A bizarre misunderstanding turns my life upside down when my roommate falsely accuses me of practicing black magic. What started as an innocent accident spirals into a damaging black magic rumor that spreads through my PG and college, affecting my reputation. Can I fight back, or is superstition more powerful than logic? Read my story to find out.
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A Normal Day Turns into a Nightmare
Living in a PG in Bengaluru is an experience in itself. You share a tiny space with a stranger, learn to adjust to their habits, and hope for a peaceful coexistence. But sometimes, things spiral out of control in the most absurd ways.
My roommate is a B.Tech third-year student from the same college as mine. We were never particularly close, but we coexisted without issues—until one incident changed everything. One evening, while cutting vegetables, I accidentally sliced my palm. The knife was sharper than I had expected, and blood spilled onto the floor. I grabbed a cloth, did some quick dressing, and started cleaning up the mess.
Just as I was wiping the floor, my roommate walked in. Her face turned pale as if she had just witnessed a murder scene. I had no idea why she was so horrified. Maybe it was the sight of blood, or maybe she had watched too many horror movies. I shrugged it off and went about my business.
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When Superstition Takes Over
Now, here’s something else about me—I suffer from extreme hair fall. Every day, I find strands of my hair on my bed, pillow, clothes, and even the floor. It’s frustrating, but I have learned to deal with it. Every night, I gather the fallen strands and throw them in the dustbin.
One night, I was feeling particularly lazy. Instead of walking all the way to the dustbin, I wrapped the collected hair strands in a chocolate wrapper and put it aside, planning to dispose of it later. Unfortunately, or maybe coincidentally, my roommate found that wrapper before I could throw it away.
She opened it.
And that’s when all hell broke loose.
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The Absurd Accusation
She didn’t ask me why I had wrapped my hair in a chocolate wrapper. She didn’t give me a chance to explain. Instead, she jumped straight to the most ridiculous conclusion possible—black magic.
The next thing I knew, she had told people in our PG that I practice some dark occult ritual. At first, I laughed. How could anyone actually believe something so absurd? But the more I laughed, the more I realized—it wasn’t a joke to them.
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The Social Fallout
Within days, my PG-mates started acting differently. Some of them maintained an obvious distance. Others whispered when I walked past. Apparently, my roommate had done such a convincing job that most of them genuinely believed I was involved in black magic.
And the worst part? If she spreads this rumor in college, it won’t take long for everyone to believe it. Things like this spread faster than the truth. My reputation could be destroyed over something so idiotic.
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The Only Thing I Can Do
At this point, I don’t even know how to react. I could fight back, try to reason with them, try to prove I am not some dark sorceress. But let’s be honest—once people believe in a superstition, logic doesn’t matter.
So, I do the only thing that makes sense.
I laugh.
Because honestly, what else can I do?
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