Tuesday, June 17, 2008

I miss you fools

I know you all miss me reading out what I wrote as we sat around the steel tables at Udupi with chai that the guy had already poured into the cup 'cause he knew we were going to ask for it :P and masala papads and roti curries and idlis and talking about what one teacher had said that day or how another had put us to sleep and we took pictures of Langdi sleeping while her hand was still writing, showing everyone the mental pictures Cherry and Fire hair had taken in class and laughing and Nutty getting annoyed at the cigarette smoke, and Silky trying to hide it from the lecturers who came to Udupi also and Discoshanti wanting to go buy Rocksters for 100 bucks from that chappal shop and Adidas being on the phone all the time or talking about how the bitches in our class wanted to make us tear our hair out rather than work on the documentary and Cherry being diplomatic through it all. :)

Yes, this is why I miss you all.

Monday, June 9, 2008


A picture taken from many windows away. Framed, within the borders of the window, curtains silent. Tilted head and relaxed frame, a faraway look in the eyes. Hair split over shoulders carelessly, half smile frozen. A picture taken from many windows away.
Are reasons enough to justify actions that, had you a conscience, you would feel bad about?

Everything is fine in moderation. Its when it becomes an addiction that it gets dangerous.

I sat sipping my whiskey as I watched them. Through the clouds in their heads they were slowly powdering it fine, rolling, sealing, lighting and putting to their lips. Each time they sucked hard on it, closed their eyes, and passed it on.
He with the light brown hair did the same thing, but when he opened his eyes, he was smiling, claiming it had not affected him at all. They continued passing, sipping their drinks between joints.
And then suddenly, he with the light brown hair sat back, head leaning backwards, with eyes closed. Breathing. Then, the rancid smell of vomit filled the air. He stayed in exactly the same position. Some of the others got up and started to try and shake him into wakefulness. The others watched. He with the light brown hair began to choke. To choke on his own vomit.

He nearly died that night.

And yet, he tries to mock death in its face every day. It was as if that close call had filled him with a new curiosity - perhaps a curiosity that would be quenched only when he looked death in the face and death did not look away.
He with the light brown hair. As he pulled himself closer and closer towards the edge, he seemed to be getting more fanatic pleasure out of the small little lit roll of paper. He couldn't do without it.

I remember talking to a few of my friends. Its not wrong to try something out, is what I say. But don't let it consume you. I've tried it too, a joint. And not just once, about three or four times. But never have I wanted it purely because of how it made me feel. Never did I crave something just so I could feel how it wanted me to, or just so I could escape. I've had my phases where I tried smoking for what you would call a relatively long period of time. Four to six months is a relatively long period of time. But none of that, I found, was worth any more time. I chose my way of life, and I like it just the way it is. I've tried. I can tell you how it works. I can tel you how it feels. And I can also tell you that its not worth it.


You would think time was playing tricks on you. One day you're new to something, and the next day you're discovering a grey hair on your head. One minute you're making life changing decisions, and the next, you're contemplating every decision you've ever made in your life.
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