Capitol city Lucknow. The hustle and bustle of hazratganj and MG road. A lot of the people of the low class now belong to political parties of the SP and BSP. That’s where they have a majority. Now this is a social and low class, CIA ghost cover up, called R. That’s what comes after me everyday, dressed as cheap, low cost, labor, something that we can’t do without. All this R is now brought in and rendered onto me by Sir, who is just an R too, but covers up as the land lord, and father. This social setup is not real, it stinks of people. They kill. They’ve done it before, and they’ll do it again. That’s what the West is here. And how they got to me, through R. Now I give to them, something that should never be local to me here. Would life get any better for me. Will I be able to sleep on time, and be restful, living in peace and not in fear all the time. Several people in the police and administrative tiers are also involved in this R, something they’re covering up as a news channel called Francke 24, then people start coming out from R. I’ve shut down both of them. I’m not dying for the west or any other cause. They only came to take me thus far. I must give to them, and avert this nonsense of them. But they kill. Nothing more. I’m scared as hell. I call them dad.