I chose the red pill » Addiction

Smokers Die Younger

hari — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 23:31:43 +0000

It was exquisite.

Soft beams of light seeped in through the frosted glass, like water dripping from a corporation-tap. Reflecting on the milky-white tiles of the bathroom, the light strayed about the four congested walls in infinite loops of Brownian motion, making the bathroom fittings seem gothic in a bohemian glow. He wasn’t sure whether it was Brownian motion or not; physics was his Achilles ’ heel – precisely why the physics professor at the IIT coaching class chucked him out, four years ago. He smiled at the thought – he had come a long way since then.

“Why’re you smiling dude?”

Sujoy’s voice echoed – floating through the psychedelic notes of Floyd.

Pink Floyd is sex.

Being a virgin, he couldn’t be sure – but if his more experienced friends were to be trusted, yes it is. The songs did something to men (and women), or, why else would two (perfectly heterosexual) friends light up in their toilets?

Why else would he, of all people, decide to light up, at all?

CC Credits: Pratheesh Prakash

If there was anything about the world that he hated – it was the cigarette. He could stand alcohol – he hated the smell, but drunk dudes were fun. He didn’t mind those of his friends that smoked up, they went on to win quizzes and debates, despite acting weird at times. He even got himself to forgive his pedophile of his friend, who proudly publicized his ‘conquest’ of the teenaged cousin, amid glory – he would probably rot in hell. But the cigarette…

Heck, no.

It all started when he first caught his dad in the act. He was a toddler, back then and thought his father was doing some magic trick by ‘eating fire’. Confident of repeating his dad’s amazing feat – he tried ‘eating’ a rolled-up newspaper with the other end on fire. He didn’t get himself singed thanks to a vigilant mom who went on to counsel her child, rather unparliamentarily. At the end of a passionate ‘one to one’ – the child emerged with tears in his eyes, countless cane-marks on his thighs and a hatred for the ‘tiny burning cylinder’.

As he grew up, he learned how deadly ‘the burning cylinder’ was and realized how badly his father was addicted to it. The last thing he wanted was to lose his father to gruesome mouth/blood cancer . He even devised an ingenious way to force his father into kicking the habit. The very next day, his mom scampered onto the terrace, having heard his father breaking into a vicious coughing spree. He smugly looked on as his mom rubbed his teary-eyed father’s back; tobacco when ingested with chilli powder gives interesting results, indeed.

From then on, his dad made it a point not to leave his Wills packets unattended.

Time sailed on, and life changed for the smartass pre-teen who now grew into a young man caught in a time-warp. Life just wasn’t happy-go-lucky any more. He flunked life’s tests, the same way he flunked despicably in exam. By the time he was 21, he had gotten himself beaten-up, was abandoned, lost his lady love and had gotten himself killed nearly-twice. Yet – he stayed himself clear of the ‘sutta’, which now even had a tribute-song of the same name to boot, all set to lure him.

At the end of the day, Pink Floyd won, where ‘Zeest – the band’ lost.

Lip service from Sujoy didn’t hurt. There’s just one life (Sujoy was Christian and didn’t subscribe to rebirth) – why waste it depriving oneself of the many pleasures and possibilities it offers? Some pleasures may slow down life’s timer, but old-age is pain. Be a man. Die in pleasure. Die happy. Die young.

Sujoy’s logic was undeniable.

He felt his body shiver as realization drove deep in. He had been through enough already. He had successfully repelled plenty of the worldly-vices (but fell prey to many others). Yet, life double-crossed him. Now the ball was in his court. His arms trembled – he even felt the world around him vibrate in resonance. Heck, he could even hear a buzz that grew louder in intensity with time – must be the resonance in action, he thought. The vein on his forehead twitched. Rivulets of sweat soiled his shirt. He stretched open his right arm (which was now trembling flailing incessantly). Revealing one of his classy smiles reserved for special occasions, Sujoy gingerly placed the Davidoff on our dude’s palm.

Davidoff Lights – It was slender and long. With great difficulty, he maneuvered his thumb, ring finger and little finger to push the cigarette between his index finger and the middle finger. He had half a mind to throw that despicable killing machine down and crush it with his feet. But…

“I… I gotto pee.”

The Forrest Gump moment.

“Be my guest.”

Sujoy ushered him into a ‘palatial’ restroom. Slamming the door behind him, our friend rushed inside. Opening the toilet seat, he lifted his right hand high in the air, and aimed the cigarette at the pot…

He had played the role of Chandrasekhar Azad in a school tableau – where he aimed a (fake) revolver at a group of attacking police officers. The cigarette was the sole bullet in our Azad’s revolver – and a white ‘pot’ of cops silently returned the stare. Back then, the ten-second tableaux won him the first place, but that day, he ‘enacted’ the scene for good ten-minutes. Then, like Azad, he drove his ‘bullet’ into his head.

Into his mouth, rather.

A concerned Sujoy, forced the door open to see the newly-christened Azad gaze blankly back – donning an unlit cigarette between his lips.

Sujoy flashed his ‘classy smile’ the second time, that day.

Soon, Sujoy’s Nokia 5130 Xpressmusic acquired position beside the shaving mirror – duly playing ‘High Hopes’ from Floyd. He shoved a bucket aside and sat on a chair brought from the dining room, while his friend made himself comfortable on the toilet seat. Sujoy conjured a lighter from nowhere and flicked it. The reddish-orange flame swayed like a belly dancer on trip.

“Let’s light up together, shall we?” Sujoy winked. Our friend bent down with Sujoy, aiming his cigarette to the flame. “Carefully man, A forest fire’s the last thing I want,” Sujoy took a dig his friend’s perennially-unkempt hair. Our man barely noticed the snide comment. His eyes were transfixed at the tip of his cigarette – which now made contact with the flame. The edge of the cigarette smouldered in an eerie glow. Tobacco and nicotine burned.

A moment late to notice Sujoy withdraw his lit cigarette, our friend pulled his head back. He looked up at Sujay, who seemed to be sucking the cigarette like a kid enjoying his frooti. A couple of seconds later, he withdrew the cigarette from his mouth and blew out a long trail of smoke. Having inhaled some of the smoke, he coughed badly – he loathed the very smell of cigarette smoke – it always made him cough. He wondered how it would be when he had the real thing.

Noticing his friend eyeing him quizzically, Sujay played teacher. “Look, first inhale through your mouth, as if the cigarette were a straw,” he took a drag. After blowing a (longer) trail of smoke, he clarified: “Then, inhale through your nose – the smoke has to get to the lungs. Otherwise, you’d be ‘mouthfagging’ which is the smoker’s equivalent of masturbation. You don’t wanna do that, do you? Now blow out the smoke, like what I just did. Try!”

Now our dude nearly had a heart-attack – he was so sure he had one, cause he hadn’t seen his heart beat this fast till date. Nevertheless, he mustered all courage, and took a deep drag at the cigarette, closing his eyes, half expecting himself to collapse due to a long bout of coughs. Having trapped the ‘smoke’ inside him, he opened his eyes.

“Now, inhale,” our friend followed Sujoy’s instructions and took a deep breath. He was so sure he’d cough away for the rest of the day, just because of this single drag.

Turns out that he didn’t.

As he inhaled, he felt something happen to him – a peculiar sensation took hold of his head. It wasn’t a bad feeling. On the contrary, he felt real good – a ‘ring of pleasure’ formed around his forehead, around his eyebrows. He felt slightly dizzy and elated.

Our buddy had the first ‘high’ of his life.

“Dude, you’re a bag of surprises – I expected you to lay writhing on the floor. But, look at you right on the first drag itself! Awesome man! ‘High’-five,” the Barney fan in Sujoy lifted his left palm, but never got the return five.

Meanwhile our friend took another drag. And another. And another. As soon as this cigarette got over, he lit up another one. He went on to smoke six cigarettes in a row, until he felt like vomiting – he felt as if some virus had infected his entire system, starting from his throat. He stood up, only to find that he couldn’t balance himself properly – he felt so ‘high’ that he thought his head hit the ceiling, only to realize the pointlessness of that PJ he just made up and smile involuntarily.

The sick feeling was at its peak, as he dumped his sixth cigarette into the closet. He thought he’d vomit any moment – smoking was indeed a bad idea. The high felt good, but the ‘hangover’ wasn’t quite appealing. He drunk six glasses of water, and had his second breakfast for the day from Sujoy’s place. Only then did the tendency to puke pass.

As he bade good bye to Sujoy, he renewed his pact – he wouldn’t touch another cigarette for the rest of his life. Ever.

*****************************************************************************************************

The protagonist of this story died of lung cancer, thirty six years later. He was a chain smoker, known to smoke at least three packets a day. He’s survived today by his wife and two children. The man spent the last few years of his life in deep agony. Yet, he regularly used to sneak away for a secret puff. “I won’t touch another cigarette,ever,” he promised to his wife moments before he passed away.

The staff nurse found two packets of cigarettes and a lighter from the man’s clothes, later that day.

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Kowdiar Lights: The Quest

The Curious Case of Collective Attention Deficit Disorder

hari — Wed, 13 Oct 2010 18:04:31 +0000

It’s a bright, sunny morning. Airily filling up your lungs with a (city variant of) the fresh morning air, you rev up your car and drive to work. As you’re half-way through, you notice a very obvious vibration from your jeans pocket – it’s the usual suspect, the mobile phone. You pick up the call – it’s your soulmate. She rants on and on about the brand-new outfit her dad purchased for her…But you’ve no clue as to what she’s talking about, do you?

Ah, yes. You’re driving – but did you just notice a city bus shave off the side-view mirror and the side-beeding of your car? Oh, okay, you were on the phone.

Yeah, right.

Later that evening, you watch one of those art-house flicks at the friendly-neighborhood multiplex – with your girlfriend as arm-candy. Suddenly, the screen goes dark – it’s apparently a part of the movie which is standard art-house flick material. You jerk your arm into the pant pocket and jerk out your office BlackBerry – can’t miss those mails from your US-based Boss, can you? It took you a long ten seconds to realize that your arm-candy wanted to make, err, ‘better use’ of the ‘dark break’. You take five more seconds with the BB, before you give in to the girl.

Any of these situations ring a bell?

The second one might be a tad too far-fetched (it’s true though – scene from PVR Mumbai, circa December 2009. ‘Avatar’ was the ‘arthouse flick’, however). But the issue is indeed a grave problem we all have faced at some point in time

Welcome to the new millennium of Collective Attention Deficit Disorder.

Image Courtesy: http://www.flickr.com/photos/brookhavenlab/

Patients with ‘Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder’ would find it difficult to focus on a particular task over a period of time. They get bored with the task fast, and quickly move on to other tasks. They have high tendencies of procrastination and exhibit escalated physical movement.

Today, this disorder is spreading rapidly, directly proportional to the growth of technology in our lives.

It’s necessary evil. We’ve accustomed ourselves to a ‘fast food culture’. We just cannot wait – we want instant results. Be it in any field – we rue traffic blocks, for they don’t allow us to reach our destinations on time. We curse slow computers, ’cause they don’t help us complete our task on time. Our bosses want tasks to be done in unrealistic deadlines. And in this survival of the fittest era, you can’t afford to budge.

Reading is a direct casualty of ADD – first it was hesitation to read long books. Thus, abridged versions were born. Then, people didn’t have time to read even abridged versions; short stories and blogs became the order of the day, for a while. Then came twitter, smashing all existing ‘literature’ with its 140 tiny characters. No, twitter and microblogging is yet to win over traditional publishing – but at this rate of exponential growth, that too could happen.

Even ‘Google’ has moved with the times, pun intended, with Google Instant, for lazybones like us reluctant enough to press the enter key on our keyboard. Remember ‘Google Wave’? It had the ‘revolutionary’ technology that directly posted what we typed (making the ‘enter’ button redundant again) – thus ‘increasing productivity’. In fact, Google’s obsession for fast results was evident by their hiring of the guy who made YouTube instant.

Alright, what’s wrong with shifting attention spans?

Simple – you’d end up wrecking your mind. Accept the fact, we’re not made of Dual Core processors – at least the males amongst us. Women have been multitasking for a while, but they too have a limit. Quoting a friend of mine, “Multitasking IS screwing many things at once.” You may not realize it – but you will, over time. Every time you indulge in more tasks than you can, simultaneously – your mental capacity takes a toll. Your mind’s like any machine – it needs rest. Give it some cool-off time, will you?

With short attention spans, you’d simply reach nowhere.

Here’s a DIY test:

Lay your hands on one of those short stories. Any simple story would do – it shouldn’t be too long. Get a stopwatch, set it on zero. Now, open the first page of your book and start reading – remember to switch on your stopwatch when you start. Once the story is over, note the time spent to read the story. Now that the story is over, choose a second short story of roughly the same length and complexity as the original one. Repeat the process – with one difference. Switch on the music – it should be your favourite track, and read the short story. Record the time taken.

Needless to say, you would have taken at least 50% more time, when you read the story with music on. And trust me, you wouldn’t even remember a lot about the second story – you’d just have a broad idea of what happened. You wouldn’t have enjoyed the music either.

Enough proof, innit?

So how do you tackle this attention deficit disorder?

The sad reality is, there’s no definite solution. You just cannot dump your blackberries and iPhones into the dead sea – they’ve irrevocably become a part of your life. But you can always try to give your full attention to one task at a time. While you are at a critical task, avoid interferences – you’d have the mental push to reply to that text – and if you intend to do that, you may certainly go to hell. Spend some time with yourself each day – take a walk, enjoy the beauty of the stars and the night sky (don’t forget to leave that confounded mobile handset in your couch as you go about it. ). Try meditation and yoga – with time, you’d be more focussed and productive.

Attention definite disorder is necessary evil – but you can’t afford it to ruin your life. Push it to the wall and leave it there. Go about your life, focussed and ready.

And yeah, give that new BlackBerry/iPhone a miss. it ain’t worth it.

P.S.
You CERTAINLY suffer from CHRONIC attention deficit disorder if you did not complete reading this post.

P.P.S.
Watch this video.

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Shaken, not stirred

hari — Fri, 25 Jun 2010 09:55:30 +0000

Last night, a lot broke up at home:
Mom’s shattered cutlery was epitome;
The car-windshield and dad’s chart,
Left no trace like my foundered heart.

Money would replace the losses,
All but one, which was still in musses,
The broken heart shall take its time,
Yet, it shall tick, weak and sublime.

My heart was always brittle,
It always fell prey to battle,
Layers of flesh and bones,
Couldn’t stop the pelted stones.

I foresaw the onslaught,
But all precautions went naught,
Ignoring the aftermath at bay,
I gave my heart away.

I blame none but myself,
Fighting eventuality itself,
I lost out, and nearly killed,
The heart which now stands tilled.

I pop pills to blind the pain,
Wearing plastic smiles to attain,
Much-needed closure and faux joy,
Contrived, like a child’s battered toy.

Someday, into the future,
I shall rise, aroused and mature,
Then, I’d beam and past, now interred,
I was sure shaken but not stirred!

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FakeMECian – Another blogging crusader.

hari — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 13:02:42 +0000

"Everything is hostile. The whole place is now a cage, a zoo.
Now this move by the authority is more psychological."

"Where do you see the "technical excellence" that we are supposed to be
receiving here."

"If Smokey gets a fleeting glance at it or has a gut instinct that
something’s not right about your chaddie, you are obliged to strip and
prove your innocence/crime."

Before you glance at the above lines condescendingly, brace yourself.

*Mild-Drumroll*

There’s a hot new blogger in the block. Or rather, on the prowl. He (uh, I can’t conclusively say if it’s a ‘he’, but for sake of convenience, I allow myself to be sued by womens’ lib groups) blogs from an undisclosed location, apparently within the environs of a certain ‘Model Engineering College’ at Kochi (one of the best engineering colleges in the state, for that matter). And there’s a hell lot of caged emotion and angst involved, seemingly for valid reasons.

*Exalted Drumroll*

Behold, ladies an gentlemen, make way for FakeMECian – a home grown blogger from the bustling ‘metro’ of Cochin, Kerala. And he’s no mean deal; he’s a razor sharp tongue and a style that’d even put Adiga to shame. And he’s the guts to put out some gross injustices going on in his educational institution, under an anonymous garb, nonetheless.

*Drumroll concludes*.

Visit the FakeMECian at – http://fakemecian.blogspot.com/

Ostensibly, FakeMECian has taken inspiration from this celebrity counterpart – FakeIPLPlayer. His blog talks about the numerous flaws and foibles going around in his college, which he tries to uncover in a light hearted manner. So, we have exquisite (and insanely-funny) narrations about a (supposedly) unruly Principal of the institution whose hobby is to confiscate mobile phones and laptops and make students live in hell. He reads messages from confiscated phones, and causes immense problems to the students, who are towards the end of it, screwed. Plus, many student-unfriendly and academically discouraging policies are being dissed in a lighter vein.

Having bogged down by these and many such instances, a strict gag-order in-place within the campus, FakeMECian decided to take the law unto his arms and harnessed the power of the Internet to protest against the atrocities.

And he’s hit jackpot.

His blog posts average 30 comments within a couple of days’ of publishing. The first and the most famous post – “Laptop Ban” – has around 122 comments (when this post was being written), and that too within a week of being published. The blog already has 84 followers. And if the comments are to be believed, many of the incidents narrated by the MECian are true. Students, alumni and faculty have posted there comments in the blog posts – most supportive of the MECian, and others pledging concrete action.

Apparently, the Principal found about the blog and conducted an en-masse raid in the Men’s hostel of the college – but in vein. MECian is still continuing his covert operations in full form. And his gang of supporters is growing.

There’s a possiblity that MECian is just another miscreant hell-bent on creating a ruckus: but there’s every reason to believe that the possiblity is baseless. There’s an entire community of students and alumni vouching for the FakeMECian, who’s now being vocally praised as a champion within the college campus. If the allegations raised by the MECian are true, the success of his plan of action is quite guaranteed – the world will come to know of what’s happening within the college premises and hopefully, corrective action will be taken soon.

Allow me to conclude with a quote by the blogger – and don’t forget to visit the blog and feast yourself with all the juicy details!

“Vendetta?? No way. We are either too lazy or too busy to take action against such atrocities even if it questioned our own Privacy. We got assignments and home works to do. So lets get back to our “busy” life and do nothing about it.”

A.M.D.G.

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These Grannies!

hari — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 18:09:09 +0000

Grannies – sweet old ladies with their seemingly-odd mannerisms and unending love – all of us adore them! They mean a lot to us! Despite the entire hubbub about lack of respect/care given to the aged, grannies/grandpas enjoy a special status at most homes. Unlike what they show in the movies/TV shows et al, we don’t show the door to our grandparents, as far as I know. At least my parents and a lion’s share of adults shower a lot of respect and love to their parents! Actually, there’s this friend of mine who virtually refused to eat food for an entire week over the death of her beloved Grandfather – she (and her family) were so shell shocked at his sudden demise – such was the attachment she shared with her grandpa.

No, in this post, I do not intend to talk about the cruelties meted out to senior citizens. I’m summarily against such acts, yes, and I’m all for showering love and care to the elderly at home (not at decrypt, money-minting ‘old age homes’!!). As the title suggests, I’m focusing on grannies in this post, or more specifically, a very special trait shared by all grannies, a very feminine trait apparently forced upon to them by God almighty, ostensibly embedded in all their genes as they popped out of their mothers’ wombs. Frankly speaking, this trait is not just restricted to the elderly, but it becomes prominent in old age, due to some inscrutable reason – perhaps due to some enhancement in mental capabilities or even sheer joblessness.

It’s a proven fact that Grannies virtually win hands-down, when it comes to GOSSIPPING!

As I said, even modern science is at a total loss to explain this phenomenon! Perhaps, some anthropologist should do a research paper on this topic. Check out any home at any part of the world, grannies would be a long step ahead of other female residents in the family when it comes to gossiping! They’d get all news hot-delivered and they’d be the first to break it to the other younger members of the family. There’s some inter-granny communication mechanism to facilitate it. Perhaps, grannies develop invisible antennae which use some intracellular data transmission algorithm (with speeds that kick the shits out of even TCP/IP), transferring data at speeds to the tune of many Gigabits per second. Had it not been for the reduced efficiency of the ‘data-transfer’ (yes, like in Chinese whispers – the listener ‘receives’ a message that lacks the slightest resemblance with the ‘transmitted data’), they could’ve used it for the next version of Internet!

I wasn’t aware of this Inter-granny Communication Protocol (IgCP – for all your geeks! ), until I heard my sister’s experience – which was indeed astounding, for want of a better word! Her experience wasn’t exactly one in a million, a fact assured by multitudes of similar incidents narrated by other acquaintances. Needless to say, my sister bore the brunt of a very devastating IgCP transmission and it took me an hour of talk to console her. Whew.

The story goes like this. Lachu a.k.a Lakshmi (my first cousin) goes to visit her best friend Gayathri, a day before she leaves to Chennai for higher studies. Now, Gayathri (a.k.a. G3! Yes, crazy nicks! ) is Lachu’s best friend. That is, if you see one of them alone, chances are that, the other person would be somewhere in a hundred square metre radius, anytime. So close, they were. They lived close to each other too; a fact that forever bolstered their sixteen year old companionship!

Needless to say, most of G3’s relatives have camped at her place, taking turns to ‘bid her goodbye’ (read: ‘lament her absence to the point of no-return’!) As Lachu hopped into G3’s room with her usual freewheeling charm, three grannies were competing to cuddle/kiss/pinch-her-cheek/caress-her-hair/advise her. Poor ol’ G3 was totally dazed with eyes rolling, as if in death row! Lachu’s arrival was too pleasant a surprise for her that she broke away with all her might and ran over to her buddy in capricious joy. That was when this salt-and-pepper haired granny curiously eyed Lachu, and beckoned to her with a smile. Servile and respectful that Lachu is, she goes to the granny and sits by her, at the place previously occupied by G3 and gives that charming sweet variant of her smile to the granny. This granny happens to be G3’s dad’s mother’s uncle’ aunt’s oldest daughter’s niece’s cousin, btw. Meanwhile, G3, exasperated, realizes what’s about to transpire and tries to warn her buddy, only in vain. The prey had fallen in the trap!

Granny: “Hey, you are Lakshmi right?”

Lachu (surprised): “Yes!”

Granny: “And you’re from the Earath house, near that Gopinathan Nair’s house?”

Lachu (dumbfound): “Yeah ammumma, you are right. I’m…”

Granny: “Your mom is Shobha no, and your dad is in the Gulf. How’s your sister doing?”

Lachu is now truly out of her mind, for this ammumma is from another part of the state and is visiting G3’s house for the first time! She has all the news in her fingertips! Whoa!

Granny: “Don’t you know Gopi?”

Lachu: ”Gopi?”

Granny: “Yeah, that’s right. Gayu mol’s (G3) cousin Gopi? The guy who’s doing his MBBS in Bangalore?”

Lachu: “Er… yeah, I do. I’ve seen him once or twice.”

Granny: “You guys talk a lot eh?”

Lachu: “Er… Not rea..”

Granny: “You guys did a party together when he touched down last year?”

Lachu (now totally aghast): “NNNOO…”

Granny: ”Oh, I guess you were great friends (<- special vocal emphasis) until a while back right?”

Granny 2 : “Hey, she’s blushing!”

Granny 3: “I think she’s sweating too! ”

The fourth granny concurred to the opinion of her compatriots, while the first was now clasping and caressing Lachu’s right palm, casting menacing glances. And to add fuel to the fire, Lachu’s mom entered the room at that very opportune moment. She too stood surprised at all the ‘allegations’.

It took some very spirited tactics from G3’s part to extricate my poor ol’ sis out of the situation! The fact of the matter was that, Lachu barely knew this Gopi guy. They’d met at some random marriage reception and they’d exchanged pleasantries as they sat and ate together – that was a year or so ago. Some granny had noted them sitting together and yes, and urban gossip legend (in IgCP, nonetheless) was born! And my poor ol’ sis – she lost all her alluring charm for two days straight!

So, the next time you see a calm and placid granny, take a closer look, and ESCAPE! They’re ninjas in disguise!

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Kowdiar Lights: The Quest

Kowdiar Lights: The Quest

hari — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 17:24:14 +0000

“I want Marlboro!”

Raghav’s words were loud and vigorous enough to scare the living wits out of Sushil and I. Raghav was Sushil’s friend. The two of us were on our way to CCD after a particularly tiresome day. That was when a slightly-overweight guy in blue Reebok tees and a queer gait, suitably accompanied by a a steady stream of smoke bellowing upward from his mouth approached us from the opposite side of the road – Raghav. Chaddi buddies, Sushil greeted Raghav with a bear hug (only before grabbing the smoldering cigarette from his mouth and discarding it – much to Raghav’s chagrin) and reprimanded him for smoking publicly in his area!! Image problems, yes!! Now, if you didn’t know, Sushil, Raghav and I are the biggest hypocrites Planet Earth has seen till date. You’ll know why, soon enough!

Now, it would be a gross understatement to call Raghav an ‘addict’ – he’s a class apart! A ‘clean’ guy until a few months back, his addiction was spurred by jobless days at an equally jobless internship at a company that offered free cigarettes even to passing visitors! Since then, there was no looking back. He’s tried all brands, lived even with tiny butts of used cigarettes when severly afflicted by the melt‘smoke’down ( fund-shortage due to cigarette bills amounting to thousands!), and even perfected all those astounding tricks of smoke-exhalation you see on TV. Yes, the world’s first professional smoker with a GPA of 9.2 (yeah, studies were always Priority #1! )

Until lately, Raghav too had a squeaky clean image at home, like Sushil. Only to lose it by succumbing to his addiction. Unable to suppress his withdrawal syndrome, he went out to get his daily puff and finished a whole pack in a matter of minutes, inexorably forgetting to disguise the acrid smell! His mom was quick to identify the odor and he had to vow that he wouldn’t take another puff.

The vow was broken the very next day, as he conveniently got himself a ‘Wills’, on his way back home after dropping off his sister at a reputed IIT coaching centre near CCD. That was when we met this dude. He mouthed the sudden urge to have perhaps the world’s most popular brand of cigarettes – his favourite, for the sake of stress release, he said. The mention of ‘Marlboro’ set the ball rolling. Sushil was a carbon copy of his chaddi-buddy, sort-of. But he hadn’t smoked in a while, and his image was still intact. He too wanted to get a high, and with firm resolve he seconded Raghav and proclaimed the mission – The Quest for Marlboro!

The term ‘quest’ in this context might seem hyperbolic, but yeah, Trivandrum is a very sleepy town, if you didn’t know! One still had to go the long contorted route to get a piece of ‘decent’, branded stuff. We didn’t know where to start off, but we were sure to find what we wanted, Kowdiar was the place to be in! We thought we’d start off with the melting pot of ‘hanging-outers’ – The venerable CCD!

We’d barely walked over to CCD, when Sushil found this pack of guys smoking, standing next to a car. Before we could do anything, he ran over to one of them and asked:

“Dude, you studied in my school right? Isn’t your name Sidharth?”

Sid: “Yup, that’s me. And hey, long time bro! “

Sushil: “Dude, where in TVM would you find a Marlboro? Pretty damn urgent!”

Sid: “Just head over to Grand Bazaar, at Style Plus. You’d find your stuff! All brands under the sun… you name it!”

Sushil: “Thanks a million, dude. You’re a lifesaver!”

I could see Raghav’s face light up in glee. So was Sushil’s. Thus, we walked through Belhaven Gardens (yea, the pee-place! ) and walked over to Devaswam board junction. They knew about the pee-story (which, ironically happened hardly a few days back) and were pulling my legs. I did my best to divert their attentions, non-smoker that I am. Pro-debater that Sushil is, he started quoting from “Thank You for smoking!” and other pro-smoking stuff. I had to shut up!! The dog’s tail would forever be curly! (പട്ടീടെ വാല്… ).

After a few minutes of walk, we reached Grand Bazaar. By now, Sushil had lost all his initial gusto for fear of image. Even Raghav had lost his courage, as a result of which, I had to lead the pack into the store. To my friends’ glee, there, all those packets were stacked right near the counter, by the wall! They were ogling at them the same way the three of us stared at this hot babe at Belhaven Gardens! Marlbro, Davidoff, B&C… all of ‘em were there, stacked in neat plastic-coated packets.

Raghav was far from satisfied, though. The packet that read “Marlbro” had a subtitle which read “lights”. As the name meant, it didn’t have the ‘kick’! He started a semi-fight with the salesgirl over the lack of Marlboro and even pleaded with her. By now, all the customers were staring at us! Sushil, with his ‘image’ problem, coaxed the dude into buying the Davidoff. Then again, our stingy Raghav tried the sales girl to sell him just a couple of loose cigarettes. The lady was visibly angry when she said no, so Raghav and Sushil shared money and bought a Rs 110 – 20 cigarette Davidoff packet! This is how it looked:

Sushil and the davidoff: Yeah, smokers die young. These guys never understand!

Anyways, we ran out of the store after the purchase – only to realize another folly. There was no lighter/matches to light the cigarette with! Raghav went inside again in search for a lighter but alas… The classic ‘water-water-everywhere’ scenario! A belligerent ’പെട്ടിക്കടക്കാരന്‍’ (shop keeper) came to the rescue with ‘kadak’ matchsticks. Then came the problem of ‘where to smoke’. The ‘Jaggus Kitchen’ right opposite to Style Plus was the answer. It housed a baskin robbins too! However, the very ‘friendly’ rates forced us to retreat – to a nondescript by-lane! (I was reminded of the ‘pee ‘incident in the recesses of a similar lane!) Then, like cannibals feasting on human bodies, they ripped open the packets and wildly picked up those objet’ d death!

Luck clearly wasn’t favoring them even now. Lighting up the matches was a hard job – the wind was blowing high and fast. Sushil now made up stories of how he lighted cigarettes amidst high winds. Surprised at the magnitude of that blatant lie, perhaps, Lord Vayu pulled the winds back and the cigaretted were lighted. It was fun to see the dudes exhale air!! Raghav and Sushil had very distinct styles of blowing smoke rings in the air! Sushil’s lips contracted to a very funny form as he did that – was damn funny!! Now, both of them started the next part of the bluffing saga. Sushil started by boasting that he’d smoked 40 joints, straight. Raghav wouldn’t agree. He countered by saying that his personal record was 50… LOL!! The bickering continued for a while until I intervened and solved it. After smoking a cigarette each and sharing a third piece 50-50, the pack was shoved back into Sushil’s laptop bag and we walked back to CCD.

Then came the problem of where to store the packets. Both of them wouldn’t take the packet home, for fear of parental detection! Finally Raghav chose to keep the packets in a consensus, after wild plans including loosely selling cigarettes at 5-apiece!!

After walking both the dudes back to CCD, where they smoked away the remaining 17 pieces in the packet, I walked to the bus stop. I reiterated my forever-philosophy in mind. If the dudes don’t control their habit, they’re sure goanna learn the hard way…

Smoking is injurious to health!

P.S.

The incident is real, but names are changed to protect identities and ‘images’ of certain ..ahem… very respectable people!

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Into Malayalam Blogging…

hari — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 13:44:00 +0000

It’s official, Malayalam’s a dying language! The National Language Commission’s report on Indian Languages last year put Malayalam in the perilous category of ‘Endangered’. With all the NRI Moolah, and burgeoning love for the Queen’s language we Mallus share, it’s not surprising. In fact, ‘Fraud Mallus’ abound when compared to hardcore ones! And that’s the biggest problem faced by Kerala! Why embrace English, when we have a beautiful dialect on our own? The saddest part of the fact is that the bifurcation to English begins right at school levels where kids are forced to speak in English or pay the fine! The effect is quite visible… A good number of guys/gals in my friends’ circle speak a crude variety of anglicised Mallu, which is neither English nor Malayalam! Many people I know choose to speak in English even for random, mundane purposes. Today, for most of us, a perfect English accent is chic, while a perfect Malayalam accent is so passe!

The irony of the situation is that I am writing about this stuff in English! That drives home the spread of English-addiction! Not for long… I too felt pained by the death of MY language and started a Malayalam Blog! Frequent visitors to my blog might’ve seen the link in my ‘user profile‘. But I didn’t exactly beat the drums out of it, because it was in a test stage. I was testing Language rendering in various O/Ses and browsers. Now that it’s almost perfect, I’ve let the cat out of the bag!

The non-descript link in my blogroll

The link is:

http://m.harishanker.net/

I hereby declare my Malayalam blog launched!!
Keep visiting and commenting!

Regards,
Hari

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