I’m a sober man. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke anything. But this one time, when I had left my first job and my office batch pals (the ones who joined the office on the same date and were trained together for a while), put together a sort of unspoken farewell (God I hope it was, wasn’t it?), I did. I did drink, I smoked unknown stuff, took ignorantly long puffs off an arrangement people fancily call gravity. And I thought I was fine all along. Was I?
This was a Monday, in ages. I’d resigned on 10th January, and my flight back home 2500 km away, was on 20th. I slept between 6 – 8 am on those days and kept nights awake. I had not seen sunlight in over a week. I was seeing porn and movies back to back. I had low self-confidence, and I was, in retrospect, afraid, of the time to come. How family and relatives, would ask 100s of questions about leaving the job and the always pertinent “What Next?”, which I don’t have explicit answers to.
I still don’t know why I eventually indulged in something I hold my opinion preposterous about. Perhaps it was these lovely bunch of friends, who had made the stay at Arbaskas, fun and worthy. I think I did it for them. But I don’t really know them. Nobody talked about me the day after, about how crazy I got. Perhaps I wasn’t funny at all. Perhaps I was scary to see when I was laughing under the gravity smoke’s control. I would never know.
Or perhaps, in the background like linux daemons, it was the cry out to do something to take my mind off my parents’ recent separation. It was not mutual, that made it difficult. I’m trying to write something about what happened, perhaps I’ll share it away for free! Or I’ll just put efforts to get it published and request you to buy it. But that’s another story, let’s get back to the one I went high (read low) in.
I had been drifting apart from ink pens, they’d suddenly started appearing tough to write with. It might have been the paper, but I wanted to write only on that hand made yellow crinkly and hard feeling paper. So ink pens were out, at least for a while. The day of the high, I started lazily. I woke up, ate, bathed in the evening quickly as I’d promised the friend (who was hosting the night in his apartment), to come early to play basketball. It had been a year and a half since I’d played basketball. I was on my college team. No surprise, I was out of stamina, and I was out of shape so much so that I’d started hiding my tummy when I wore tighter uppers. It was a good game, only very exhausting.
Alcohol was arranged after that, bottles of beer of a brand I don’t remember, scotch, and gravity equipment ingredients. After the beer and two scotches, I was beginning to feel light. But all this while, my conscience was intact. My opinion about drinking or smoking anything being absolutely absurd held up high in my attempts to continuously keep telling myself in the head voice, that I could understand and see (with my eyes one-fourth closed) everything, hear everybody. But at the same time, because of this ego of being able to stand up for what I stood for, even after the intake of substances, I was intentionally trying to keep myself as awake as possible, but unintentionally tried to ignore the intention.
I sang a song with the guitar, which people appreciated. We listened to a couple of friends’ conversations from when they got excessively drunk after binge drinking for the first time and laughed our stomachs out.
At this point-a-time, I’d have forced myself to drop deliberately, but I didn’t. I started inhaling in the first round and then another. It all started being a challenge. For how long could I keep canceling the aftermaths of being high, while still being tipsy topsy-turvy.
Till the final drag, I was alright, and I was smiling for no reason (which is the best reason of all, even when one is sober), I was just listening to people’s chatter in our utterly confused state of minds, which disguised itself as being inhibition free. The last sniff was too much to handle, I ended up coughing for the next 30 seconds. My eyes went completely shut, set ablaze. They would have been red now, I could feel it. Still, at this point, I was completely aware of what was happening. I just wasn’t in my senses, because my senses had betrayed me to go strolling somewhere even they didn’t know.
I had a strong urge to ask everybody if they were aware of what was happening as well. I was exuberated about this realization, I was guilty that I had done this, and I was so curious what was happening to others. I didn’t ask anybody out of fear that if I opened my mouth and wasn’t able to control what I said (because my senses had gone strolling), it would end up being remembered as an incident which would be kept alive to tease me forever.
Just as I’d decided to suppress this urge, as if backfiring, I found my senses to be gone further away than ever. I started laughing after repeating something someone had just said.
A (Sober): Hey! He’s (myself) not able to keep it, watch if he falls!
Me: Just keep an eye on him (super loud laughs) boss, just watch him man, just you watch him, you watch (super load laughs again).
It was funny how it came out. After some time, I was amazed, that I’d constantly known what was happening in my mind, in the room, who was speaking what, for such a long stretch, for I had had a very different impression of being high. Still, I wasn’t able to control my body, it wasn’t a good feeling. I came one step closer to a thought experiment I’d read about somewhere
Imagine, an angry soul without a body.
I was an angry soul without the sense in the body. My mind was mind fucked.
I was also chuckling away about the fact that people get high to get happy. I wasn’t happy, in fact, I couldn’t be happy, not in this state. Soon, I started having burning sensations in my chest, and I started drinking water out of the jug that was in the room. My friends took it as something I was doing involuntarily, so they tried keeping me away, which was funny again. Then the most dreadful thing happened. My body started shaking involuntarily. I got wary in an instant because I’d seen a friend who had juvenile epilepsy, unable to control her body under seizure. I was so frightened, some of my senses decided to quit fooling around and come back. I was frightened to tell anybody. I ate as much dinner as possible and informed everyone that I was off to sleep.
I tucked myself under the blanket and started observing what was happening to me. I couldn’t sleep just yet. My heart was beating at a phenomenal rate. The bridge of the nose was throbbing like it was going to burst in no time. I was restless, and I kept turning from one side to another. With the throbbing and the beating, I thought I was going to die. I started thinking about all sorts of things that I was about to leave in between, the regrets of the past, people I loved. I kept fidgeting, but kept my focus on my breath, kept taking long and deep ones. At one point in time, I had to personify my hand as another person’s and pat myself slowly on the chest whispering
Everything’s going to be alright, don’t worry.
After I started feeling a little better, I slept. Next day I woke up early and drove myself away. I didn’t even have anything to say to myself anymore, everything was crystal clear, rooted, and sorted. This was not going to happen ever again.
I came back and opened up my computer to Andee McKee’s guitar instrumentals, and I saw the wallpaper of Saray Kay in this beautiful floral, creamy dress. I couldn’t help but forget everything and smile. She’s magical.
All Blog Posts’ P.S: English is my second language, and I do not write well in my first (Hindi). While reading my blogposts, if you find a sentence or paragraph that can be written in a better way, or find any grammatical mistakes, please feel free to suggest them in the comments. I’d really appreciate it. And you are awesome!