When Bangladesh was under colonial rule, in the later period, my greatgrandma and her family owned a lot of property in the capital, Dhaka (which the British renamed Dacca). My family would regularly house and hide rebels and separatists who the colonists were fighting on-and-off.

As my greatgrandma was a person in the community, a colonial official comes to visit her. He asks her if she knew anything about these rebels. My great-grandma says no, of course she doesn’t! But she offers him some tea — expensive tea. The official greatly appreciated.

A few days later it turns out that he had died of dysentery. Cased closed.

That’s not exactly right. You see, my ancestor laced the tea with enough poison that this British colonial official would have shit himself to death. :blobcatuwu: