Its the cigarette that smokes, the person only Sucks!!

My day began. The sun was at his best when I came out from my apartment , walking through the same path which lead to the quadri-walls of my cubicle inside the intimidating multi-floored complex. The scorching heat reminded me of the rainy days which I had always cursed of, and the cozy warmth of bed from which one would never like to get up.

The sweltering heat taking its toll on mind as my thoughts wandered off to long forgotten times. Those evenings at Pallimoola had everything to offer- peace of mind, freedom from the strain of the day and, cigarettes. The first puff, the long cough that followed at the end of which I was almost at the verge of throwing up. Friends had warned me of not getting into the habit, or rather, to keep away from it. But situations kept coming when there were no other options than to take a long relaxing fag and blow out the gray smoke which had taken a brief visit of my interior. The world around would start to swirl as I reach almost the middle of the 69mm long "coffin nail".

They say drinks have better off outcomes than these paper rolls, but I say no. No matter how good(or bad) they are, cigarettes are, on the other hand, are far more affordable and won't let your consciousness go to sleep. I haven't tried any of those nor would if given a chance.

I have seen changes coming off to the people around me, sitting near "Appachan's Devalokam". There were guys who had no reasons for pursuing this habit, and were now far more addicted to it than I was. There were others who would not spend a single penny to buy one but nevertheless got themselves the elixir of life by waiting for other regulars, a phenomenon known locally as Welding.

Setting these aside, there were certainly some good experiences about being around at the smoke factory. There were guys whom you just cannot meet anywhere in college but could be found here almost always if you are looking for them. There was gossiping of the serious kind, debates on the current social and political scenario and unavoidably, those about girls. Bottom line- none of us had a girlfriend and don't pity ourselves nor blame our habits for it.



I have seen changes to the brands that had come by. From the usual 69mm long ones to the elite 74mm ones which I could afford only during the beginning of the month (that's when parents pour in cash for the kid's monthly expenditure). They were as cheap as Rs 1.50 ab initio, and, thanks to the annual budgets, were now sold at little less than Rs 10. Every new year brought with it the time to make resolutions and as always, my efforts to quit had become more or less passive.

Then there were friends, who would just not accommodate the fact of me not being as normal as them for the reason that I smoke. The words of wisdom and advice emanating from people of your age are more of a shame than regret to listen to. I was what I made myself to be, and I could go back the track only when I decided to.

Then there were other friends, whom I picked up at the place. The people with cigarettes but nothing to light them. The sharing would start of from the fire from ones' own cigarette to the others', and went all the way till both were inhaling from the same till the sponge-made butt start to smoke black. There were people from all walks of life coming in for a break here, construction workers, government officials, the unemployed and many more unidentifiable faces. But we all had one thing in common...

The night-outs at hostels would mean four or five packets of cheap quality ones vanishing as smoke when its time for combined studies and/ or movie time. Events at college that ran late into night and the morning after always had the same story to tell.

From the vibrant and joyous life of a student, I was turning into a 'gray man with a gray job'. Yes, that's what the "industry" has done to me!

There were offers from the MNCs that I had longed to be a part of. The first day at work, the nervous shiver which was internal and not from the centralized air cooling system and much more. The pleasure was to die pretty soon. The dumb machine was always there, insatiable just as the world outside ,just as the dementours , politely called "clients". With each day that turned itself to nothing but a number in the dusty calendar, the passion, the energy that made me opt for such a life drained into oblivion. My family, my parents, gradually reduced to exist as the people whom I now met perhaps once a year or so. The thread of friendship had ceased and withered away with time as we all parted for the purpose of existence, working as monotonously as I was. The yesteryears had nothing to offer but the melancholy of lost dreams, dreams unfulfilled, love unanswered and much, much more...

The burning butt of Davidoff spit out the last whisker of air as my boots crushed them...

Dedication: to all the Pallimoola friends of mine...