The Tea Company Workers

Nobody living outside the world understood how the residents of Sin SLAMPPEP, the world without love, existed. No rationale supported human existence there because there was no love there, which made life difficult to live in a world full of suicides. A mandatory funeral exposed a community's tragic loss from unacknowledged suicides. Money didn’t matter. Without hope and companionship, the government-supplied reproduction levels became mere test tubes in the laboratory of life. A relentless factory of reproduction, where each worker felt the grinding gears and the suffocating pressure of the assembly line. 

Everyone was a test-tube baby supplied by various workers’ sperm and eggs. While the workers slept, the government took them, prioritizing randomness over familial bonds. This randomness fostered a diverse gene pool, resulting in stronger offspring and a more robust workforce. The government dubbed this Pragma (love that endures) enduring love, yet it remained unspoken and forbidden here.

The government did not need to search for the children of random workers for any purpose because society did not tolerate friendships or love of any kind. The government watched everyone at their workplaces since everyone lived alone to ensure the rules and regulations of the Sin SLAMPPEP world were not being broken. 

Workplace and home environments lacked equilibrium, resulting in widespread loneliness. Agape (unconditional love) and Philia (deep friendship) were missing. Telephones, televisions, and live performances did not exist. Books about solo travel to foreign lands to discover other life. Never discuss personal relationships.  

No one understood why reproduction rates fluctuated, but government-funded nurseries played a crucial role in raising children until they reached adulthood. Rafi's punctuality and dedication ensured perfect attendance. The honour of his duty took him to the best positions within the company, where he excelled. He never asked for anything from his employers except to have the choice of his occupation. He practiced Ludus and loved to control his destiny. His playful, fun, or eager love for his occupation and self, Ludos, became challenged. 

Sange never got along with anyone at his nursery. He caused problems for all of his nursery mates. Early independence fostered self-sufficiency and societal co-existence in these children. When they reached adulthood, they knew their role well. Sange accepted whatever came his way without question. He never faltered and never doubted that the government would supply what he needed to live his life. 

The prestigious Tea Company of Bombay, known for its exquisite blends, dispatched Sange and Rafi to its modern satellite campus in Patna. The men worked side by side, pruning ripe tea leaves for harvest. They couldn't use machines for such a delicate harvest, as they would damage the plant and jeopardize future harvests. 

Working daily, Sange developed feelings for Rafi that he couldn't comprehend or expect.

His bewilderment unleashed unfamiliar emotions that overwhelmed Sange. Circumstances overwhelmed Sange, leaving him unprepared. With no prior involvement in relationships, Sange's actions were clumsy and ill-suited. To gain time for reflection, Sange went on leave; the solitude enabled him to compose a heartfelt letter to Rafi. The intense feelings for Rafi overwhelmed him, a mania that made it impossible for Sange to let go. His heart pounded with the force of this consuming obsession.

Every day, Rafi ate lunch alone in the fields. He knew it to be futile; his thoughts of everyone else didn't matter. They were off-limits. They forbade friends, lovers, and even waiting for a co-worker’s arrival before venturing into the field. 

The leader's death, which was a car-into-ocean suicide, caused national mourning. Everyone attended; however, the funeral lacked tears, flowers, and music. Kind words praised the man’s work—his convictions, nothing more. The ceremony showed his body on a funeral pyre afloat on the Ganges until the fire met the water.

Rafi listened and watched with intent and wondered if, when he died, they would speak about him in much the same manner and set his body afloat, lit on fire. He had no prior warning; this thought astonished him. 

Rafi detested the fact he noticed when Sange wasn’t around, and he failed to show up for work. Their position was the exception to the rule. Theirs did not rotate to avoid any unanticipated connections despite kindness having had its limits. The nursery staff likewise fostered independence and self-sufficiency in the children they raised.

Likewise, no genuine connections developed between anyone at work, and to avoid further help, no other attachments, even bosses and foremen, rotated. At the front lines, government workers in protective gear led the way, their footsteps echoing in the tense silence.

Maybe Sange's lack of peers in the nursery explained it; he realized opportunities like Rafi's were nonexistent. Sange stopped attending ‌and displayed his talent for choosing tea leaves. He wanted no association with anything that might link him with Ravi. 

Sange recognized that conforming brought about... No one needed to question Sange about his need to be on Rafi's team or his inability to perform his duties. Sange remained puzzled by Rafi's actions and had no clue what he planned each day at work. 

Sange's anxieties stemmed from governmental mistakes, colleagues' lack of trust, and their belief in Rafi. Sange yearned for friendship. His gaze at Rafi revealed his feelings to those familiar to him. Philia had a deep hold on Sange, and he could no more stop it than the government could not prevent the sun from rising daily. Rafi worked alongside Sange, showing nothing to Rafi to prove interest there or a longing for companionship of any kind at all. 

As the night deepened, Sange sat under the dim lamplight, the rhythmic crinkling of paper a constant comfort against the solitude. He kept one and took it to work with him in his pocket the next morning. He worked daily until his death. 

Sange waited for an opportunity to slip it into Rafi’s things. However, despite attempts, a chance to escape remained out of reach for a long time, leaving her frustrated and hopeless. Every day they worked together on the same project, Rafi looked at the plants as he talked to Sange. 

Sange remained silent, a knot of fear in his stomach, as he stood beside Rafi in the crisp outdoor air, unable to confess his feelings. Rafi felt a sickening pressure in his stomach; the stress ball of his anxiety forced all his attention onto his work. He appeared in the same situation as Sange yet remained loath to admit it.  

A month's heavy silence clung to the lonely field, the rustling grass a mournful sigh against the desolate landscape as Rafi worked. As the sun set, casting long shadows, Rafi felt a deep ache for Sange's absence. Upon arriving at the field, he found Rafi's bag under a tree. Rafi packed lunch. The round trip to the company cafeteria would have consumed his entire break. Rafi said "Hello" only to greet Sange.  

Rafi continued his role as a leaf pruner and returned to it. With a swift move, Sange slipped the note—a crumpled piece of paper he’d carried daily—into Rafi’s bag, seizing the fleeting opportunity. Sange went to the field and positioned himself next to Rafi in the adjacent row of tea plants.

They brushed fingers on a shared leaf, and with a shared jolt, their end result. It hovered between Eros (romantic love) and Philia (deep friendship) yet marked their connection. They loved spending their days together. Even though they made eye contact, they avoided any outward display of happiness. The time they spent together created a bond they shared, unbeknownst to the other.

The rhythmic clang of hammers and the occasional grunt of exertion were the only sounds breaking the silence as the men worked, their movements precise and powerful. Government arrival remained sporadic and unknown; discovery of their mirth promised dire consequences. Both men understood, and they remained apart because of it. 

One day, a work supervisor notified Rafi about Sange. “He cannot work today.” 

Rafi remained unflinching and unfazed. He nodded to the boss and returned to pruning the tea leaves. He remained emotionless and never faltered. Rafi discovered Sange took his life without warning because of his predicament with Rafi. 

The funeral brought 358 tea company workers together to mourn Sange. He took his life. He could not accept that he could love nothing or anyone. His depression gripped him like nothing he’d ever experienced as he longed for Rafi’s friendship. Rafi understood the seriousness of Sange’s message only after he saw him lying dead in the casket. 

A whisper, “Goodbye, my friend. I’ll miss you forever,” seemed to reach Rafi as he walked by the casket. As Rafi walked past the casket, he thought he heard Sange whisper, "Goodbye, my friend." I’ll miss you forever.” 

Humans must cultivate Philautica (love of self) to thrive because they are not to have companions. Sange’s life was incomplete. He no longer wanted to go on. The value of love would become clear to government employees and others. After learning something was unbearable, Sange killed himself without considering the impact on others. Sange ignored those he left behind. 

When Rafi arrived home, he tossed all his belongings into the tub. Then, he sat in the living room in his underwear, with his feet crossed, and lit incense. After conquering his inner turmoil, he slept‌. 

The following morning, while he walked to work, he passed over the overpass and stopped to watch the cars whiz by during rush hour below. He counted to three and jumped at two, and somewhere before he got to four, he caught the westbound bus and ended his life.

Pragma (enduring love), the final chapter of the Sin SLAMPPEP world, concluded that government restrictions stifled other forms of affection, setting off myriad suicides.