Can emotional bullying be as devastating and intense as physical abuse? This first-hand narrative will help arrive at a clear and logical answer. It was a day I wish had never happened.
Being meticulous at every step of my life, I was not lackadaisical about shifting to a new hostel for a month. However, despite informing in advance about my arrival, a long and frustrating wait awaited me, as the mammoth gates of the building remained unopened. After a series of repeated calls, the landlady sheepishly opened the gates with a lame excuse that she had overslept and failed to remember to keep the gate opened. Though a tinge of discontent flared up deep inside my stomach, I rubbished it off and walked inside to handover the rent, before occupying the space that I was allotted to. As I walked inside, I had the least idea of what awaited me. Though I hardly expected any welcoming gestures and smiling faces, the teeming anger, sarcasm, and mockery of a group of snooty women welcomed me to my new abode. Their body language and histrionics made it very evident that I would remain as an unexpected, un-welcomed, despised, and snubbed inmate during my month long stay. Though it was a sign of caution, I chose to overlook it as the immaturity of a bunch of women who are perplexed at the thought of losing the privacy they had been enjoying until then.
Next sign of obvious protest came in as the disagreement to share the cupboard, although I was allotted ample space to arrange my bags. Much to my shock and disbelief, I found smelly clothes and dirty wrappers stuffed inside the cupboard which was totally empty the previous day. As I patiently cleaning the space, the inmates chose to stay away and ganged up in a room close by. The trouble was far from over. Tired and hungry, I was getting ready to reach the office on time, but felt a tantalizing aroma from the kitchen. As I walked in, the inmates were hurriedly leaving after a scrumptious breakfast. Without expressing the dissent of not being told, I had the breakfast and packed my lunch for the day. Though I was surrounded my scornful eyes, spiteful yet unclear comments, and sarcasm-filled smiles, I was too patient to ignore them. I left for work with a heavy heart, wondering what more was in store.
Come evening and I walked back with an unbearable sinusitis headache, hoping for ample rest and sleep after a stressful day. The bed I was allotted to was cleverly preoccupied by an inmate who had messily left her books, laptops, and cell phone chargers on it. As the landlady paid no heed to my repeated requests to get the space vacated, I politely request the inmate to remove her belongings so that I can sleep peacefully. Although she removed everything while expressing her annoyance noticeably, once again I patiently chose to ignore the snootiness and tried my best to relax. But the worst was yet to come
As the inmates reached one after the other derisively laughing at me, a strong sense of hurtfulness and sickness grew deep inside. Though annoying and insulting antiques was what I received every minute, a resilient quietness was my reply, which annoyed them further. Soon the lights were all switched on and the room was lit like a stadium, music was played, and hullabaloos reached its peak. I confined to my bed, repeatedly begging them to let me sleep. My requests were unanswered and my illness turned out to be a matter of laughter for the entire girl gang who had a gala time throughout the evening. As the landlady walked in by 10.pm to lock the doors, my patience was at its last ebb. After giving a piece of my mind to the lot, I was all set to leave the place at night, but was requested by the landlady to stay back until the next morning.
Amid all the chaos, the landlady unknowingly spurted out that I was the victim of an unreasonable animosity of the girls who have always been vehemently against the idea of welcoming a new inmate.
Early the next day, I quit the place.
Being meticulous at every step of my life, I was not lackadaisical about shifting to a new hostel for a month. However, despite informing in advance about my arrival, a long and frustrating wait awaited me, as the mammoth gates of the building remained unopened. After a series of repeated calls, the landlady sheepishly opened the gates with a lame excuse that she had overslept and failed to remember to keep the gate opened. Though a tinge of discontent flared up deep inside my stomach, I rubbished it off and walked inside to handover the rent, before occupying the space that I was allotted to. As I walked inside, I had the least idea of what awaited me. Though I hardly expected any welcoming gestures and smiling faces, the teeming anger, sarcasm, and mockery of a group of snooty women welcomed me to my new abode. Their body language and histrionics made it very evident that I would remain as an unexpected, un-welcomed, despised, and snubbed inmate during my month long stay. Though it was a sign of caution, I chose to overlook it as the immaturity of a bunch of women who are perplexed at the thought of losing the privacy they had been enjoying until then.
Next sign of obvious protest came in as the disagreement to share the cupboard, although I was allotted ample space to arrange my bags. Much to my shock and disbelief, I found smelly clothes and dirty wrappers stuffed inside the cupboard which was totally empty the previous day. As I patiently cleaning the space, the inmates chose to stay away and ganged up in a room close by. The trouble was far from over. Tired and hungry, I was getting ready to reach the office on time, but felt a tantalizing aroma from the kitchen. As I walked in, the inmates were hurriedly leaving after a scrumptious breakfast. Without expressing the dissent of not being told, I had the breakfast and packed my lunch for the day. Though I was surrounded my scornful eyes, spiteful yet unclear comments, and sarcasm-filled smiles, I was too patient to ignore them. I left for work with a heavy heart, wondering what more was in store.
Come evening and I walked back with an unbearable sinusitis headache, hoping for ample rest and sleep after a stressful day. The bed I was allotted to was cleverly preoccupied by an inmate who had messily left her books, laptops, and cell phone chargers on it. As the landlady paid no heed to my repeated requests to get the space vacated, I politely request the inmate to remove her belongings so that I can sleep peacefully. Although she removed everything while expressing her annoyance noticeably, once again I patiently chose to ignore the snootiness and tried my best to relax. But the worst was yet to come
As the inmates reached one after the other derisively laughing at me, a strong sense of hurtfulness and sickness grew deep inside. Though annoying and insulting antiques was what I received every minute, a resilient quietness was my reply, which annoyed them further. Soon the lights were all switched on and the room was lit like a stadium, music was played, and hullabaloos reached its peak. I confined to my bed, repeatedly begging them to let me sleep. My requests were unanswered and my illness turned out to be a matter of laughter for the entire girl gang who had a gala time throughout the evening. As the landlady walked in by 10.pm to lock the doors, my patience was at its last ebb. After giving a piece of my mind to the lot, I was all set to leave the place at night, but was requested by the landlady to stay back until the next morning.
Amid all the chaos, the landlady unknowingly spurted out that I was the victim of an unreasonable animosity of the girls who have always been vehemently against the idea of welcoming a new inmate.
Early the next day, I quit the place.