game, in which the “snoring” skills I had picked up the night before was being put to the test. The footsteps would reduce if I made these sounds correctly but would pick up pace if I did not. This was another recording that was being played to keep me up at night, with the implied threat of someone just outside the house waiting to attack me. In the morning, more such “games” were played out.
By this point, various sounds I would hear would correspond with the thoughts I was having. It appeared that my mind could be “read” as I was told earlier.
(I later concluded that this was performed using mentalism, wherein micro-reactions are interpreted by the mentalist and sounds made accordingly. The intelligence services communicate using knocks and bangs. Hypnosis and mentalism are practised by the same people, and there appears to be something of an overlap between the two. The intelligence services have refined these arts into a science. The accuracy of these sounds corresponding to my thoughts was remarkable.)
Further, it appears that any normal room can be fitted out with a camera, which is how they were able to observe my reactions. These cameras are not visible to an untrained observer, and it is possible to thus “bug” a room within minutes. According to Craig Murray, a former member of HM Government who was privy to such technologies in a previous life, it used to take some hours for a camera to be silently drilled through a room. It appears that this technology has evolved now to infiltrate a room within a matter of minutes. This was demonstrated to me when I visited a friend at his place of work at PwC headquarters in London.
It was a large building and we moved rooms constantly as he was giving me a tour of the place. However, it was possible for the security services to observe my actions in a room I went into in a matter of a few minutes, which they indicated through their commentary on my actions through him, such as “the way I was reclining in an arrogant manner like a egoistic prick” – things he would never say under normal circumstances. My friend would stare at the ceiling incredulously at the time, wondering how they were able to observe what was going on in a closed room.
Whenever I was in a room which they were unable to infiltrate, or chose not to – such as when I was attending an interview and therefore would not need to be managed, as I would not be divulging anything like this to a prospective employer – the internet connection on my phone would be cut off.)
By now, it was sunlight. I had not slept a wink and had instead spent the entire night in a state of terror of being beaten. Another exercise that took place at this point was the TV being “tuned” downstairs. Even though it was a digital TV, the sounds of an analogue TV being tuned could be heard. I was asked to empty my mind, because it was being “tuned”, so to speak. Every time a thought entered my head, I could hear some Tamil programs being played on the TV. However, if my mind were blank, static could be heard instead. The mentalists were having a field day.
Once I had successfully learned how to “blank” my mind, my mother-in-law came into the room with her phone and said she had my mother on the line. At the other end was a distorted voice which sounded like a recording being played. At this moment, I broke down crying loudly as I was told that if I had heard a distorted voice, it meant that person was dead. My phone was confiscated so I had no way to check either. Besides, in my state, I was not thinking critically about these matters.
After this, I was trained by my wife to say the phrase “My name is Shiham, I am fine, I don’t need any help”. I was asked to repeat this ad nauseam in my mind. Every time I would get this phrase wrong, I would hear a chopping sound outside, indicating that I would be tortured (I later came to realise that these sounds were created by banging together everyday objects, such as two planks of wood). The chopping sound got louder if I tried to doze off.
At this point, I recall thinking that this was probably how suicide bombers were created. I recall getting angry whilst saying this phrase, imagining that my mother had been killed. Due to the chopping sounds being made, I assumed she had been chopped to pieces. However, once I was told to stop repeating the phrase, my anger had subsided, and I went back to my usual self (Practising this phrase appears to me to be another post-hypnotic suggestion. No doubt it will be triggered at a suitable time). I wondered if the laptop I was due to return on Tuesday had been rigged with explosives.
Following this, I was given my first nutrients in a long while in the form of hot tea, and it was suggested that I would be going to Sri Lanka and that the police were nearby to arrest me now that my training program had been completed. I was made to understand that this training would help me survive in prison in Sri Lanka, and that I would have to endure torture. My wife was given coffee, and I assumed this meant that she would be extradited to America as she was a British citizen (the thought was put into my head that my wife had elected to go to prison as well, and that she was doing this for me).
By this point, I was tired and angry and could not care less. We went downstairs and I was offered a McDonald’s fish fillet sandwich and fries with ketchup, which I devoured quickly. Everyone kept clearing their throats, indicating that this was a bad idea.
After this, I was shown a few items in the living room which were placed on the coffee table – A) a box of tissues which had some white socks next to it , B) a potted plant which had some grey/black socks next to it, and C) plain black socks. I was asked to decide between the three.
The implication was that I had a choice – A) Pick up the black socks and die a quick, painless death by having my neck snapped (as I was told earlier under hypnosis); B) Pick up the white socks, go roast like a monkey in Africa, and achieve an honest death – something I genuinely believed at the time would happen as I’d imagined petrol would be poured on me and lit (possibly a thought that was mentioned to me under hypnosis); C) Pick up the white/grey socks and get sectioned.
(However, with respect to option B, I have now come to understand that this meant life in a prison in Africa without any air conditioning, as Britain deports its convicted foreign ‘terrorists’. As Britain does not extradite its residents to countries that carry out torture such as Sri Lanka, I would be sent to a prison in Africa to live out the rest of my days.)
When I asked which the best option was, I was shown the potted plant, indicating life in a psychiatric hospital. I agreed to this and was told that I would need to wear the grey/black socks as confirmation of my choice.
I wore the socks, and we set off to the hospital. Once we got in the car, in which I was made to sit in the backseat in the middle, I noticed the rear view mirror was turned at an odd angle and that I could not see my face in it (indicating that I had lost my soul by making this choice). I asked for it to be turned towards me, and it was turned slightly. At this point I yelled at my mother-in-law that if she wanted, I was happy to go another round with her (post-hypnotic triggering).
The drive to the hospital was slow and meandering. This was done so that the effects of the food would kick in, and I would slowly start coming back to my senses. At this point, my mother-in-law, who was sitting to the right of me started sobbing. I wondered why and looked to the left. I could see my wife clutching a crumpled up white tissue with the hand she wears her wedding band and engagement ring on (with a princess diamond cut), indicating that she had chosen to go “roast” in Africa and face an honest death as she was still married to me, and because I had not given her a divorce.
I decided that there could be another way, as I was told about it once. The only way to save her life was by divorcing her, so I uttered the words “thalak” three times (through post-hypnotic triggering). (This is performed by some Muslim communities as a form of ‘instant divorce’. However, most Muslim-majority countries have made such practices illegal.)
The car immediately sped up, and my father-in-law said “God help you son” as we raced towards my GP – Heathcot medical practice in Woking. I could see outside that the shrubbery was brown in colour en route, indicating that I was going to Africa now instead of spending my life under sectioning (being sent to Africa was always the plan to begin with).
When I looked at my wife, she showed me her hand and I noticed that she had swapped the wedding band and engagement ring around, indicating that the Crown came before marriage, and that my family had “misled” me. By this point, I had “come to” as the effects of the food had taken hold. I recall wanting the black socks at this point.
At the GP, I was quickly ushered upstairs and placed by a window, waiting to be seen by a doctor. A man came up and blocked the way. I immediately decided to jump through the window rather than be carted off to Africa (post-hypnotic triggering). However, once I put my head out of the window, I noticed that it faced an inside court and had some barbed wiring placed around the rim of the roof. As it was not safe, I came back in. (Evidently hypnosis only works up until a point. If there is a threat to life, one can decide not to follow through with the instruction. I imagine the barbed wiring was placed there on purpose.)
Following this, I was taken inside to meet the GP. I was once again placed under hypnosis, but I was conscious of what was going on. I was unable to speak as the hypnosis prevented me from doing so. My wife was telling the GP about my erratic behaviour and this was confirmed by the man who had blocked my path, who may have been a nurse of some sort. The GP was rapidly taking notes down – all the while it was impossible for me to speak. Only once she had entered her notes into the system and recommended sectioning was the hypnosis lifted. I tried to correct the GP and tell her I was perfectly fine, which I was, but she immediately asked me to put my hand on my nose. When I did so, she said “the hand knows”.
I was once again placed under hypnosis, during which I was extremely compliant and taken to another room in which I was made to wait. Another game was played in which it was indicated through the use of posters that I had somehow contracted HIV and passed it onto my wife and her unborn child, and that there would be no mercy as a result of this. I was first shocked at how my wife could be pregnant (this was done by asking my wife to first point at her belly, and then making me listen to her heartbeat), and then very apologetic if this were truly the case. Being unable to speak, I had to ‘apologise’ to my family through eyes.
(When one is induced into a state of hypnosis, one’s ego is suspended, and one goes into a child-like state, accepting anything and everything that is told to them. This was explained to me by a professional hypnotist I met with who explained this to me much later. Whilst this may appear comical now, at the time I was terrified that all of what was being conveyed to me was true.)
Following this, two paramedics appeared and made a great show of opening a box which contained some sharp objects inside. This was done to convince me that I was going to be tortured – I even got it into my head that I was going to be hanged, drawn, and quartered (probably through another post-hypnotic suggestion). I was taken to the hospital in an ambulance during which I thought it was probably best to wrap the seat belt around my neck, hoping to die by having my neck snapped when the ambulance went over a speed bump. My wife told me to stop it.
Once we reached the hospital (St Peters Hospital in Chertsey), I was taken to a ward in which another elaborate performance was staged. The people in the ward were acting insane and making all sorts of noises. I was told this was a little taste of what being sectioned was really like.
I was placed under hypnosis and it was indicated to me that the torture would start with my privates being cut off. I was screaming repeatedly that I was suicidal by this point whilst rocking back and forth. One of the paramedics came over to my area, turned around, and struck up a conversation with one of the nurses. He had his back to me, and kept swinging his posterior around (the state showing me its bum, essentially) and said that if I continued to keep this up, I would be sent to Thailand instead and that I had no idea how they treated people convicted of terrorism out there. Thailand would repeatedly be alluded to over the course of the following year any time I stopped cooperating.
Some more “games” were played at this point, where I had to pretend to sleep whilst eavesdropping on everyone else in the ward. As the curtains were drawn, I could not see the others, but I had to follow conversations being held by different people in different parts of the room. I heard a familiar voice from my former colleague at UK Power Networks, the investigator. He said, “Shiham is harmless, he just messes around with spreadsheets and stuff”. As this person used to be a former government employee (with HM Customs & Excise) it was no surprise that he was in on it. I was constantly reminded that it was the Crown that was doing this to me. For instance, my brother-in-law’s Rolex was made to catch the light and directed towards my eye, to remind me of the Crown logo on it.
The next thing I recall is being carted off to another room where things became far more ridiculous. Two women interviewed me, one of them dressed from head to toe in a fully red nurses costume. She would speak to me in a threatening manner, as red naturally represented danger. The entire time, there were comical screams in the background from another room with the accompanying sound of a saw cutting through bone. I believe that several of the post-hypnotic suggestions mentioned earlier were triggered at this point. When I was asked what I really wanted, I mentioned I wanted a good beating. When I was asked what else I wanted, what I genuinely wanted, I said I wanted a sex-change surgery (post hypnotic triggering).
There appears to be a bit of a time lapse after this (through hypnosis), as I found myself in another ward with some new games being played. I was asked to close my eyes and made to follow certain lights. There appeared to be a green light moving around inside my eye (possibly through a green mini LED being shined at my eyelids). I was led to believe that if I managed to follow this light around successfully with my eyes closed, I would be relieved from this ordeal by being killed. This was something I welcomed by this point as I was famished, dehydrated, sleep-deprived, completely disoriented and constantly being subject to intense stress tests. I was then led to believe that if I stayed sectioned for too long, I would have to undergo sex conversion therapy.
Following this, I was brought back to the ward where I was offered a choice between Pepsi Max and tea. It was suggested that I choose Pepsi Max. (Whilst I did not understand this choice at the time, it was revealed to me much later that Pepsi Max represents Africa, as it shares a logo on the KFC soda cup. This soda cup was placed strategically to help me make that association).
Having selected Pepsi Max, my wife showed me some pictures on her phone. This comprised of pictures of the both of us on holiday as well as pictures of me with various other family members, as well as the snaps that were taken at the slushie stand. The pictures with me in them started morphing – My wife and other members of my family were posing with some other individual instead of me. It appears that an app was installed on the phone which replaced the original pictures with photoshopped ones and did so with special effects.
After this, some doctors came into the ward to speak with me. I was asked if I had anything to do with the Easter attacks, to which I said a firm no. One of them then pulled out a sharp pencil with one hand and stretched out their index finger on the other. The implication was that there is only one God (something which Muslims believe, and usually try and say out aloud before the point of death as their final words. In the event the words cannot be said, some believe that an outstretched index finger will do). In other words, “say your prayers”. This finger gesture would be performed many times after this by several different people to threaten me.
They then asked me if I knew who I was sitting next to (my wife), to which I replied that I did not (post-hypnotic triggering). I was under the impression that if I pretended to not know her, I would be sectioned instead of being sent to Africa (more post-hypnotic triggering). Following this, I was wheeled out to another room, where I was offered some biscuits by my wife. She made sure to show me that they were made in Pakistan (after all, I had asked for naan bread earlier). I declined this time.
By this point, it was decided by all medical personnel concerned that I was to be sectioned due to “work-stress induced psychosis”. I had said and done all the right things to “warrant” this. The role of hypnosis, shock and awe tactics being employed, and being placed in extremely stressful situations by the intelligence services will not be captured in any report anywhere. British intelligence had successfully managed to section a perfectly healthy individual.
The fact that I have held several different positions in the past where high performance was expected of me, such as in the Big 4 consultancies and in FTSE 100 organisations, and the fact that it is inconceivable that a one-month job in which I had no interest in staying was somehow capable of inducing so much ‘stress’ that it resulted in psychosis will not matter.
No expense was spared to this purpose, and the number of people who were required to do so was astounding. It is incredible that all these people will be silenced using the Official Secrets Act. Sectioning appears to be something of paramount importance when framing “terrorists”, perhaps to ensure that the credibility of their word is always questioned. The entire crushing weight of the British state was brought down on me, with the use of the security service, the counter-terrorism police, the NHS, the military and my co-opted family and friends.
The things that my family were forced to do to a loved one may have scarred them, as I understand that some of them had to take time off from work to recover from the experience. Fear of reprisals by the state, the prospect of deportation, anger resulting from compromising material, the opportunity to spend another year with me and various other factors that I may never know no doubt convinced them that this was the only way.
I believe they are decent, loving people who care very much for me, but were exploited by British intelligence, who have mastery in such matters. It has been proven time and again that it is quite possible to enrage or terrify people enough to commit horrible acts to their nearest and dearest. In fact, since this experience, my wife and I have gone on to have a child. She had been asking me for children for some time anyway. She also revealed to me in an unguarded moment that one additional reason was her hopes that I would not attempt suicide in prison if I had a child to live for. It is entirely possible that the British state encouraged her to do so as well, not for any altruistic reasons such as preserving my lifespan, but rather to have another reason to blackmail her with when the day comes when her husband and father of her child is dragged away to prison.
I was driven in an ambulance by two soldier-types who were dressed in military fatigues. One of them made a motion as if he were about to slap me, to ensure my continued compliance. Once the ambulance parked up, each one of my hands was held by one of the soldiers. One hand was held firmly, whilst the other was held softly. I was told that things could go the ‘easy way’ or the ‘hard way’ and was told to pick which hand I would prefer. I picked the soft way, and I was led into a room; The Mental Health Ward at St Peters Hospital – the Alexander Cowley Unit.
I was made to sit in the games room, and some more “games” were played. It was indicated to me that I should dismember my privates using the table tennis equipment, which I obviously did not do. My brother-in-law mentioned that any time I was stressed, I should count from one to ten, stand up, and then say Allahu Akbar loudly (This was a joke being played by his handlers, I imagine).
Following this, two people came to me and held the rings on their wedding fingers together. On one ring was an American bald eagle, and on the other a symbol of the Crown, indicating to me that the US and the UK were in a marriage. The person wearing the eagle ring, an African gentleman, had a name tag around his neck which read “Sam”. It was being made clear to me that I would be under “Uncle Sam’s” responsibility in the future in a prison in Africa. I imagine this being an African equivalent to Guantanamo but run and staffed by a local government with American financing.
Keys were jangled, indicating that my privates were at risk. I was given some pills, and then told to meet with the doctor. The doctor, who incidentally was of African origin, asked me some questions, and guided my responses by showing me the sharp end of her pen every time I made an answer that was dissatisfactory to her. Following this, my ECG was taken very aggressively by her assistant, another African gent.
I was taken to my room after this. The entire night, people (staff, probably) would open the door and try and come in and behave in a threatening manner (such as stomping loudly and making angry faces). I resolved to wear my metal wristwatch around my knuckles and go to bed. This stopped any more intrusions from taking place.
The following day, I was asked to come to the TV room, where the TV was left on. News clips of the attacks in Sri Lanka were playing on the TV, followed by clips from various films and TV shows that appeared to indicate that this was all being done in an effort to control geo-political events over the course of decades and centuries.
Further, when I stepped into the dining room, there was a strategically placed poster which said, “It’s all about resources”. Over the course of the following two weeks that I was in the psychiatric unit, many more such games and exercises were carried out, being far too many to recount in this note. I shall mention a selection of incidents that transpired below.
It was clear that all the other “patients” who were admitted were all playing their respective roles. All the staff were in on it as well. The whole experience had been designed just for me.
It was indicated to me that I should keep quiet for the first few days. If I spoke, people would pace the hallways quickly whilst shooting looks at me. I later understood that this was done to ensure that records of my stay in hospital could state that I was in a catatonic state. When my sister and her husband visited, I tried to make conversation with them, but this was rapidly shut down by a burly patient coming up to and asking, “if I was okay?”. Jokes were made that there was nothing to do in the ward but “pace the hallways”.
On one occasion, my wife’s face was photoshopped onto some newspapers, which one of the patients was flicking through. The heading above the photo was ‘prominent local girl and doctor commits suicide’. I was shocked at first, but then surmised that this was impossible. Another newspaper article had a picture of my cousin’s face superimposed over a picture of some men in ISIS garb, giving me the impression that some of my cousins were involved in the attacks. I was not sure if this was the case but assumed that it was unlikely. By this point, I was wising up to the intelligence services attempts to unsettle me. Numerous references were also made to my wife being killed. I spent a lot of time in prayer asking for her wellbeing.
The entire time, my impending trip to Africa was being reinforced along with the loss of my private parts through various other such staged scenarios. There were several monologues about Christianity being the one true religion by one of the patients, until a Hindi-speaking female staff member (who later told me that I was allocated Hindi speaking staff instead of Tamil because I asked for naan and not rice) told him to follow his own religion without proselytising. It was also suggested to me that I should not be keeping my fasts (as it was Ramadan by this point) as people who are “mentally unstable” should not be fasting anyway.
There were constant references to the colour orange, such as the usage of Tango (an orange-favoured soda in the UK). This appeared to mean a beating. The implied threat was clear – Anytime there was a lack of cooperation on my part, either this drink or orange squash would be offered to me. More threats were made every evening when I was asked to the dining room to eat toast. The patients would constantly mention that “I’m toast” and would make a great show of smearing strawberry jam on their slices of toast. I came to dread mealtimes at the ward.
My family continued to play their respective roles during the next two weeks, constantly implying that I should go to Sri Lanka voluntarily. At one point, some Sri Lankan men attempted to enter the ward, saying that their “son” was in there and that his country needed him. They were told to leave, but not before being told that I did “not know anything”. I was also hypnotised numerous times during my stay in the hospital.
Later, I overheard a staged conversation stating that it would be best if I frequented Asian-heavy parts of Southern England, such as Tooting, Hounslow and Slough, because this is where I could be picked up by the police when my time came.
When the end of my two week scheduled stay in the psychiatric unit came to an end, my wife reiterated that I should not leave the room under any circumstances the day before my final review meeting with my assigned doctor (another doctor who also happened to be African). By this point, I had figured out that this was an attempt to get me to stay in hospital for longer. At night, some of the patients behaved threateningly towards me when I stepped out of my room to use the facilities. However, I carried on using the facilities as opposed to “peeing in a bottle” as I was told to do.
My review with the doctor was the following day, and I was told that my parents were arriving to visit and that I would be discharged as I appeared to have recovered enough from my “work-stress induced psychosis” to warrant a discharge. They were careful that I said the right things – The conversation was staged in such a way that I was not allowed to say anything which they deemed unacceptable. The medical professionals scratched themselves in an exaggerated manner any time I said something not fit for the report.
The doctor said it was good my parents had come; they could take care of me and take me “home” when the time came. With this, I was discharged, and my “care” was passed on to the local mental health unit in Woking.
Nearly a year has elapsed since all this occurred. In the first few months after my stay in hospital, my family and friends continued to play their roles by behaving in all sorts of odd manners. There are far too many such instances to recount, so I shall highlight some of the more prominent ones that stand out to me:
· My mother behaving very oddly towards me for a while, as predicted by my friend. I was most angered by what the British and the Sri Lankans were forcing her to do. Clearly, she believed that my father would be tortured otherwise. As the Sri Lankans are well known for torturing innocent civilians, this was a threat she did not take lightly (for more information on this, one can research ‘white van squads’ in Sri Lanka – elements of the state that are known for their particular brand of viciousness).
· My father indicating to me that if I did not cooperate and play along, he would be tortured. He did this by asking me if I did anything at all that should cause him concern. When I replied in the negative, he pulled out the toothpick in his mouth (as this occurred following dinner), placed it under his fingernails, and pushed it upwards, showing me what would happen to him if things went awry.
· The healthcare professionals assigned to me over the course of the year playing along with their respective roles, trying to convince me that I was continuing to imagine things.
· Not being permitted to look for work in the months following my release from hospital, as the pretence of mental illness had to be kept up. I was told that if I persisted and found a new role, there would be a repeat of what took place in my previous role.
· The presence of large numbers of armed police at Gatwick airport, strategically placed outside the multi-faith room so that I would see them as I walked into it. This unnerved my pregnant wife considerably, as I could tell from her facial reactions.
· Being monitored whilst on holiday in Spain and Portugal. Sounds would be made from the room above (always when my wife was asleep), which would cause me to have palpitations and make my eyes droop. It appears that such reactions can be elicited using hypnosis.
· Several instances of hypnosis while at home. I would be made to spin around for instance, without any control over myself. This was gradually reduced over time – mimicking gradual recovery from the “condition” (work-stress induced psychosis) I was “diagnosed” with. I later came to work out that all such hypnosis would be preceded by some knock, clicks or taps emanating from the ceiling. It appears that several post-hypnotic suggestions were given to me (possibly while admitted at the psychiatric ward) wherein I would be made to act out certain behaviours based on the knocks, clicks, and taps I heard. Another instance of this was being made to curtsy to the building, Duke’s Court, facing my bedroom window in Woking – No doubt my handlers found all this to be highly entertaining.
· Constant suggestions by my family to watch programs on TV about the Congo (Perhaps this is where the British intend to ship me off to). At one point, whilst watching an Anthony Bourdain documentary on my own about the Congo, I was made to raise up my hands as if to ask God why he decided that I needed to spend my life in a African prison. This episode was replete with images of dried monkeys (being bush kill).
· Being told to not pray. It was suggested that this would not be conducive to my health. My mother was very tearful when she was forced to say this to me. When I resisted, my family were told to act in a mournful manner. At this juncture, I decided to stop praying. Following this, my wife was asked to turn around and show me her rear. Later on, it was suggested to me that I had to apologise to her for missing a prayer, and when I looked over to her to do so, she readjusted her headscarf and it “hit” me in the process, thereby “forgiving” me. This was another staged act which was referenced when I was 20. Following this, I was not allowed to pray for a few weeks.
· Repeatedly being told by family members to grow out my beard, as I would look better with one. I grew out my beard for a little while. However, I was then asked to shave off my moustache (to emulate the classic ISIS look). This I refused. I have since gotten rid of the beard as well.
· Various other methods to intimidate me; On one occasion, as I was looking out of the living room window, a couple of policewomen walked past on the street below carrying green and orange items (implying death from a beating). On another occasion, a man dropped a green speaker on his orange shoe as he walked past. Everything was done in a very subtle manner, so that if any recordings of such events were obtained, it would appear to be completely innocuous. Other attempts to intimidate me include an unmarked police car speeding towards me with lights flashing but the siren turned off.
· Packaging for okra (eggplant) being left at my doorstep (playing on a racist trope that black people are fond of okra), empty bottles of Lynx Africa (a popular deodorant) being discarded near the periphery of my front door, suggestions by family members to eat watermelon and being nudged towards KFC every time takeaway food was ordered. One notable incident was at the London Waterloo train station where some African staff were given watermelons and told to eat it as I walked past, while someone nearby commented “it only costs £1.50, but stops you from getting clobbered”. Several other such references to Africa and Africans were made, to reinforce to me that some as-yet undisclosed location in Africa would be my destination, and to ensure that I internalise it. Such crassness is what I was asked to excuse several years ago under hypnosis by the British state.
· Staged conversations by strangers when I was at the shops about how the US and China were currently in a form of Cold War. This took place when I started researching online to understand why I was being targeted.
· My father-in-law playing a video on his phone which explained that divorce performed by saying the words “thalak” thrice are not counted when one is in “a state of madness.” Not that I was concerned, as this is a practice which exists in only certain under-developed parts of the world. In most Muslim countries, one is required to go speak with a court-appointed religious leader before divorce can even be considered.
· Being asked by my father to sit at the oil section of the local Asian supermarket (Atif’s in Woking). References were made to how one could be fried in oil. In a similar vein, the butchers in the store were asked to cut meat in an exaggerated manner, indicating the torture that would take place were I to find myself in Sri Lanka.
· Being asked by my parents to wear an amulet, with Quranic inscribing inside. This appeared to be especially important to them, as they are told to pretend that it warded off evil spirits. I was constantly exhorted by them to return to Sri Lanka, where religious scholars would expel such evil spirits. Meanwhile, my wife repeatedly suggested that I would be beaten if I were to wear the amulet. This appears to be a joke the intelligence services were playing on me, using the dichotomy between folk versions of Islam, which puts faith in amulets and trinkets, and the Salafi variant, which generally forbids the use of such items. My mother and my wife are pitted against each over this matter, and several events over this amulet were staged.
· Oblique conversations by family members about the countries I could be shipped off to be imprisoned in, such as Malaysia, where five prisoners apparently share a hard floor, and India, where Muslim terrorists are attacked in prisons. It was made apparent to me that my family had a choice in the outcome.
· Being taken to Jumma prayers (The Islamic equivalent of Sunday Mass) by my father at the local mosque (Masjid Al Birr in Woking), during which some “games” would be staged. I was taken to a designated spot to sit in and listen to the sermon. It was clear that the spot had been reserved for me. The people seated in front of me were wearing socks of different colours (red, orange and green). They would take turns to move their feet, and I was required to point at the one I preferred using my feet. As none of these colours appealed (for obvious reasons), I was made to sit there in confusion. Further, once the mosque emptied out, the ladies who were conversing after the end of the service suddenly went silent as I made Dua (an audible hush sound was made before all the ladies fell silent). They resumed their conversation once I had finished.
It never ceases to amaze me how many people have been privy to these “games” and occurrences. I imagine the people involved are asked to sign off on the official secrets act. And yet, the general public remains unaware of how the deep state operates with such impunity, and such matters remain the preserve of conspiracy theorists.
I was warned that I would be arrested just as I thought everything was fine. All such attempts to intimidate/influence me have now stopped. My family and close friends continue to keep up their elaborate charade. No doubt I will shortly be arrested and paraded in front of the media as some sort of Sri Lankan version of Bin Laden. I will be made to spend the rest of my life in a foreign prison, my child will lose her father, and my wife her husband, just to influence the outcome of an election in a distant land. I doubt very much that this note is going to change my fate, barring some miracle or divine intervention taking place.
The security services have been able to stop me from writing this note at any time of their choosing but are so brazen that nothing will happen as a result of it that they have ignored me altogether. Undoubtedly, the state will ensure that everyone concerned will maintain their silence following my arrest, with none of this making it out into the public domain through them.
However, one cannot help but clutch at straws in a desperate attempt. I doubt my family members or friends will be able to help either, as they will all be compelled to stick to their stories.
I thank you very much if you have managed to read this through to the end.
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