The Trip To Nowhere 6t6s5c

http://www.pustaka.co.in

The Trip to Nowhere

Author:

Sivasankari

For more books

http://www.pustaka.co.in/home/author/sivasankari-novels

Digital/Electronic Copyright © by Pustaka Digital Media Pvt. Ltd.

All other copyright © by Author.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

About the author

Sivasankari is a prolific Tamil author who has written with great awareness on social issues and social problems. Nationally recognised and honoured for her writings, she is the recipient of several awards. Her works have been translated into many Indian languages, English, Japanese and Ukrainian. Some of her major works are Oru Manithanin Kathai, Awan, Nandu, Verillathia Marangal,

Amma Chonna Kathaikal. Knit India Through Literature is her mega-project involving intense sourcing, research and translation of literature from 18 Indian languages, with a mission to introduce Indians to other Indians through culture and literature.

Author's Note

My first exposure to the world of drug addiction came in 1970 during my first trip to the United States. The enormity of the problem and its horrifying consequences gripped my imagination and remained embedded in my subconscious. A decade and a half later, my thoughts have taken the shape of Avan. The UN declared 1985 the International Year of the Youth and I felt the need to commemorate this in my own way by writing a serialised story on the problem of drug abuse that was by then assuming alarming proportions in India. I wanted to create an awareness of drug addiction and its consequent problems amongst the people, particularly among parents and the youth.

The reasons why people take to smoking, drinking or drugs are many but the following are the most common

a) For the sheer pleasure of it.

b) Unable to contain their curiosity over drugs.

c) Coerced into it by peers.

Apart from this, yet another important reason is the easy access to money that many of the young today enjoy. Psychologists claim that in families where both parents are working, there is often an attempt to overindulge the children by giving them money and gifts to compensate for their inability to spend quality time with their children.

I would like to add that the 'generation gap' that adults have allowed to creep into their relationships with their children is yet another reason for their indulging in such endangering practices. We should also acknowledge that the root cause of relationship conflicts is lack of communication. Free and frank discussions from time to time would go a long way towards nipping conflicts in the bud. We need to understand that it is entirely in our hands how peacefully we lead our lives and how we are able to keep it conflict free. Experts feel that if we develop our self confidence and give up on leaning on others and looking up to them to resolve our problems, we will be able to face up to life in a far more self assured manner.

I would like to stress here that while the story is fictional, although pieced together on the lives of the numerous drug addicts I met and the case studies experts provided me with, the material provided at the end of each chapter related to drugs, their aftereffects and so on are completely factual. I express my gratitude to all of those people drug addicts, doctors, parents and others—who opened up to me during my research to write this story. The book is as much theirs as it is mine!

My sincere thanks to Shobana Swaminathan, Rekha Shetty and Janaki Viswanathan for helping me translate the original Tamil version to English.

Sivasankari.

Chapter 1

The insistent noise showed no signs of fading. Filtering through the mists of sleep it bored into his consciousness. Someone was knocking persistently at his door. It was his mother. He opened his eyes a slit. Light poured in through the window. Gosh! It was quite late. His head ached abominably.

Prem, are you planning to get up or not? It's 7.30. His mother was irritating, but right. He stumbled out of bed wondering whether this was what a hangover was like. The kind his father jokingly complained about after staying up half the night drinking.

Last night was strange. He was appointed unofficial bartender at the party. He hated the condescending way his Dad's friends had treated him as though he was only 10 years old. 'Have a drink kid!' his father had said, his voice already slurred by a couple of large ones. Poor guy! He had not known that his young son was smarter than he looked. Prem ed the guilty pleasure of gulping down several unauthorised pegs without Dad's knowledge. Not that he could notice much either in the state that he was in. Unlike his usual judge-like demeanour, he was slightly unsteady, overflowing with drunken goodwill. Prem was sure he would never act so foolish even after several pegs. The old man was quite embarrassing!

Open the door!' his mother's voice took on a no-nonsense edge.

Prem opened the door and looked blearily at her.

Your first day of college and you're still asleep. You should have been ready by now. Revathi, having risen at dawn and freshly bathed, felt righteously indignant.

She could not understand this son of hers. How could someone brought up in her immaculate house, keep his room in such a mess? Her face wrinkled in distaste as she bent down to pick up the clothes and books strewn around the room in wild disarray. She looked at Prem. He was looking at her amused. It maddened her. 'How many times have I told you to get into your pyjamas before going to bed?'

Sorry Ma, I was tired,' mumbled Prem, looking slightly resentful.

"So what? I am really fed up with you, Prem. Yesterday you walked into the party right after tennis. You looked like some rotten stuff the cats brought in. I have never been so embarrassed in my life!" Revathi could hear her voice becoming shrill. Prem slumped down on the bed, looking sullen and harassed.

Revathi felt a pang. Maybe she was being too harsh. 'Listen to me,' she said calmly. 'I am saying this only because I care for you. Look at Sandhya. Everyone tells me how lucky I am to have a daughter like her.'

Prem looked at her indifferently across the chasm which yawned between them. Her soul hardened. An accusing note crept into her voice

"Did you drink last night? She demanded in a rising tone.

'Dad asked me to help myself,' said Prem defiantly.

Finding an opening, Revathi launched into a tirade. 'Dad must have thought that at 17 you are adult enough to have some sense of responsibility. Does that mean you have to drink a whole glass? A sip would have been enough!'

Prem tried to shut out her nagging comments. Having to listen to her hysterical lectures at this early hour and in a state of hangover added to his irritation. God! He wished he could go back to sleep. Why couldn't she get lost!

Prem threw himself into bed and turned his back on her. Revathi felt helpless as she always did when Prem acted this way. She looked around. A typical teenager's room-giant posters on the wall, hairy Beatles and Brooke Shields with a come-hither look. Cars about to zoom off. The room was in a mess-clothes thrown around, guitar propped up in a corner, books scattered all over the bed and his tennis racket flung together with his shoes in a corner.

Prem's resentful silence and her inability to dent his indifference enraged her. "Why don't you clean your room? You don't allow the servant to clean it. Can't you even put out your dirty clothes for wash? Look at Sandhya's room... it is spotless. She is busy too. How does she find time?' Revathi's voice was shrill and accusing.

'I am not like your precious Sandhya. I don't want to be like her! So don't bring up any comparison. I had guitar classes and then the party. I told you I had no time. Don't go on and on.'

'Don't make me go on and on. I keep telling you the same things. What is the use? Sandhya has NCC, college, French classes. Yesterday she even helped me with the dessert. She finds the time, but you never do!

Prem felt choked. It was always like this. The pointless comparisons. The attacks on his self-esteem.

‘Ok,' he said with a hint of tears in his voice "She is a winner and I am a loser. She is brilliant and I am a fool. You like her and you don't like me. Now just leave me alone!"

The pain in his voice finally reached Revathi. She hugged him penitently. 'No, Prem. That is not true. You are both my children and I love you too. I only wish you were more responsible.' Prem turned away, walked into the bathroom and banged the door shut.

Prem was seething with rage. The unfairness of it all! Didn't they care that he played the guitar almost like a professional? His friends said he had a great future. He was the school champ in tennis, but all his parents cared about was his studies. 'Study computer science or be an MBA. Education is the only foundation for a great future,' his father preached solemnly a thousand times. How boring it all was! The future... all of it sounded like nonsense. ‘Bloody nonsense!' Prem said to himself, with a savage satisfaction, having used a forbidden word.

He desperately needed a smoke to calm him. The cigarettes were carefully hidden under the clothes in his cupboard. What if his mother was still there? She was sure to start howling at him again about dripping water all over the bedroom. That would be the beginning of another lecture on cleanliness, responsibility, blah, blah! Forget it

After a quick shower he dragged on his old Levis and a T-shirt, combed his hair, ruffling it again to give it a fashionably disarrayed look. Checked his wallet. Twelve rupees was fine for the first day of college. Picked up his half-read Sidney Sheldon and walked to the breakfast table. His Dad was there, dressed perfectly as usual.

"Good morning son, he said looking up from The Economic Times."

'Morning, Dad. All set?'

Yes, Dad.

'Excited?'

His mouth full, Prem nodded.

"Good. Now hurry up and change.'

I'm ready, Prem said.

"Don't tell me you're going to college dressed like this."

"What's wrong with this?"

'Wrong? It's revolting. The shirt is not even clean. Go and change at once! 'Dad... please!

I don't want any arguments. I'm ashamed of you. Change immediately. And why can't you comb your hair?'

Prem went up sullenly to change, while his father waited, glancing impatiently at his watch. Mom and Sis were waiting to wish him luck. After all it was a special day-his first day at college. His Dad drove him down. A special treat on the first day. As usual, his father used the opportunity to advise him on the importance of education. Prem switched off. He had heard it a thousand times before.

He got off at the college, waited for his father to leave, carefully ruffled his hair and walked up nonchalantly to the imposing gates.

He stopped short when he saw a row of boys perched on the compound wall. One of them, a tall, moustachioed young man, snapped his fingers at him. "Hi! I'm Sunil he grinned looking down at the nonplussed fresher. "Be a good boy. Greet your elders! Buck up man. Don't stare like an idiot. Do it the Indian way. Touch our feet.

He smiled sardonically at Prem, waiting for him to pay his respects.

***

Sunil

Prem is meeting Sunil for the first time today. Sunil is an only child to his parents. His father Bhagvandas started life as a clerk to a wealthy Englishman but hard work saw him rise in life. Today, he owns tea estates in Kotagiri and enjoys a luxurious lifestyle. Sunil's mother Rohini hailed from a poor family too, much like her husband. Her husband's newfound riches have not changed her and she leads a fairly austere life, spending much of her time in prayer. She is unable to cope with her husband's ultra modern lifestyle and puts up with all his excesses, clinging on to the age-old belief that the husband is like God, and that his word is law.

Sunil was born to them after nearly seventeen years of marriage, following visits to various shrines and the performance of numerous rituals. It is quite understandable then why they indulge and cherish him so much, why they give in to his every whim and fancy.

Sunil grew up studying in a convent school in Ooty.

He started smoking while in Class VIII and in two years' time graduated to two packs a day. He had his first taste of beer at the age of fourteen. By the time he was graduating from school, he could boast of having tasted just about every drink available.

Sunil was able to complete his schooling, thanks to the fat annual donations Bhagvandas made to the school. He crossed the hurdle of Boards as well, after Bhagvandas, fearing Rohini's tears, tracked down the teachers correcting each of the papers and bribed them sufficiently to enable Sunil to clear all the papers.

Sunil ed a college in Madras and is now in II year BA. Of course, he has not cleared any of his I year papers and the fact that he is a hostelite ensures that there is nobody around to question him.

His friend Jagannathan first introduced Sunil to grass or ganja when he was in Class XII. He started with just one or two but is now accustomed to smoking close to a dozen ganja cigarettes every day.

Sunil has no financial worries. Why would he, with a mother like Rohini? Whenever her son asked her for money, she treated it like a request from God. She gave in unconditionally to his demands.

Every alternate day, Sunil would buy a tola of ganja, and use it to make around twenty-five cigarettes. He was very generous with them and offered them to friends and classmates for free, wanting them to experience the ecstasy he did.

Chapter 2

"Ok, come on."

Good morning!

'In Tamil.’

'Vanakkam.’

'Is this how you greet your elders?'

"Vanakkam, Sir."

"Who do you think you are? A General? A little more respect if you don't mind. The spine can do with a little more bending."

Prem gave a quick glance round. Where the hell were Mahesh and Siva? Mahesh was doing his B Com and Siva, Chemistry. Both were known to Prem.

'Don't bother about ragging on the first day of college,' they had told him. 'We'll be at the gate and tell the other seniors you are a pal of ours.’

'Hey, lay off him, we'll tell them. Don't worry!’ But neither was to be seen. Perhaps they were late. Or perhaps he was too early, too eager to begin his first day at college. He cast a quick glance around in search of his friends and realized that he was not the only one being ragged.

"A paisa for your thoughts."

Prem's wandering eyes and mind focused abruptly on his Surroundings.

Nothing. Two boys, Mahesh and Siva... I know them. One is doing his B Com, the other Chemistry. They told me they'd wait for me. I am just looking for them.

Sunil's eyes crinkled in amusement. He smiled and looked down at Prem.

‘Trying to drop names, are you?'

"No, no... nothing like that. I know that college and ragging go together.'

"Ok Now that you know, what are you waiting for? Quick, don't waste any more of our time. Do what you are told. There are others waiting for our ill attention."

Prem folded his hands. His body angled forward.

‘Vanakkam, guruji,' he said respectfully.

"Shabash! If you had co-operated earlier, you would have saved us all a lot of time.

'A youngster sitting next to Sunil piped up. 'What do you mean by shabashifying him? He only called you guruji? You had asked him to do something else before greeting you.'

Of course I did. Sorry, Hari. Hey you fresher, you heard us the first time, didn't you? Do as you are told and move on.' Prem hesitated. 'It's getting late,' he mumbled.

Everyone's eyes were pinned on him. Prem was unnerved.

‘Please,’ he murmured.

‘Why, what's the problem? I can't see any. My feet are not that dirty or repulsive, are they?'

Exactly! Hari piped up again, bending down to peer closely at Sunil's feet. You should feel honoured to touch feet such as these as beautiful as the lotus flower and as soft as rose petals,' he waxed lyrical.

Seeing no way out, Prem bent and quickly touched Sunil's feet. 'Vanakkam, Sir.

"Good. That was much better. Ok fellows, shall we move on to the next one?"

'Hang on, yaar. What's the hurry? I'm next in line and after that all these seniors sitting beside me. Come on fellows, put out your blessed feet and let the kid have the honour of paying his homage, Don't forget to bless him. The fresher is going to need it.'

With no option, Prem went past each one touching their feet-an odd assortment of Kolhapuris and Adidas'. Blessings came raining down on him. 'Quickly acquire a reputation for being a hare brained idiot. Learn how to cut classes and go to a movie. If you want to be the best, be the best loafer in town. Look the lecturer straight in the eye and don't hesitate to answer back. And when you smoke, smoke in a Stylish manner. Each blessing provoked a gale of laughter.’

The gaggle of seniors seemed to be enjoying themselves thoroughly. Everyone was, except the victim.

May I go, Sir?

Louder. May Igo, Sir?

"Stay, what's the hurry? 'I want to find my classroom."

'Oh, there is plenty of time to do it. By the way, what's your name?'

Prem. You came in a car, didn't you? Rich father, eh?'

‘………’

You have to learn to answer questions. Otherwise you'll be here forever.

"Mmm... being the first day, my Dad dropped me.'

He looks like a smart fellow. Why don't you ask him to sing and dance, Sunil?

Sunil lit a cigarette and blew the smoke on Prem's face. ‘You sing?'

‘Yes, and play guitar too. I've always won all the music competitions at school.'

Then forget it. Smoke?

Mmm.

How many a day?

Three, four.

'On the sly, I suppose?'

Mmm.

Sunil rolled the t in his hands.

Try one of mine?

Before Prem could answer, he heard his name being called. It was Siva who was standing behind him.

You're here.

"Hello, Sunil. Hi, Hari. Hi, Kasi. Siva greeted the boys and then turned to Prem. I've been looking for you everywhere. When did you come?'

Sunil didn't give Prem a chance to answer. He cut in.

‘Is he your pal? He's been with us for the last ten minutes."

"I've been walking round the campus in search of him. I saw two or three group of seniors near the lab and hostel. I couldn't find him there, so I came across here.'

"He is a good boy. Did as he was told."

So can he go now?'

‘Arre, stay yaar, what's the rush. Want a t?' Siva laughed and shook his head,

"What's the time? How many minutes more to the bell?'

Ten.

'Good. We have time for one more guy at least. Look there, the one with the oil well on his head. Call him.'

Siva was a softie.

‘Don't crowd the guy, Sunil. Looks like a desperate case to me. Ignoring Siva's request, Sunil beckoned to the gangling boy with slick hair.

"Hello, brother. Your father runs an oil store, doesn't he?"

The newcomer stared blankly at the intimidating group, not understanding what on earth was going on.

‘Name?' Hari asked.

"Appuswami..."

The God of the Asiad mascot, eh?

The boy looked more dazed than ever. He gaped at the rest who broke into peals of laughter.

'Which group?’

"First year. Economics."

Sunil stared at the skinny lad whose trembling hands betrayed the state he was in. The vibhuti mark on his forehead told its own tale.

"Iyer boy, huh?"

"Yes, Sir."

‘Great. What's that you are carrying? Tiffin box, I guess. Come on, Hari, let's see what's inside.'

Neatly packed dosas lay inside. The smell of milngaipodi wafted to the inspecting group, whetting their appetites. The contents were shared and finished in a trice.

All said and done, there's nothing to beat the milagaipodi and the samur of an Iyer house.

Wiping the oil and dosa stains on his handkerchief, Sunil offered his outstretched hands to the fresher, cigarette packet in one and a lighter in the other.

Sunil is not one to take something for nothing. Help yourself to as many as you want.

"No, thank you."

"Oh, come on, don't make a fuss."

Siva stepped forward. Forget it, Sunil. If he doesn't smoke, don't force him, especially not this kind.

"Why not? First class grass. I sat up the whole night rolling them myself.’

The bell rang. Sunil jumped down. 'Ok fellows, fun time is over. See you during the lunch break. Hey, Appuswami, if you feel hungry at lunch time, drop in at the hostel. I'll order boiled eggs and chicken korma for you, ok?'

Surrounded by his laughing fan club, Sunil pushed off.

‘Your class is upstairs, Prem. See you,' said Siva and went away.

Taking pity on the forlom figure in the comer, Prem went up to

I’m Prem. I'm first year Economics too. Come on, let's go up together.

***

Appu

Appuswamy was hardly twelve or thirteen when his father died tragically, hit by an electric train while trying to cross the tracks.

Appu was the oldest, followed by three younger sisters in quick succession.

The company where Appu's father had worked offered a clerical position to his mother Savitri on comionate grounds. Savitri grabbed the offer with both hands, quickly realising that with her meagre qualifications, she would find no better way to her four young children and aged mother-in-law.

Savitri's mother-in-law took care of running the family and caring for the children enabling Savitri to spend the next six months in taking typing and shorthand classes during her spare time and qualify herself for office work. Through her grit and determination, Savitri has risen to her present position as one of the company's senior stenographers and earns a monthly salary close to nine hundred rupees.

She has wisely invested the money from her husband's insurance claim, his provident fund and also the compensation provided by the company for her daughters' marriages. The interest yielded by the investments is also used up in buying sundry jewels for her daughters. As a result, her take home pay of around seven hundred and fifty rupees is all the family has to meet all of their needs. Would this paltry sum be enough to sustain six lives? Did they have an option? Their meals were Spartan, and any delicacies were a luxury they could afford only very rarely. Thankfully, they owned the house they lived in. Besides, all four children were very good at studies and as a result received scholarships to their education. Savitri was at least spared the worry over these expenses. They occupied the smaller portion of the house and let out the larger portion on rent. The rent money was used up to meet the family's annual clothing needs.

They bought them from government run shops, during festival seasons when they were offered at heavy discounts.

Savitri ran a tight ship but she often dreamt of the day when her son, Appu, would grow up and take over the responsibilities of the family from her. Appu had many dreams of his own as well.

He wanted to become a rich man, enjoy a variety of delicious cuisines, own a fleet of cars, fly across the world in an aeroplane, Wear fancy clothes, and order about a host of servants. He had many more such dreams.

For all of this to come true, he would have to find a well paid job first. Appu was clear that for this to happen he would have to excel at studies. He spent all his time poring over his books and almost always stood first in class.

Yet, as he was about to cross the threshold of college for the first time today, Appu was full of fears and insecurities.

First, of course, was the fact that he was poor.

Secondly, although he was extremely intelligent, he was unable to converse fluently in English, having studied in a Tamil medium school. All he wanted was to become a rich man soon, wear trendy clothes just like the others, stylishly smoke cigarettes and converse fluently in English just like the others. He wanted all of this to happen at the earliest!

Chapter 3

"What's that in your hand? What novel is it?"

"Oh no, not a novel. Indian Economics."

Prem made a face

"Tridian Economics? For heaven's sake! But why today? The very first day of college. Are you crazy?"

"A second year fellow I know gave it to me saying he found it extremely useful." "So? You didn't have to bring it on the first day."

"I had to. He told me I had to return it in 10 days, so I thought I'd go through it whenever I found time. What book is that?' Appu asked.

"Sidney Sheldon."

Do we have him in the syllabus?

‘Prem stood stock-still and stared at Appu. Was this yokel trying to pull his leg?

Never heard of Sheldon?'

"No..."

'You've never read any of his books?'

No...

Nor seen any of the movies?

"I don't understand. He's such a famous author, known the world over. And you tell me you've never heard of him."

Appu was terribly embarrassed. Imagine! Such a famous author and he had never heard of him. What kind of ignoramus was he that he had grown up without knowing something as obvious? He was mad at himself and the circumstances of his life which had made him so.

"By the way, which school are you from?"

Appu told him.

Tamil medium, eh?

Appu was so ashamed he couldn't answer.

"Tamil medium! No wonder you don't know anything. Anything Worthwhile, I mean."

Appu's ears slowly turned red at the slight he detected in Prem's fone.

He looked up quickly.

"But I came first in school."

‘Really? That's very good, Appu.'

This open-hearted generous praise somewhat soothed his wounded pride.

I've always been first in all my classes. I wanted to be first in the state too so I worked very hard, but I could make it only to the seventh rank.

"Seventh in the State! My God! That's quite something. You must be brilliant"

Appu's back straightened a little more. Prem's praise made him forget for a moment his shabby clothes and the dejection which had descended on him a few minutes ago.

Do you know. Appu, you are just the opposite of me? The only way I managed to get in here was through the hefty donations my father gave this place.

'Prem's innocence left Appu bewildered. He was not the kind of person who thought, I'm rich, and he's poor'. Appu was touched. Not really the type to say, 'Tamil medium?' and then make a face.

Appu smiled.

What's so amusing?

Nothing. I was just thinking if I have one kind of a problem, you have another.

"Don't get you."

‘I wanted to do Engineering. With 84 percent and having stood first in my class, I thought there would be no problem. But I was not fortunate enough to get a seat as I belonged to the so-called forward community. I thought I'd be able to do B Com at least. But the going rate for a seat for B Com was three to five thousand rupees. Who cares about merit? That I stood first in school and seventh in the state just didn't matter. You think every college was waiting for me with

open arms?'

"Sorry, Appu, I didn't know. I feel sick hearing this. I'm really sorry, yaar. Here I am, being forced to pursue a college degree much against my inclination, and you who want so desperately to do Engineering but not able to. I get what I don't want and you don't get what you want. It's a crazy world. What are you going to do after you graduate?"

"Since I know I'm not going to get what I want, I'll learn to be happy with what I get. That's the only way a lower middle class person like me can survive. I'll try for an MBA and write the exam."

'Wow! What long-term planning! Fantastic! I am glad I found such a bright guy for a friend. I don't have to worry about lectures and notes when you are here. You will help, won't you?'

Sure, why not? That's the least I can do. You don't know how much I dreaded the first day of college. I was terrified at my being from a Tamil medium school would be made the butt of ragging, that others would laugh at the way I spoke English... or didn't speak it. I'm glad I found a friend like you who doesn't care a hoot about these things. Thanks a lot.

They reached their class. Appu walked straight towards the first row when Prem put his arm out and stopped him.

'Let's go to the back row.'

But we'll never be able to hear the lecturer properly there. Only if we sit in the front row we can.'

"Ok, then you go. No bench can be far enough at the back for me. See you later. Prem went to the last row and sat down.

"Hi, said the boy sitting next to him."

'Hello,’

I’m Bharat.

"I'm Prem."

The lecturer came in and took attendance. Each student introduced himself or herself. The lecturer talked to them about the college in general, what they expected of the students and what he expected of them. By the time all this was over, it was time for break.

Stretching himself with a big yawn, Prem heaved himself rather lazily out of his seat and on to his feet.

"Lunch, Bharat?"

"Canteen, where else? What about you"

"Me too. Do you know where it is?"

'Don't have to. Just follow the largest crowd. That's where they'll be heading.'

They walked up to Appu. He was all alone. The others just waited for the bell to ring and disappeared.

"Bharat... Appu. A brilliant student-a school topper and seventh in the state. Appu, this is Bharat."

'Hi.!’

Hello.

'We're going to have lunch. Come along’

'No thanks. Go ahead.'

'Hey, come on. The seniors ate your food. What are you going to eat?'

Appu's silence told Prem the whole story. 'Come on, yaar, come with us. We are going to the canteen.’

"No, thanks, Prem. I don't feel hungry."

'Oh, come on, don't fuss. If you are not hungry, just come and stand there.’

Dragging him out of his seat, they pulled him along. Appu went with them very reluctantly, while they ed the hungry mob that headed towards the canteen.

'Got ragged a lot?

‘They made me touch the feet of the seniors sitting on the compound wall. I felt bad then, but now coming to think of it, it was not as bad as I had thought it would be. What about you?'

They told me to take off my shirt and run around the campus.

"And you did?"

"Of course. There was no choice.'

The canteen was terribly crowded. As they were hungry, they didn't mind ing

the serpentine queue. As soon as they stopped, Bharat took out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket almost as a reflex.

"Smoke?"

Appu refused, but Prem accepted.

"How many a day?"

"Two or three. Maximum four."

"That's reasonable. I have already crossed ten.'

‘Ten? And nobody objects at home?'

‘What you don't know can't hurt you. Haven't you heard that? They don't know.'

"But how do you manage to keep them in the dark? Even with the one or two I smoke, I have to chew a mouth freshener so that my breath doesn't give me away. Ten... that's tough to conceal."

Bharat stared at Prem.

"I presume you live with your parents?"

Of course.

No wonder.'

"Why, do you stay in the hostel?"

"Oh no, no such luck. I live with my grandparents. They live on the ground floor and I live upstairs. They don't come up, and I don't go down when I can avoid it. They don't give a damn. Their whole life is spent grumbling about other people. Life for them is just one long complaint You'd think for a moment that they'd bother about what their grandson is doing, how he fares in studies... his friends, his hobbies... whether he's happy... They don't give a shit. In that kind of 'home' I can smoke 10 a day or 20 if I desire."

What kind of people were his grandparents that Bharat should Spew out such bitterness!

The outburst left both Appu and Prem speechless. Quickly, they stole a look at each other. As they had just met him, they didn't want to ask any questions and probe the despair behind the outburst.

Casually, they let their eyes wander to the rest of the jostling crowd. The early birds were already half way through their ice-cream cones. The very hungry

ones had masala dosas and crisp undas. Plates of puri alu stood with the channa blaturas. Above all, talk and talk, in a dozen ear-shattering languages.

***

Bharat

Bharat is an eighteen year old brimming with bitterness.

Bharat's father is an engineer. He married Nalini much against his family's wishes. After four years of marriage, she left him and two and a half year old Bharat for another man.

In the years that followed, Bharat's life was a mesh of confusion and anger.

He fretted over the absence of his mother, wondered why his family was not 'normal', and why his father became so incensed at the very mention of his mother. When he was seven years old, his father gave up his struggle and sought the of his parents, pleading with them to forgive him for having gone against their wishes and married the wrong woman. His parents magnanimously forgave and accepted him and Bharat back into the family fold.

What followed was yet another unfathomable experience for Bharat.

He could not comprehend why his grandparents, so loving to their other

grandchildren, turned their backs on him.

They spurned him and called him names, accusing him of being like his wayward mother.

They rued their son Easwar's wrecked life and wondered why Bharat's mother couldn't have taken her son with her when she eloped.

They did not spare a thought about the impact of their harsh words on a young mind.

Initially Bharat could not understand why they behaved the way they did. Once he did, bitterness started welling up within him.

He came to be filled with rage every time he thought of his mother, started distancing himself from a father who couldn't care less and stopped connecting with his grandparents and other family .

He would tolerate them only until he grew up and created a life for himself, for until then he needed their roof over his head, and also sustenance and money for his expenses,

Then, he could bid them all a final goodbye. Until then, he would have to grin and bear it, all by himself, an island on his own.

Chapter 4

One, two, three, four-the yawns kept coming. According to science, they were caused by lack of oxygen. So he took a deep breath. But halfway through, the expelled breath turned into another yawn. He stifled it, and with his hand covering his gaping mouth, took in one more prodigious breath of fresh air. Bharat, sitting next to him, smiled and whispered.

Bored?

‘Terribly. This man can even cure insomniacs.'

'Let's call him Calmpose.'

'Perfect'

Their laughter was carefully subdued. What's the score? Switch on your radio, but keep the volume low. Let's listen. Bharat extracted a tiny transistor radio from his pocket and switched it on.

"130 for two.'

'Who's out? Is Gavaskar still at the crease?'

If you'll just keep quiet for a few seconds, we can listen to the commentary. Then perhaps we can find out who's in and who's out.'

‘It's great to hear the commentary when Kapil plays. Worse luck that we are stuck here instead of watching TV at home.'

"Will you keep quiet?'

Bharat's exasperated voice was pitched just a little too high for his own good. The lecturer stopped in mid-sentence and the class froze into silence.

"Last bench... what's the racket going on over there?"

Bharat switched off the transistor.

"I'm waiting for an answer. I've been watching you. You've been disturbing the class with your talk."

There was no response from the back benchers. This sullen disregard infuriated the lecturer.

"Hey get up. I'm talking to you. You are not deaf, I presume."

"Prem reluctantly got to his feet. But his jaws continued to masticate. "What are you doing?"

‘Nothing, Sir.'

What do you mean nothing? Explain what I just told the class." Naturally, Prem could not

"If you have been attentive, what's the problem in explaining it now?"

"…………"

Next. What's your name? Get up.

Bharat, Sir.

Ok Bharat, tell me. What was I saying?

Bharat stared blankly. The lecturer walked up to them, lifted the books on the table and removed the radio.

"So? This is what you were up to. Commentary, eh?"

"………….."

'If you don't want to study, why on earth do you fellows come to college and make our lives miserable? If your fathers have so much money, why don't you stay at home and listen to the commentary or watch the game on TV? You goodfor-nothings come here and spoil the rest. It's disgusting. You are not even fit to run a paan shop. What a waste of precious seats!

The poor man thought this tongue lashing would at least elicit a ‘Sorry, Sir!' He stood waiting for a few seconds, but it was of no use.

"Get out! I don't want either of you in my class. At least the good students won't have to stand your nonsense. Get out!"

Prem looked at Bharat... Bharat looked at Prem. Simultaneously, with a common feeling of relief that they had escaped so easily with just a tongue lashing, they picked up their books and without a backward glance at the lecturer, they walked out, along the corridor and down the steps.

"The least he could have done after asking us to go was to return my radio. At least we could have sat under the trees and enjoyed the game."

Prem laughed.

"Be thankful for small mercies. He could have easily reported us to Princie."

"Forget it. I'm hungry. Let's go to the canteen and have a samosa."

"They were heading to the canteen, when Bharat suddenly stopped.

"It's my birthday today, Prem" he said.

Prem couldn't believe his ears.

"Really? Many happy returns of the day! What do you mean by letting it drop so casually? If you had let me known earlier, we could have planned something special."

"To hell with it!"

"Hell with what? Don't you usually celebrate your birthday?"

"Never. Who cares? And there's no one to celebrate it with either. And you?"

"My God! My birthday drives the whole house into an uproar. Appz, Amma,

Sandhya-each one gives me a present. They come early in the morning, wake me up, greet me and give me a present. I take all my friends to a movie and later I treat them at some hotel."

"………."

‘Then...'

Suddenly it struck Prem that he was hardly the soul of tact. Bharat might be hurt by his enthusiasm. He broke off and said I'm sorry, yaar. Don't think there's no one to celebrate your birthday. Come, let's first go to the canteen and have a sweet. Then cut classes and take in a matinee. After that an ice-cream at Kwality. How does that sound?'

His friend's eagerness to celebrate touched Bharat. A last pull on his cigarette, and he stamped it out with his shoe. Friends like you are what friends should be like. What's the time? Twelve? Ok. Let's go to the canteen first and have a sweet. After that I'll go home, pick up some dough and then decide about the afternoon programme.

"Home? But won't your grandfather and grandmother ask you why you cut classes and what you are doing at home in the middle of the day?"

They are not the types to worry for such things and if they do ask, I'll tell them some Professor kicked the bucket and so college was dosed. They'll believe anything. Come on, let's go.

'Suddenly Bharat halted. 'Let's ask Appu to come with us, Prem. Foor fellow, he doesn't go anywhere.

‘Appu? Cutting classes to see a movie? Not likely.'

"Forget it then. We'll come back and pick him up on our way to the ice-cream parlour."

"Good idea. But how will you let him know?"

"Well, let's leave a note in the canteen."

Sunil and Hari were sitting under the banyan tree, sprawled on their backs. Totally relaxed, apparently without a care in the world, without the slightest guilt for being here under the tree while classes were going on inside. Tapping their toes to the music from the radio. They didn't hear Prem's ‘Hi'.

'Hi,' said Prem, once more.

'Who? Oh, Hi, Prem. Cutting classes, eh?'

"Not guilty, Sunil. Sir Calmpose was the one who sent us out."

‘Who's that? Haven't heard of that name before.'

"That's the nickname for our Economics Sir... like it?"

'Not bad at all. I like it. You've turned out smarter than I thought. Who's the friend?’

"Bharat... same class."

"Hi!" said Sunil.

'It's 10 days since college reopened. How comel haven't seen him before?'

"Just bad luck, I suppose. Anyway, don't worry. You've seen me now, haven't you?' Bharat cut in sharply.

Sunil found this hilarious.

"How come you're here? Canteen, eh?"

Yup. It's Bharat's birthday today, Sunil.'

'Oh, wow! Many happy returns. What about something sweet?'

'That's where we are heading. us.'

"Ok, but on one condition. After you treat us at the canteen, you must come to my room. I've got a special treat for you. Agreed?"

They had sweets, a savoury and coffee at the canteen. The mood was festive and the banter light. This was the only birthday Bharat had ever really celebrated. In this cheerful mood, they totally forgot to leave a note for Appu.

Sunil was on the second floor. A cool breeze welcomed them. The room was filled to overflowing. Everything had a foreign labelAkai stereo, Sony tapes, Bose speakers. The wall was filled with posters.

"Sit, yaar. You too, Bharat."

They sat on the carpeted floor, leantagainst the fat cushions. Sunil pulled out a bottle from the tiny refrigerator that stood in a corner. Champagne... Bharat and Prem sat stunned. Was this how the other half of the world lived? And they thought they were well-todo. Sunil laughed.

You're a lucky guy, Bharat. I bought it yesterday for Rs. 450 and kept it chilled, waiting for a special occasion, and today the occasion is 'you'!’

"No, Sunil, not today."

Sunil glanced sharply at Bharat.

"Why? Don't you drink?"

"Well, no. It's only that such expensive stuff..."

Today I'm rich, I have it. So I share with you. Tomorrow, if you have it, I'm sure you'll do the same for me. Won't you?

"OK"

One plop and the cork leapt across the room. It seemed champagne ouldn't wait to flow out of the bottle. Glasses were filled. 'Cheers' and everyone sipped. Good stuff. It roller-coasted down their throats, tangy, cold.

Care for some grass?' Sunil asked, leaning against the wall, champagne in one hand and legs outstretched.

Prem looked up, shocked.

‘You mean grass, or marijuana, Sunil?'

Same thing. But why does that scare you so much?

‘Aren't drugs dangerous?’

"Who says so? I see you smoking a cigarette. Isn't that dangerous too?"

‘But cigarettes are not harmful in the way drugs are.'

'No way. I've been smoking grass for four years now, more than 10 ts every day. What's wrong with me? Hari smokes too. What happened to him? In fact, if you ask me, it's only after we started on grass that we are relaxed, at peace, without a care in the world. If you don't believe what grass can do for you, try it. You'll soon understand what I mean.’

Prem looked at Bharat.

Bharat looked at Sunil. The world is not going to end just because I try it once, he thought. He took one cigarette from Sunil.

If Bharat is game, so am I, thought Prem, and put out his hand too.

***

Ganja – 1

Ganja, as it is popularly known in Tamil, goes by many other names like grass, pot, weed and marijuana. It is the product of a plant bearing the scientific name Cannabis Sation, commonly grown in many parts of the world. It is said to contain as many as 400 different types of chemicals; Tetra Hydro Cannabinol, the most important of them is THC.

Grass has the ability to alter the state of mind of a person. This is why smoking cigarettes containing grass automatically leads to a change in the state of mind and thought process of a person.

All parts of the ganja plant, apart from the root, have been used as intoxicants for many years now.

It is the dried and powdered leaves that are commonly referred to as grass. They are sold in small packets for as less as a rupee or two and can well be mistaken for a packet of henna leaves on of their appearance.

When the ganja plants start flowering, the aroma fills the entire area where the plants are cultivated. The yellow nectar that these flowers contain is said to be highly intoxicating. Arab sheikhs, even today, adopt a rather peculiar method to collect this nectar. Once the flowers are in full bloomand have started yielding nectar, around a dozen little boys are asked to run naked through the fields. They are then assembled in a place and the nectar that has stuck to their bodies is scraped off. They are then collected in moulds that measure 4"x6" X!" in size and dried. The seal of the respective sheikh is then affixed on them before they are sent to the market for sale. This is particularly good for use in the hookal.

(Those who find all of this hard to believe can cross-refer with Prof Chandrasekaran, the Director of the Forensic Department).

The word assassin is said to have been derived from the word Puashish. It is believed that in the olden days, a man sent on a mission to kill another was fed with hashish to kindle his murderous instincts.

Chapter 5

What a letdown!

The things he had heard about what grass could do! With the very first puff, he expected butterflies to hover around his head and to grow wings on his feet so that he could take off and fly. Not like the gentle butterflies but high, high with the birds. Music to fill his heart. A paradise like experience.

But what a letdown! No butterflies hovered, no birds flew and the only music he heard was the Bob Dylan from the Akai. Let's try it once more, he thought, and took a long, gentle puff. He let the smoke whirl gently round inside his mouth and with a long sigh, gradually let it out. Now, perhaps? A vision of the Garden of Eden? No, nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Prem looked at Bharat. Bharat had closed his eyes. Two or three quick puffs and his fingers seemed to have acquired a life of their own. Maybe his experience was different?

"Hey, how do you feel?"

Prem turned to see the questioner.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Feels like an ordinary smoke. That's all

'What about you, Bharat?'

Bharat opened his eyes.

His eyes had turned the colour of a summer sunset. He rubbed his eyes hard, took a last puff before putting itout on the floor. Drawing his knees up, he buried his head between them.

Are you ok, Bharat?

"Feeling giddy."

"Don't worry. That's natural. The first time some feel giddy, others nauseous. The next time will be a totally different experience, I promise you."

Suddenly Bharat was flat on the floor, unable to sit up. Prem was scared stiff.

‘Sunil, what's this?'

"Hey, cool it. Don't worry. It was the same with me the first time. He shouldn't have taken such hurried puffs, Don't look so worried. Hey, relax. Look up. See how beautiful the sky is. Isn't that a heavenly blue? Hey, Hari, let's play Michael Jackson. Prem, you must have heard Jackson hundreds of times before. But

listen to him now. It's a whole new experience. Just listen to this. It will light up your life."

Prem looked up. He tried to shut out the outside world and give all his attention to Michael Jackson. Where was the out of this world experience which Sunil had promised? Nothing, not a single blessed thing.

Disgusted with his experience, he asked Sunil for another cigarette. Sunil was reluctant. He glanced at Bharat, lost to the world, flat on the floor. 'Do you really want another, Prem?

"Well, nothing's happened so far. Where is the wonderful experience you talked so much about? If the first won't do it, perhaps the second will. If I can have one, why not another?'"

Sunil shook his head.

‘It's not a question of why you can't have another. How do you feel? That's more important. Giddy? Faint?'

"Not a thing. I feel fine. In fact, there's no kick at all."

'Go ahead then. Try another.'

Prem lighted up his second cigarette.

'Don't be in a hurry. Take your time. Slowly... slowly. Relax. Listen to the music. Look at the posters. Take a slow puff and let it out slowly. That's it. Relax.’

It was on the third puff that Prem felt his body as light as cotton wool. While he was staring at the poster, the orange flowers turned into the brightest most dazzling gold.

Oh!

He'd never seen quite such a colour. And as the flowers turned gold, the leaves turned green...greener. What an incredible emerald green! Oh! My God!

Prem was in a trance. What a fantastic green! Deep, dark, shining, beautiful. Golden yellow and velvet green. Colours to touch, to feel. But he was afraid that the slightest movement would shatter the picture. And so he sat rocklike, immobile.

In his heightened senses, the speakers seemed to come alive. What was till then a distant melody came nearer and nearer and crawled into the tingling-ends of his skin. Did the music have a form? A form that could be touched and felt? God. What kind of magic was this? He wanted to share his joy with the world.

Sunil, I can see the music. I can touch this song. I can really see it. Do you believe me?

Sunil touched him with concern.

"Sure. Of course I believe you. We've all experienced it. You're a damn lucky guy, Prem. It took us many trips to discover what you have felt the very first time. You lucky bastard!"

Prem was thrilled as though he had climbed Mt Everest all by himself and was standing on the peak. This is great. But look at poor Bharat, dead to the world, unable to share the happiness. I feel damn sorry for him.

He wanted to climb down, wake up his friend and tell him, 'Forget the giddiness. Get up, take a couple of puffs now and see the whole new world that opens up.’

He was only halfway through his cigarette, but he felt he didn't need any more. He flicked the burning cigarette into a corner. The room smeltof grass.

'Let's make a whole new world!'

But I have a new world I made all by myself. With a little help from those burning embers. A world full of light, and colour and sound.

He burst into laughter. He wanted to hug them all. Sunil, Hari, Bharat, the posters, Michael Jackson's song. The chairs, the tables. He wanted to hug them all and cry 'I love you all.’

He felt that his cotton wool body would float away on the breeze any moment. The lecturer materialized in front of him. 'Good for nothing! Fit for nothing! he recalled him saying. He was mad at him for abusing them in front of the whole class. But a few seconds later he thought, poor soul. What can he do? I forgive him. I really don't care. And as though the whole thing had happened to Somebody else and not to him, he shrugged it off.

Was this what Sunil meant when he said, 'Just smoke grass and see how relaxed, how carefree you feel.

The past, the present and the future all merged into this one moment. This is that, and that is this, he philosophised. So why worry over anything and everything? Let's be calm, peaceful.

"Don't worry about Bharat."

Sunil's voice seemed to come from another world. I'll look after him. You can go home if you want.

It was 7:30 when Prem reached home.

He went straight to his room, washed his face, changed his clothes and wandered into the kitchen looking for the cook. He helped himself to a couple of gulab jamuns, when Revathi walked in.

Just back from college?'

Mm.

'Didn't your father tell you that grandfather was not feeling well, that we would all go together to see him? In spite of that, you've come so late?'

Prem gave a faint smile.

"Sorry, Ma. I forgot."

‘How can you forget, Prem, after your father specially told you?'

"……………"

Your father told Sandhya too. She didn't forget. She came back on time. You are just irresponsible. You only know how to get annoyed when somebody says Sandhya is a good girl, prompt, responsible.

'Don't compare me with Sandhya!' He would have usually retorted. His father continued where his mother left and Sandhya finished the lecture. But there was not a peep out of Prem or did he lose his temper. Was this the wonderful result of having smoked ganja that afternoon? I must ask Sunil tomorrow, thought Prem, and marched deliberately upstairs.

***

Ganja - 2

A discussion with psychologist Dr Devar yielded more information on ganja's special properties.

A feeling of elation assails a ganja smoker first. The smoker feels extremely light in body and mind, almost as if he or she were floating

Follows a feeling of time coming to a standstill; past, present and future all seem to merge into one. Most ganja smokers have experienced this feeling of the past and the future appearing to be a merry jig.

The next stage would be synaesthesia.

It is a situation where one sense takes over the functions of another. For example, the eye says that it can see the music! There have been instances of any number of addicts claiming that they can see the music! It is this very property that makes ganja so popular amongst performing artistes and art lovers. A whole bunch of people are willing to swear that smoking ganja heightens the visual and aural pleasure at concerts, museums, art galleries and art festivals!

While ganja is being smoked, it emits a fragrance that fades away very soon. Reddening of the eyes and dilation of the pupils are the only mild outward symptoms. As there are no other telltale signs, when ganja smokers are on a

high, others do not notice any obvious change. This is why many parents fail to detect that their children have got into a dangerous habit.

Ganja smokers often feel the need to have something sweet immediately. This is because ganja lowers the sugar level in the blood. Doctors on rare occasions prescribe ganja to bring down the sugar levels in their diabetic patients.

While ganja may not lead to physical dependence, it can certainly lead to psychological dependence.

As many as 25% of regular ganja smokers end up with some kind of psychological disorder or mental imbalance.

Chapter 6

Prem locked himself up in the bathroom.

He took out the 'treasure' he had carefully wrapped in his handkerchief. Just a short while ago he had picked up one packet of grass from Sunil. On his way home, he also bought a packet of cigarettes from the corner shop. To make sure that no incriminating evidence was visible to his mother's eagle eye, he hid them in the handkerchief and pushed them deep into his tro pockets. Safe now in the privacy of his bathroom, he carefully extracted the packet.

He sat on the floor, cross-legged. Spread out the newspaper and thoughtfully spaced out the goodies. Taking out one cigarette at a time, he very carefully rolled it with his fingers, letting the tobacco dust fall on the paper till all 10 cigarettes were emptied. He pushed them all to one side. Then, he took out the packet which he had bought from Sunil at Rs 2 a packet. He mixed the two-dried green leaves and tobacco dust and sucked (stuffed) the rolls with the mixture. A little at a time, because after a small amount was sucked in, it had to be tightly packed. One more suck, pack, suck and pack...

To the rest it was just another ordinary cigarette, but Prem alone knew it was a t stuffed with his preparation. I can survive two more days on this, he thought idly content. 'Two days of peace, goodwill and escape from this dreary world.'

The whole thing had taken him just 10 minutes and 10 seconds. "Not bad, not bad at all. Even if I say so myself.'Sunil had told him it had taken him almost six

months to be this efficient.

And me? I began at the end of June. It's September now. Three months. Not bad at all. I must tell Sunil, first thing tomorrow. Bharat's rate of working was still quite bad. Only yesterday he was grumbling that he had to sit up every night for 15 minutes rolling his ts.

Prem felt proud of himself. He knew that Sunil too would feel so about him. With these pleasant thoughts, he took out one of his efficiently prepared ts, lighted up and inhaled deeply.

"Mmm..."

These days, even the first puff was able to transport him into a world of music and song which he alone could hear. Yehudi Menuhin played the violin for him. Shakti ed him to make it more melodious. There was no need for a deck or amplifier, for cassettes or tapes. Prem was able to conjure up a whole orchestraan orchestra just for him. A t and a matchstick was all that was needed to light up this other world. It soothed his mind, ruffled turbulent waves of emotion, neutralised harsh words and saved him from being wounded by sharp tongues. Made the world a wonderful place to live in-calm, peaceful and...

"Prem..."

"…………."

"Prem..."

Someone's voice from somewhere, called him.

It was Sandhya rapping on the bathroom door. 'What?' Prem asked vaguely.

'What are you doing in there?

'Why, what does a person do in a bathroom?'

'Enough of that smart talk Come out fast. Appa's brother has come from the village. Amma wants you to come down. At once.'

"Tell her I'm having a bath."

He held his breath for a minute. Sure that she must have left, he took a deep long drag and flushed the filter tip and the burnt match stick down the closet.

The cigarettes and the box of matches were stored right on top, out of reach. All traces of the materials used for preparing the ts were carefullollected and thrown out of the window.

He washed his face and hands with the sandalwood soap, leaving the pleasant

fragrance to waft all over the bathroom and linger on himself too. Pouring a few drops of Listerine into some water, he rinsed his mouth to make sure no trace of grass was left. He blew hard on his palms and smeltit. Good! Only the smell of Listerine battled rather hopelessly with the fragrance of sandalwood. One last glance around and Prem came out.

Taking yesterday's jeans off the doorknob and a new shirt from the cupboard, he got ready to meet his uncle. He combed his hair neatly to escape his mother's scowl. Prem came down, books in hand.

His uncle with a looming appearance lay stretched negligently on the sofa. His younger brother, sister-in-law and niece were all in attention.

'Hello, Prem. How are you? You've lost weight in the last six months.’

Prem wondered whether he was supposed to say anything, and if so what.

'Come and sit next to me!' his uncle said.

Prem sat down. He could sense his parents' tension. They wanted Prem to make a good impression on his uncle. Prem smiled.

'What's so amusing?'

Nothing, Uncle.

"How's college?"

'Fun.’

"Are you doing well? You are Madhavan's only son. You must study hard and succeed just like him. Only then will we all be proud of you."

"…………."

'Why have you grown so thin? Don't you eat well?'

"No, no, nothing like that, Uncle."

Madhavan cut in

‘Don't bluff, Prem. You don't eat properly these days. Only Yesterday your mother was complaining about it. Ever since you ed college, you haven't had regular meals.'

'Is this true, Prem? Only if you eat well, will you be strong and healthy. You're still playing tennis, I hope.’

"Hmm. Tennis. He just has time to go to college and back. As far as I know, it's more than two months since he's touched his racket."

What a pity, Prem. I thought you would become a state champion like your cousins. So what if you go to college? As though you can't play in the evenings. Where there's a will, there's a way. If you really want to play, you can always find the time. Suresh never missed a day even during his medical finals. And Sudhakar? There was no swimming championship at IIT in which he didn't take part.

Prem reconciled himself to a long monologue from his uncle. Once his uncle started talking about his sons, time meant nothing to him. He went on and on. Prem let his eyes and mind drift out of the window into the garden. The tender green of the mango leaves, the deep blue sky visible in patches between them. Nature at her very best.

Music from someone's radio, far away, entered his soul through every pore in his body. The lyrics entranced him. Indian music too was pretty good. Sometimes.

‘Prem...'

His mother's call jerked him out of his trance.

"Where are you, Prem? Uncle has been talking to you. And you don't even bother to answer."

Prem smiled apologetically. It's getting late, I have to leave.

'So early? It's only half-past eight.'

He walked into the dining room. His mother followed him. 'Subbu, bring Prem some idlis.

‘Amma, please. I don't want idlis. Just coffee.'

'Why not?’

'I'm not hungry.’

'Why aren't you hungry? You didn't eat properly last night either. You just had a couple of chapattis.

‘………….’

Revathi's eyebrows arched in anger. 'Didn't you hear what your uncle said? You don't eat properly. If I tell you you've lost weight, you tell me 'All mothers say that'. What's happened to you?'

"Nothing, Amma. Please don't start. Please."

‘You've learnt to answer back. Sit down. You can leave only if you eat two idlis at least.'

'Amma, please.’

Sit down, Prem. Don't make me more angry. You don't look like a growing boy. Every day I see your cheeks suink in. If you carry on like this, I'll take you for a thorough check-up.

'She started serving him. Suddenly she ed and burst Out.’

‘By the way, you've been shutting yourself in the bathroom very often these days. What is the matter?'

Prem choked on the piece of idli in his mouth. His face went purple Slapping himself on his head, he swallowed a big gulp of cold water from the bottle.’

‘Revathi's voice softened. 'Are you not feeling well, Prem?'

'Er, no... constipation.'

‘Since when?'

A few days.

‘Revathi rumpled Prem's hair. 'Why didn't you tell any of us? I have to poke and pry to find out what's wrong. From tomorrow I'll make greens for you everyday. Have lots of fruit. With a proper diet you won't have any problem. Ok?'

Prem kept nodding to everything she said. In a few minutes, he was able to break away from her and leave for college. No longer was he irritated with anyone in the house. No more bitterness at the constant lecturing. For the last three months, he had been at peace with himself and the world around. He wanted it to continue this way.

As soon as he reached college, he helped himself to another t. He wanted to share his new-found happiness. So he pressed Appu who accompanied them everywhere. But he was steadfast in his "No, no. No thanks. Not for me. Prem's pressure increased. You have a hundred and one problems at home, Appu. Just try one. Your worries will be lifted vanish with the breeze. Just try it once. And after that if you don't want to, I won't force you. No, I won't ever ask you again. Don't be a coward. Don't be afraid to try new things. Stand tall, be a man.’

Appu was unable to withstand the constant goading of his best friend day after day. So, that morning, for the first time, he took one of Prem's carefully prepared 'tokes'.

***

Ganja -3

The immediate effects of smoking ganja are increased heartbeat and pulse rate, reddening of the eyes and drying up of the throat. Yet, these symptoms fade away soon enough, the time span varying from one person to another, and are replaced by a feeling of weightlessness, a dulling of the senses and loss of emotions. In effect, the smoker is in a state of 'ecstasy' for the next five to six hours.

Once the effect has wom out, the mind does not want to face up to reality once again. It longs for that same ecstatic state. Smoking yet another ganja cigarette becomes unavoidable as a result.

It is a vicious circle to which there is no end!

With the age of time, the mind is pushed to a state where it is unwilling to face up to and accept reality, and the need for ganja becomes frequent or even permanent.

In the initial phase, everything seems hunky dory but as time es by, ganja starts dominating the and reduces interest in all else, frequently stimulating a desire to experiment with stronger drugs.

People who have excelled in various fields like academics and sports and have enjoyed a healthy appetite for food, sleep and sex, suddenly find themselves losing interest in all of it and becoming withdrawn and introverted.

They reach to a state when they lack interest in everything and become lethargic.

Hallucination—a paranoid state is the next stage when the person starts experiencing unwanted and imaginary fears. Apart from all this, another state of mind propels the to try even more deadly drugs that one can never give up, in a quest for increased intoxication.

The reasons why people take to smoking, drinking or drugs are many but the following are the most common.

a) For the sheer pleasure of it (how Sunil began).

b) Unable to contain their curiosity over drugs (how Prem and Bharat started out).

Coerced into it by peers (Appu would probably be the best example).

Chapter 7

Heard the news?'

Bharat must have run up the stairs two at a time. His chest heaved painfully. The words came in short gasps.

'What news?'

'Sunil is going home.'

'When? Why?'

Today, back to Kotagiri.

"Don't drop bombshells like that so casually, yaar."

"He got an STD call from his father half an hour ago. His mother is very sick. His father wants him to come immediately. So he's going."

"Who told you?"

"Sunil himself. As soon as I entered the campus, I met him. I have news for you, he said. And I came running here to tell you."

Prem walked towards the veranda, deep in thought. Bharat followed him.

'Has he told you how long he's going to be away?'

"How will he know it now? It will all depend on how sick his mother is. Probably, he'll know once he goes there.'

'Do you realise why I am asking all these questions?'

Naturally. Packets?

Prem nodded.

'Even before I thought of poor Sunil's mother, I had the same worry. Sunil has been supplying us all with the packets these last few months. If he goes away suddenly, what are we going to do?’

The question had to remain rhetorical. For the present, at least. Prem nibbled at

his nails in vexation. Not that there was much to nibble. They were already bitten to the quick.

The bell rang for the first period. 'I'm not going to class today. I'm going to see Sunil. Bharat decided.

"I will come with you."

Just as they were leaving, they saw Appu. He looked as though he had just come out of a shower. He was completely drenched with sweat. He looked tired, woebegone.

"How come both of you are going in the opposite direction after the bell has rung? No classes, eh?"

"To see Sunil. By the way, Appu, how come you're so late today?"

Appu dared not say anything lest his trembling voice give him away. He turned away so that his friends would not see the worry in his eyes.

"Appu, what happened?"

'Nothing.'

'Go to class. We'll come later.'

I'll come with you, Appu said hesitantly.

Bharat and Prem weren't sure if they heard him right. Were their ears playing tricks? Did Appu really say he was not going to attend class? They said nothing. Something must be really wrong if Appu of all people was ready to bunk. They walked away.

Sunil was in his room. An overflowing box, clothes scattered all over the room, a t between his fingers.

How come the gang is visiting during class time? No classes, eh?

'We decided to skip.'

‘You're going too far, you know.'

'Going home, Sunil?’

‘Yeah.'

'When will come back?’

'Don't know. If my mother's not too sick, probably a week, otherwise, God knows.'

Prem came straight to the point.

'We were wondering how we'd manage if you went away. The packets, I mean.'

Sunil laughed.

'Oh, so this is the reason for bunking. I thought you were worried about me and my mother. I was wondering, how come all this consideration.’

"Don't laugh, Sunil, this is serious."

"Ok, I won't laugh, tell me what you want me to do."

"Well, till today, you've been supplying us with all we needed. What do we do now?"

‘Is that all? Just go to the corner shop and tell Motiram I sent you.'

Prem interrupted.

"Oh no, not there."

"Why?"

'Too many of the college crowd know my parents. If one of them sees me buying the packets, and tells my father, I'm finished. Only yesterday Siva was asking me...'

Asking you what?

'Why I visit your room so frequently.'

"And you told him?"

Told him you have a superb stereo system and I visit you to hear some fantastic music. He told me to be careful. 'Sunil doesn't have such a hot reputation,' he said.

Sunil laughed.

'Spineless creature. Talking about me behind my back, to my friends. He doesn't

have the guts to try a t even once. No spunk to ask the Prof. even one question in class but talks about me, bastard!’

"Forget it, Sunil. Don't get heated up with his talk. Tell us what to do."

"Mmm, I'm wondering. All you want is a maximum of two or three packets, so I was just thinking whether it is worth making you run all over the place."

"Well...these days two packets are not enough. So perhaps we can get one tola."

Sunil let out a long, sharp whistle.

‘Tola, eh? You've come quite far. How come you use so much?'

"Prem and I smoke about five or six ‘ts!' Appu, two or three." Sunil turned towards Appu.

‘Not bad, Appu boy. Progressing fast! When I first saw you, do you the oil well on your head and the stricken look on your face? And the terror in your eyes? I thought that sheer funk would make you drop out in a week. But look at you now.'

Appu lapped up Sunil's praise.

‘Brought dosa today, Appu?'

Appu shook his head. 'No Sunil, only curd rice. End of the month, You know.'

Prem sympathised with his friend. He knew what it cost him in many ways.

"Appu's a changed person these days, Sunil. He had an omelette yesterday. Did you know?"

Sabash, Appu. You are just learning what life is all about.

'If you've finished singing Appu's praises, let's get back to our problem,' piped up Bharat. 'Where else can we buy our supplies?'

'If you want a tola, let me see. I'd suggest two or three places. If you can't get it at one place, you can get it at another. Do you know Mall Road? It's about two or three miles from the campus?'

They absorbed Sunil's directions. Preferring not to go out of college during class time, they decided they would do it during lunch break. And since they had plenty of time, they sat down and lighted up. No one spoke. The music was on. In silence they relaxed, each in his own world.

At 1 o'clock, Prem said, 'Let's get going. They walked out of the campus.

"Shall we go to Mall Road first or try the Drive-in?"

Prem stood still pondering Bharat's question. He ran his hands reflectively through his hair, smoothed it back, then messed it again. 'No,' he said, 'not Drivein. Sometimes my father drops in there with his friends for lunch. Why risk it? Let's go to Mall Road.'

‘That's a good idea. If we get two or three tolas, we don't have to bother for four or five days at least. By the way, do you have enough cash? Or shall I pick up some from home?'

Prem looked into his wallet. He had asked his mother for some money to buy an Economics textbook. She had run out of change and given him a hundred rupee note. That plus the tenner he already had would be enough to buy the grass. If his mother asked him about the book, he would make up some excuse. Weren't his ts more important than a stupid Economics book? Having got his priorities right, Prem looked up and smiled at his friends. I've got plenty, don't worry."

'Good.'

Bharat turned towards Appu.

'What are your plans? Class, I presume?'

Appu hesitated. It was only now, after so many hours that the hurt inflicted by his family was receding into the background. Far enough that he had even become a little cheerful. If he went back to class now, the nagging pain would return. He had enough of that for one day. I'm coming,' he said. Prem had started to walk. On hearing this they turned abruptly.

There must be something really wrong with Appu today.

Are you ok, Appu? You're not the type to cut classes and loaf around.

I'm upset.

"What happened?"

‘Nothing, forget it. I'm better now. Why bring up something which is ready to be buried?'

Prem shrugged.

‘If you don't want to tell us, forget it. We are going to Mall Road. Want to come?'

‘…….’

Now what?

'I... I don't have any money, Prem...'

'Is that all? Among friends, have one have all. Otherwise, what are friends for? Correct, Bharat?'

"Exactly."

‘Then let's get going without wasting any more time, I don't have any more grass for this afternoon. What about you, Bharat?'

"Only one precious t."

"Oh my God! What will I do for my 4 o'clock smoke? I'll die without it. Come fast. We'll have to locate the guy in Mall Road, get the stuff and prepare the ts. A lot of work to do. And we are wasting time here."

His anxiety communicated itself to the others. They walked briskly towards the bus stop and took the first bus. Their anxiety to get the ts didn't let them even hop buses.

Luck was on their side. Sunil's directions were perfect and they had no problem locating the place. Flush with money, they bought four tolas and hastened to the nearest private spot which happened to be a public toilet. Unmindful of the

leaking tap, the stale stink of urine and excreta, cigarette stubs and general filth, their only aim was to prepare fresh ts as quick as possible. Fingers fluttering, they prepared three ts double quick. They relaxed only after they lighted up and took deep drags. At Bharat's suggestion, they all went back to his place. It was 4.15.

Grandmother, as expected, hardly welcomed them with open arms. "What are you all doing here at this hour of the day?' She asked, her eyes fixed on Bharat.

Bharat of course was prepared for the question. We didn't have our last class today, Grandma, so we all thought we'd get together and do group study.'

Saying so they marched upstairs.

Locking themselves inside, against the improbable eventuality of someone coming up, they set to work, munching the Cadbury's chocolate that Bharat took out from his cupboard. Newspapers were spread out and the ritual began. One tola of grass was opened.

Twenty-five ts were prepared and shared. Ten apiece for Bharat and Prem and five for Appu. Bharat carefully stored the other three packets, deep inside his cupboard.

They had had nothing to eat the whole day. With the euphoria that ganja gave them evaporating, they looked at their watches and found it was 8 o'clock. It was time to go home.

Bharat lighted up his last cigarette for the day. His grandmother asked him half heartedly if he wanted anything to eat. He told her he was not hungry and went to bed.

Prem threw up. He had travelled all over the city in the hot sun on an empty stomach, smoking more than his normal quota of grassthe perfect recipe for a hangover. The giddy spell left him sick and unable to eat. He claimed he was feeling feverish and went to sleep.

For the first time, Appu had smoked four ts a day and skipped a whole day of college. For Appu it was a revenge against his mother who scolded him in the morning and all the others who had wronged him.

Appu's confidence was shattered the minute he entered the house.

"Look at yourself and your face. Where were you all this time? Are you feeling sick? You are becoming impossible these days!"

His mother's worried, flood of sympathetic queries left Appu unmoved. His one aim was to go to a place where he could be alone for a few minutes, salvage the t he had thrust deep into his bag and find his heaven.

***

Appu

The day had certainly started off on the wrong note for poor Appu!

For days now, he had been experiencing a certain longing.

Helonged to be able to smoke grass at will in his own room without any interruptions, just like Bharat and Prem did.

Even if he could not have a room of his own like Prem or an entire floor like Bharat, wasn't he at least entitled to ten minutes of uninterrupted privacy in the toilet?

There was just one bathroom-cum-toilet in his home. Since six people had claim over it, there was no scope for privacy or extra time. Even before he had shut the door, there were people knocking on it and asking him if he was done. He hardly had time for anything more than a quick shower.

He was increasingly fed up with this life.

When would he ever be rid of all this? Why did he have to be born into this poverty ridden family? Why not into a rich home like Prem and Bharat?

He was plagued by a feeling of discontent and longing, and hearing Prem say that smoking a t first thing in the morning made the entire day pleasurable only served to make matters worse. As a result, he had voluntarily taken over the task of collecting milk from the booth early in the morning for the past week.

He woke up sharp at five and rushed out of the house, not paying heed to his mother wondering why he was rushing off so early.

The milk booth was located on the road leading to the right from the corner of his street. He would however take the left that lead to a public park. He would sit under the tree there and enjoy his first t of the day in peace before going to the booth to collect milk.

The routine that had been proceeding smoothly for a week had however gone awry that day!

He had been immersed in his own world too long and by the time he realised that he was running late and sped to the milk booth, the vendor had already given away one of his milk packets to someone else who wanted extra milk.

He had to go back home with just one packet of milk and bear the brunt of his grandmother's mutterings on his inability to accomplish any task successfully, He had taken his anger out on his sister by snapping at her when she asked him to help her out with her lessons. Then, he'd made the mistake of asking his mother for money to go on the college excursion with his classmates, without realising that she was in a bad mood. She'd given vent to heranger by pulling him up mes a given task and for snapping at his sister. She'd asked him to focus on his studies instead of giving into unwanted desires.

First his grandmother and then his mother! They were both so inhuman, so incapable of understanding his needs and wants.

Appu felt wounded by their harsh behaviour. Ganja seemed the only solace, to

soothe his hurt feelings.

Chapter 8

'Prem', Sandhya called out knocking at the door.

There was no reply. Thinking there was no one in the room, she opened the door and peeped in.

Prem was very much there.

Obviously, he hadn't heard her knock. He was lying on the tible with his face down. Sandhya went in gently on tiptoe, presuming he was so tired that he had dropped off while at the table. He had taken off his shirt, and only had his jeans on. Sandhya was shocked to see his rib cage. It reminded her of the famine victims of Ethiopia. His stomach was concave, each rib standing out in sharp relief.

What had Prem done to himself? It had been months since he had had a haircut. His hippie hair-style added to the general impression of degradation. He looked filthy, Tears welled up. Her throat was dry. What had happened to Prem? He had always been full of life, laughter, jokes, and affectionate hugs. An extrovert who loved his family and showed it. Was he annoyed with someone?

She touched his shoulder gently. Prem', she called.

The nearness of her voice startled him awake.

'Oh! It's you! He broke out in a cold sweat. He dabbed at his forehead with clammy hands.

Sandhya shut the door. She came back and plonked herself on the table.

'What's the matter, Prem?'

What?

'Why do you look like the way you do?'

"Why? I just look the way I'm supposed to look. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Don't lie to me, Prem. I've been watching you carefully the last few days. What's wrong?’

"Nothing"

'Tell me, Premn. There's nothing you need to hide from me.'

‘There is nothing to tell, Sandhya.’

"If you don't want to talk to me as your sister, talk to meas a friend. Be frank."

Prem forced himself to smile.

"I keep telling you there's nothing. If you still want me to tell you something, I'll have to make something up. Give me some time and I'll think of something."

Sandhya only half-believed him.

"Honest?"

"Honest."

Neither spoke for a while. Prem quickly ticked off any tell-tale signs which Sandhya might spot. There was nothing.

"Every time I see you, Prem, I worry about you."

‘Why?'

‘There's nothing tangible. Nothing I can put into words. Just a constant nagging worry. You're not the old Prem.'

Prem laughed aloud.

‘Silly. I'm now a college student, not a school going younger brother.'

‘You don't eat properly. You don't come down and talk to us at all, Having problems?'

"Nothing, yaar."

"Did the Prof. tick you off? Are you finding the courses tough? What is it?"

'No.'

"Angry with Appa, Amma or me?"

Oh, come on!

'Then what is it, Prem?'

'Oh, shit. If I tell you there's nothing, you must believe me. He couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice much as he wanted to.’

‘I don't hear you play the guitar any more. You've given up your tennis totally’

‘………’

Sandhya lowered her voice.

'You've started smoking. Am I right?'

Prem looked up sharply.

‘I... no... that... I...'

Sandhya smiled confidentially.

"Relax. Don't get so uptight. I won't rat on you. I haven't told Appa and Amma yet. I'm not planning to. But you must tell the truth."

Prem lowered his eyes. His tongue was parched. He tried to wet his dry lips.

‘Tell me, Prem. You smoke, don't you?'

"Well..."

'It's natural for a teenage boy to be curious. I know. But do you need to before you finish your education and get a job? Have you thought about it?'

"Sorry, Sandhya."

"Sorry is not enough, Prem. I'd like to have action, not word"

Sandhya was grieved to see this pathetic younger brother of hers. She bent down and rumpled his hair.

"Don't feel so bad. It's natural to stray. But come back to the right path. You must realise that what you are doing is wrong. That's most important. Prem, come on. Cheer up. Let's go for a walk. It's been a long time since we went out together."

This little doubt in Sandhya's mind should not be allowed to grow. The best way of killing it would be to go along with her whims. So he put on a shirt and went out for a walk with her.

He was not in a mood to keep up with Sandhya's brisk pace. How much better to spend an evening all alone in his room, with Ravi Shankar's sitar blowing his mind! A stick of grass and none beside him. But now it was Sandhya who was

keeping him company, not thet he craved. But he'd better not let it show.

"Look at that lawn, Prem. Isn't it like a velvet carpet? These people came here only a couple of months back. They've done wonders for the garden.' Prem looked at the house Sandhya was pointing to. An ordinary house, an ordinary garden, an ordinary lawn. What was so special about it?"

When there was no ganja in his blood, there were no colours in his life. There were no heightened perceptions. Everything seemed so dull

I must find out why this is so.

‘Prem!'

"Ah?'

‘I've called you at least four times. Which world are you in that you cannot hear the sounds of this one?'

‘Sorry. I was thinking about something. What is it?'

'I heard that your college has planned an excursion?'

"Yeah, Bangalore, Mysore."

"You have really become impossible, Prem. There was a time when you used to tell me everything. There was nothing you kept from me"

Prem slowed down.

‘What have done now?'

'Even Amma was surprised. 'Don't you know that Prem is going on an excursion?' she asked.

"…………."

"When, and for how many days?"

Next month. After the finals. Ten days at the most, the Prof. said.

'Finals. That reminds me. Are you well prepared?'

‘Mmm'

I see lights on in your room late in the night. I sometimes want to come in. But you always bolt the door from inside. What is this new habit?

Her non-stop questions irritated Prem. He flared up. 'Is it a crime to do what I want in my room? Dol have to take your permission for everything? Or explain each and every action of mine? Its high time all of you realised I'm grown lip. I'm no longer a kid.'

'Till six months ago you were a kid. Now, if you tell us you are a grown up, it's hard for us to adjust to the fact that you have really grown up so much in these six months. Let's have an ice-cream, Prem'

Yuck. Not for me.'

Sandhya couldn't believe her ears or the expression of disguston Prem's face.

"I can't believe this. You used to gobble up two or three ice-creams at a time. I'm surprised! And you want me to believe that you haven't changed. Is this not a change?"

Prem mumbled I've been having a sore throat for the last two days. With exams just round the corner, I didn't want to risk anything

Sandhya was thrilled. She was happy that her little brother took his exams so seriously that he didn't want to run the slightest risk of falling sick

‘Yesterday, Amma told Appa that she was worried about you. You were not eating properly, you hardly spoke to us. So she felt you might be having some problem. But Appa said, 'Nonsense! Ever since Prem has ed college, he's become responsible. He takes his studies seriously, and if he is at his books late into the night you can't expect him to come and prattle during the day." And you know what? I think Appa's assessment was absolutely right. My kid-brother is really growing up.’

Her voice was brimming with pride. The least Prem could do was smile in return.

That night, he ed them for dinner to reinforce the good impression he had created. He told them about his course at college. He kept up his acting for the next few days. Sandhya's suspicions vanished. My poor Prem had some temporary problems, she thought. Thank God that's over.

But old habits die hard. Soon Prem was back to his ts for company.

***

Sandhya

Sandhya had always been the favourite of all her family , universally acclaimed as a 'good' girl. She was naturally intelligent and soft natured as well. There was always a smile on her face and she had a ready answer to every question.

Madhavan's parents lived with their son's family when Sandhya was a little girl. As a result, she enjoyed not just her parents' affection but also the love of her grandparents. Her grandfather had her on his lap and told her stories from epics like the Ramayana and Mahabharata. She was now a modern and intelligent woman of twenty-one, pursuing the first year of her M.A. degree course, and yet she was also respectful of her elders with a strong faith in our culture.

Sandhya was very fond of her brother Prem, younger to her by four years.

It was this love that made her approach him, having taken note of his strange behaviour and smoking habit. It was this very same love that got her to believe his words and desist from taking up the matter with their parents.

Not only did she love him but she also trusted him immensely and never imagined that he would get into something wrong.

She may not feel that she has made a mistake now in not talking to her parents but she is bound to regret this one day in the future when she finds that the problem has assumed alarming proportions.

Chapter 9

It was the day of reckoning. The blank white paper posed a challenge, but it was losing battle.

He didn't know the answers to most of the questions and thought it pointless to waste time writing what he knew. So he drew a donkey showing its teeth, carefully folded the paper and handed it in. The whole thing must have taken him not more than half an hour. He walked up to the banyan tree and lighted up. Within 10 minutes, Bharat ed him.

‘How was the paper, yaar? Wrote anything at all?'

'Not a single line. What about you?'

"A lovely grinning donkey. The examiner will love it."

Prem laughed loud.

'What's the joke, Prem?'

"I just imagined the donkey in the answer sheet smiling at Sir Calmpose. I

couldn't help laughing."

"You'll help it all right when he cuts you down in class."

That was going to be the least of his worries. What was he going to tell his parents? He puffed a little faster and offered Bharata cigarette.

‘t?'

"No, just a plain old cigarette. I've exhausted all my stock. What about you?"

‘The last one was last night. I was hoping you'd have some.' 'I couldn't sleep a wink last night. The thought of today's exam aroused spectres in me. I sat up till three with my books. But nothing seemed to enter my head. All I succeeded in doing was finish my stock.'

'Same here. Can you imagine, I smoked sixteen ts yesterday?'

Prem looked this watch. It was five miles to eleven.

‘What do you suggest? Mall Road?'

‘Of course! First things first. Get up. Let's go.'

‘Got any bread? I forgot to bring my wallet. Exam fever. Sorry.'

‘Nothing to feel sorry about. Come on, we'll be back in no time if we take the Suzuki.’

Last month Bharat's father, Easwar had come from Abu Dhabi. Absence made the heart grow fonder, or he wanted to win his son's affection. Whatever the reason, Bharat asked and he willingly bought him a shining brand new IndSuzuki ata massive . No more waiting for moody buses, no more having to hop buses. One kick and they were off. Wherever they wanted to go. Distance was no problem. They had wheels under their feet.

"How is Appu doing?"

"As bad as us, but feeling more guilty. I signalled to him to come out, but he shook his head. He dared not."

"Let him be. Don't force him, otherwise he'll be ranting and raving the whole day."

Jabbar's Mall Road shop was closed, so they took off for another place Sunil had told them about. But today was not their day.

"Anbumani has gone out of town, Sir."

'When will he be back?'

'I don't know. Perhaps a week.'

They stood lost in thought next to the Suzuki.

"What do we do? What terrible luck! Why the hell is Jabbar's shop closed? And as though Anbumani couldn't find some other time to go out of town.

Prem tried to pacify Bharat.

"Relax, Bharat. We know a couple of other places. Otherwise we'll go to the Drive-in. We are sure to get it there. As a last resort we'll go to the corner shop. Even if he can't give us a tola, he'll have enough to see us through today. So, relax, ok?"

It took them just fifteen minutes to reach their next destination. They parked the Suzuki on the main road and walked through the narrow lane and up two flights of stairs. Their hesitant, 'Is Peter here? brought a scowl to the face of the man standing near the head of the stairs.

"Who are you?"

College students.

The man didn't seem to believe them.

"Brother, come and look at these two. They want to see Peter. He called out to a moustachioed Dara Singh clone. Yes?"

We'd like to see Mr Peter."

What for?'

Bharat and Prem looked at each other. Should they mention the or not?

Sunil sent us.

'Which Sunil?’

They told him.

"Mmm. How much?

"Not much. Four or five tolas."

"Ready cash?"

Mmm...

He looked at them once more from top to toe. They looked honest.

"Go up one more flight. The third door to the right. Peter's there. The steps are full of junk. Watch out."

They went up. It was pitching dark. One hand on the step, a quick feel and a tentative foot upwards. Pigeon coops. But it was human beings who lived in them. Children peeped out but were pulled back inside, probably by the mother. Some were locked. The third door. Dara Singh's elder brother was lying on a charpoy. He was enjoying an oil massage. As soon as he saw them, he barked, 'Who's that?

"This is Prem. I'm Bharat. Sunil sent us."

"What do you want?"

'Grass.’

"How much?"

"Four. No, six tolas"

Before Peter could answer, a sidekick looked in.

Yes, Guru?

Guru hesitated.

'No problem, Guru. They are friends.’

‘I've brought the stuff.'

"What?"

"Pills."

How much?'

"A hundred packets."

"Packets? Didn't you tell me you'd get me the bottled stuff?"

"Couldn't get the bottles."

"Ok, bring it in."

Guru pulled out four biscuit tins from his sling bag. Peter opened one. Two layers of biscuits. Underneath, layers of rose coloured foil strips. Peter took out one strip. On the other side of the foil were tiny pills embedded in plastic.

'Quality stuff?’

'The very best.'

'Who brought it?'

"Our friend from Ceylon."

"Ok, you can go. Come back at night. We'll have to go somewhere to pick up some stuff."

Bye, Peter.

He pocketed the money given to him without even bothering to countit. Peter turned to them.

‘New stuff. Want to try some? Our Ceylonese friend supplies us with nothing but the very best.'

"What is it?"

"Pills. Haven't you seen any before?"

‘Pills? I don't understand.'

"Have you heard of acid? LSD?"

Oh! So that is what it was! They ed Siddharth who had come from Bombay throwing them a pitying glance. Marijuana is for sissies. The macho men use Speed or Brown Sugar,' he had

Shall we try it? If opportunity knocks, shouldn't we open the door?

Their minds raced towards the same end.

"Ok, we'll take some. How much?"

'Only two rupees each. It is 2.50 outside, but since Sunil sent you, I'll give it to you for two rupees.'

'Two rupees a sheet?'

Peter couldn't help laughing.

"Two rupees a pill, my dear boy."

'Each pill?’

'Each pill.’

Each pill! God!

"Don't call him now. Have one, then he'll come."

"But? A tola of ganja..."

Peter didn't let him finish.

He took out a sheet, pinched out two pills, and gave them one each.

"Here, take a free sample. Just try one and see."

This was more than they could resist. They took one each and tried to swallow it.

"Hey, don't swallow it. Keep it under your tonguc. Slowly, slowly."

Half a minute later, Prem said, 'Peter, we want grass.’

'Sure, kiddo. But how much do you want of this new stuff.'

Bharat looked at Prem. He shook his head. I don't have that much money now. Just give us what we asked for.'

Peter bent down. Underneath his charpoy, from an old and battered trunk, he pulled out several packets of ganja. They paid him and left.

‘So, no acid eh?’

'We can always come back tomorrow.'

They walked down carefully. They put the packets in the Suzuki glove box and drove to Bharat's house. Speeding along at 80 kilometres, Bharat barely heard Prem shouting in his ear.

"How are you feeling?"

Nothing here either. It's more than 15 minutes since we took it.

"A t would have had a wonderful effect by now."

"That Siddharth is a liar, Prem. He just wanted to make fools of us."

"And this Peter... he thought he could unload his stuff on a couple of suckers.' Prem had something more to say, but the words wouldn't come. There was a roaring in his ears. It seemed like all the blood in his body had rushed to his brain. Even before he could wonder what had happened to him, he felt his heart leave his rib cage. The traffic lights turned red. But there was blood gushing from them. He froze. His body felt boiling hot, but his blood was cold."

'Bharat. I... L'and he fell on Bharat. The car next to him sighed. Do cars sigh? What was this madness? The sky which had been blue just a moment ago had turned purple. This couldn't be. He looked down. Snakes and scorpions everywhere. He looked away to the left, but they were there too. And to his

right, in front and at the back. A crocodile was riding a scooter. The road was filled with creatures-insects, scorpions, flies, beetles. All the creatures on earth seemed to be crawling on the road.

"Bharat... go. Go, Bharat."

His voice seemed to come from deep inside. The growls and screams of the creatures drowned his.

‘Aaaah.'

Drenched in sweat, he shook Bharat. The car coming opposite turned into a monster and came crashing towards the Suzuki.

Prem was thrown right across the road. The beast had clobbered him on his head and the blood flowed down in rivulets. Fortunately, Prem fainted.

***

L.S.D

LSD-Lysergic Acid Diethylamide - is also fondly referred to as acid or tablet. It is a drug made out of a kind of mushroom. Within twenty minutes to half an hour of its consumption, the drug attacks the central autonomous nervous system and breaks reality into fractured images. It further has the ability to lead the

consumer to fantasise and imagine things.

The images born out of a distorted reality conjured up by the merging of all five senses differ from one to another. The experience of consuming the tablet and remaining in its grip for a period of six to eight hours is called the 'trip'. This could prove an enjoyable experience or turn into a terrifying one-like what Prem was going through.

LSD is produced the world over under unhygienic conditions by inhuman manufacturers and dealers who then supply it to an unsuspecting young population.

Many ingenious methods are adopted to smuggle it.

In one popular method LSD is dissolved in ether after which handkerchiefs are soaked in the mixture, the ether is allowed to evaporate and the pieces of cloth dry up. They are then exported to other countries as regular handkerchiefs. Once they reach the destination, the kerchiefs are cut into small pieces and soaked in ether once again. A few drops of this mixture are then added to sugar and then consumed.

In order to illustrate the power of LSD, the Scotland Yard Police once conducted an experiment.

They gave an artist five hundred milligrams of LSD and then sat him in front of a mirror and asked him to draw a self portrait.

The portrait that shaped up normally initially started changing with the age of time and at the end of four hours, it resembled a monster, completely unconnected with the original.

There is also the next stage of ecstasy when people have claimed to have met God and conversed with Him or Her. In effect, taking LSD is akin to playing with fire. Statistics based on studies conducted by experts show that it has evoked suicidal tendencies in many by leading them to hallucinate. They often attempt to jump off buildings.

The instances of 'flashbacks' common among those who have used LSD even once or repeatedly, have at times lasted years. The horror of what they went through makes them hysterical and lead in some cases to psychological disorders.

Chapter 10

Prem, you're not answering iny questions.

"Prem!"

He opened his eyes reluctantly.

"Ok Amma, what do you want me to tell you?"

"Each and everything that happened."

"Nothing happened."

'Nothing happened? That's why the two of you are lying here in the hospital.’

"You are making such a big fuss over nothing. Just a small scratch and you've put me in hospital. I'm ready to go home this minute."

You are a fine one to talk. You may be ready to go home because you are not

badly hurt. But just go and look at Bharat. He's got a compound fracture in his right arm, ten stitches on his forehead. Do you anything at all?

Prem closed his eyes. His throat constricted. Tears seeped out of the corners of his eyes. What had he done to his friend?

"Tell me, Prem, what happened yesterday?"

"I keep telling you nothing happened, Amma. Nothing. Just leave me alone, OK? Please."

I've no intention of leaving you alone and I will not go till I know exactly what happened. If you had just seen yourself yesterday... only half conscious... in another world. I was sick with worry. Thank God, you're fully conscious now. What were you both doing in that part of the city, and at that time? You were supposed to be Writing your exams. Tell me Prem... I must know.'

"Didn't Bharat tell you?"

"He didn't say anything. He's in terrible pain, so he's been sedated since yesterday."

Prem had to think of something. Fast.

What can I say? I must tell her something believable, something which will

satisfy her.

We had gone to the main post office, Amma.

‘What for?'

Bharat's father rang up and asked him to send some papers at cence. An STD call. He said he needed it immediately.

‘Revathi was visibly angry. Didn't he know that his son was in The middle of exams?'

"Well, they were some official papers. He couldn't help it."

If it was that important, he could have asked somebody else.

There's no one else in their house. Only his old grandparents.

If there was one thing Prem had learnt to do over the last few months, it was to become a facile liar. He did not know that this is one of the side effects of drugs. One lie smoothly follows mother. Drug s and abs - the ones who are in the preaction state-learn to manipulate people. Family and friends come puppets on a string.

There was a look of absolute innocence on his face as he cleverly concocted this story for his mother. Revathi was at a loss.

‘So why did you have to go to the main post office?'

The lies flowed easily.

'Well, it's not too far from our college. Moreover, Bharat felt that if he posted it there, it would definitely be cleared that day itself.'

"Ok, agreed that he had some work and had to go off in such a rush even while the exams were on. But why did you have to go with him?'

"…………."

Appa's not in town. He's gone for a couple of days. Since you were not too badly hurt, I didn't want to worry him unnecessarily. So I haven't called him up. When he comes back and sees how irresponsible you have been, it will break his heart.

"If some idiot comes and bangs into us, how can you blame us? Don't keep on saying we were irresponsible. I don't like it."

"When you are at fault, it's no use getting mad, Prem. There's no denying you have been irresponsible. Loafing all over the city in the middle of your semester exams. Now you are in hospital and have missed today's papers. I wonder what

the doctor will say about tomorrow. Your friend's right arm is out of action for God knows how long. All his exams he can bid good-bye to them. I feel sick when I think about it and you. All you do is to lose your temper at the slightest provocation—that's something you do very well."

Prem realised his mother was very upset and angry. He lowered his eyes. He felt dreadful. All he wanted to do was to be left alone. He didn't want any company, no one at all. Just a t to ease the hurt.

Only five minutes, with a t to keep him company. After that, let anyone say what he wanted, do what he wanted. It wouldn't bother him a bit. Amma, Bharat's grandmother. They were all welcome to come in and berate him to their heart's content. They wouldn't be shouting at him, but some disembodied person. He would be able to take anything with a smile.

"How exactly did the accident take place, Prem?"

‘I don't know.'

‘You were riding pillion, and you say you don't know.'

'I don't know because I was not looking. For a change, Prem said the truth.

The van turned into a monster. With its huge horns it came charging at them. Wasn't that how the accident happened? Could he tell his mother that? Would she believe it?

‘He had had enough of his mother's questions. The strain of dreaming up all those plausible lies had left him drained. He wanted to be alone. Using the privilege of a patient, he said, I'm feeling sleepy, Amma.'

Eat something before you sleep, Prem,' she entreated but he just turned on his side and went to sleep.

For the first time in days, he slept well. When he opened his eyes he found Appu sitting at his side, watching him anxiously.

"Hi, Appu, when did you come?"

"About 15-20 minutes ago. What happened?'

Prem quickly looked around the room. His mother was in the corridor, talking to the nurse. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

Thank God you've come, Appu.I want to see Sunil at once. When we went to buy some packets, his friend' gave us some pills and asked us to try them. After some time all kinds of terrible things happened. Well, anyway, let's forget that part of it. Let's get to the important stuff first. There are six packets in the Suzuki. If someone else finds them we'll be in deep trouble. My mother told me the Suzuki is at the police station. Let's hope the cops haven't taken a look at its insides already. Go to Sunil at once. Ask him to get in touch with his s and get something done immediately.' Just then, Revathi came in. 'What help, Prem, what do you want done immediately?'

Oh, God! His mother and her never-ending prying. Was he never going to be left in peace? She turned to Appu. 'You too had exams today, didn't you?'

‘Yes, Aunty.'

"Did you at least do your papers properly?'

'Yes, Aunty.'

Revathi let out a long sigh.

"Why did they have to rush off like that to the main post office? And then have this accident happen to them?"

Appu didn't know what she was talking about. What main post office and what had Prem told her? He was afraid of letting slip something he shouldn't. But Prem, realising his predicament, cut in.

"How is Bharat, Appu? Did you see him?"

'Not yet. I came here straight.'

‘I'll come with you. Which room is he in?'

Revathi stopped him.

You haven't eaten a thing since morning. You aren't going anywhere till you've had some coffee and biscuits at least.

Prem had no choice. He ate a couple of biscuits and gave Appu some. Both of them walked slowly to Bharat's room. Prem held Bharat's uninjured left arm. Tears streamed down his face and he said, 'Sorry, yaar!'

"Hey, come on, Prem, what's this?"

"It's all my fault. If I hadn't caught you by the shoulders and shaken you like that..."

'Don't be silly. It was the damn van driver's fault, not ours. He cut a red light, the bastard. Forget the wretch. How was yesterday's experience? Fantastic, wasn't it? I climbed up to heaven and saw God. It was really great. What about you?'

Prem didn't say a thing. He stood there confused. How was it possible for Bharat to ignore his broken arm, bandaged head and the excruciating pain and yet think that the experience was fantastic?

Appu, I must have some of those pills. I must. But for now I'll settle for some

grass. Got some?

Yup. This morning, just before going for the exams, I made five. I had just one. The rest are here. Take them all.' Bharat forgot his pain. He was up in his bed. 'Quick, close the door.'

"No, Bharat, please don't. This is a hospital. Any minute anyone can walk in-my mother, your grandmother... doctors, nurses."

‘Shit, I don't care. I must have one now. Don't you want one?'

"Oh, I do, I do. But my mother is just two doors away."

"Ok, if you don't want to risk it, leave it. I'll go to the bathroom and have a quick one. If anyone comes in tell them where I've gone. That's the literal truth, for a change, eh Prem? They don't have to know what I'm doing inside.'

And Bharat, in spite of the tremendous pain it must have caused him, laughed aloud. Exactly six minutes later Bharat came out. His face was serene. He gave Prem a big smile.

‘If your mother comes, I'll manage. Go and have a few puffs. It's really great.’

Prem went, albeit with some reluctance.

"Shall I go, Bharat? I have to go and see Sunil and ask him to take care of the stuff in the Suzuki."

"Oh God, I clean forgot. Run, that's most important. If someone else finds the stuff, it could be a criminal offence."

That evening, Prem was fully conscious and showed no sign of giddiness. So the doctors allowed his mother to take him home.

To appease his mother, Prem ate a little and went upstairs to his room. A few minutes later, Sunil and Hari came up to see him. As long as his mother was in the room, Sunil oozed sympathy. What bad luck missing your exams! Bharat is also very upset. I just met him. I didn't know till this evening.

‘As soon as his mother was out of the door, he lowered his voice to the barest of whispers.’

"There was nothing in the Suzuki. Somebody must have swiped the stuff when the accident took place. Lucky bugger. But in a way that's all to the good. If the cops had found it, it could have been really serious. Don't keep on thinking about that and worrying yourself to death. I told Bharat the same thing. Here, keep this carefully. I knew you would have a hard time without it. I gave Bharat ten too. I'll bring you some more tomorrow."

Prem was overwhelmed by his friend's thoughtfulness. A friend in need is a friend indeed. Sunil had anticipated his need. Realised his friend's plight. Got the

stuff, prepared the ts, and came all the way to deliver them. That was what being a friend really meant. There was so much emotion in his voice that the 'Thanks, yaar’ came out rather incoherently and sounded inadequate.

The next day he claimed he was feeling feverish. The day after that he was feeling giddy. He managed to stay home till the exams were over.

His father came back that evening. He got a real dressing down from him and was put under house arrest. Needless to say he was in a foul mood, greatly depressed.

He insisted on going on the excursion even though Appu and Bharat would not be going. He wanted a week of freedom, and much against his parent's wishes, off he went.

***

Pills

Pills can be categorised into three varieties-stimulants, depressants and tranquillisers.

Unless prescribed by a medical practitioner for some physical or mental ailment, undue use of these pills could yield harmful results in the long run. It is true that under the influence of these pills, s lose their self-consciousness and control, becoming inhuman and are even seized by an animal fury at times.

A couple of examples will help to illustrate the point better.

In England, a little girl of five once consumed a small amount of LSD mixed in sugar by mistake. It took her nine months to recover from the effects of the dangerous 'trip' it took her on and a further six months for her to regain her natural intelligence.

In New York, nineteen year old Barbara was baby-sitting for friends one evening when her boyfriend Jarrod visited her there, knowing well that she would be alone with the baby. They started popping pills and also consuming alcohol after putting the baby to sleep. In a while they had lost all consciousness of self and their surroundings. Without even realising what they were doing, they put the baby instead of the dressed chicken into the oven.

When the baby's mother returned a couple of hours later, she found her burnt baby in the oven and Barbara and Jarrod in a trance like state, dancing to the music in the living room.

Please don't think even for a moment that this is a cooked up incident written to add spice to the story. It is important for people to understand that pills have the ability to turn even a normal, peace-loving person into a dangerous criminal.

There are those who would scoff at this saying that they have taken pills like Speed and Acid at times and have not suffered any after effects except for enjoying a pleasurable 'high'. Believe me, they are lucky; they have escaped!

However, it has to be reiterated that with prolonged use, drugs like pills, ganja and heroin affect the central autonomous nervous system. If not today, then sometime in the future, these s are bound to get trapped and lose their self respect, peace of mind, and health, becoming victims of depression and other kinds of psychological disorders as well.

Chapter 11

Vidhan Soudha, Commercial Street, Lal Bagh, Parade Ground, Cubbon Park, Mahatma Gandhi Road.

Prem was sick of sightseeing during the last two days. What on earth did people find interesting in these places? A few buildings, a few shops, trees, flowers and some smartly dressed, good-looking girls. And that was not his scene. Prem was bored. Bored to death.

There were much better things to do, better ways of enjoying a holiday. Instead of walking endlessly and seeing the so-called sights! What a pleasure it would be to just sit back in one's room and relax with a t. Without the fear of someone catching him. And wondering what they would say.

On the third day, they were getting ready to leave for the Mavalli Tiffin Room to have breakfast. That wonderful restaurant, which had become one of the 'mustsee places in Bangalore, Where you were actually asked inside the kitchen to see how scrupulously dean it was.

Prem rebelled. He told the others, I'm not coming.

His classmate Shankar looked at him in surprise.

"Not coming to MTR! You don't know what you are missing."

'Who cares?’

Truly, Prem. Mavalli's masala dosa is really famous.'

'I know.'

"And in spite of that you don't want to come; you're going to feel sorry for it later."

"Never."

Shrugging, Shankar walked out.

That must have been about 10 minutes ago.

He was just trying to make up his mind about whether to smoke his t in the room or walk up to Cubbon Park nearby, and sit under the shade of the huge flowering Gulmohues. He decided to stay inside and take advantage of the fact that there was no one else in the room.

His sling bag was his treasure.

The day before he left for Bangalore, he went to Mall Road, and bought himself four tolas. Afraid that he might not find the privacy so essential to his work on the trip prepared ts for next week.

He calculated at the rate of 15 a day. Fifteen into seven is a 105. So he would need at least a 100-plus. He'd also have to take into the possibility of someone begging some off him. For who knew better than him one's desperation when one ran short? Through the night he sat with a small table lamp, shielded so that only the minimum of light escaped. This was to prevent Sandhya, his mother or father from knocking at his door to find but why he was still awake when he had to leave early the next day.

All that painstaking work was now lying in the sling bag, where he could keep a watchful eye on it. But calculations are never exact. Prem had calculated for 15 a day, but how does one handle so many begging companions?

'Have a toke, Prem? Please yaar, I've run out and I'm desperate.'

Those vultures. All he had to do was take out one t and they could smell it even in their rooms.

Just one, Prem, only one,' at least two guys would beg.

It was because of this that he had kept to himself. Just a formal hello was all he said to the others. He was not interested in making friends or bragging about his smoking to them.

He took out one t and was about to put a match to it when it occurred to him that he should check how many he was left with.

Forty seven, 48. That's all, shit...only 48. What was he going to do after three days?

Could he buy the stuff here? How was he going to find out where it was available? Whom could he ask?

He was mad at himself. Why the hell didn't he have the guts to say 'no' when others had asked him? He'd been a goddamned fool.

But the 'toke' worked its never failing magic. As soon as the smoke reached his lungs, he didn't care two hoots. Every problem has a solution, he theorised. He only had to know where to look. He could ask anyone about ts, somebody was bound to know. He didn't have to worry about cash. He had plenty of it. He would get some more grass and make some more ts. It was stupid of him to have got so upset over a trifle like that.

Someone knocked at the door.

A tall, dark stranger stood there. Skinny, his hair like a bear's rumpled coat. Come to think of it, it was one of the fellows who had come with him on the excursion. The face was vaguely familiar, his name unknown.

Hello.

"Hi."

I'm Vijay.

I'm Prem.

'I know. I'm in the Maths group. Aren't you in Economics?'

‘Yes.'

'Didn't you go to the MTR for breakfast?’

‘Yuck. The very thought of dosas dripping with oil early in the morning makes me sick. Imagine what would happen if I actually had to eat them. Not for me, thank you. Why didn't you go?'

"I felt the same way."

"Come in, Comrade-in-thought."

Vijay came in. He pushed all the underwear, lungis, pants, shirts and socks to one side of the bed and sat down in the cleared space. "How many in this room?"

'Four, how many do you have?’

'Four too. They've put us together group-wise. That's why we had not met for two days now. What's that in your hand, a t?’

Oh no, not one of those again. Prem hesitated. He was not going to beover generous this time.

'Hunh. Want one?' because after all if he was going to continue smoking in front of this fellow, he had to make a show of offering him one.

Apparently Vijay realised Prem's predicament. Was it that obvious? "No, thanks,' he said with a small smile, I have my own."

"Oh!"

Someone else besides me also has tokes. Not bad, not bad at all. Would his popularity decrease if there was one more guy to offer the others ts?

This was silly.

I've been smoking them now for a year or so. About eight or nine a day. I get two packets at a time and roll them. What about you?'

I can no longer manage with just packets. I get a tola at a time. After all my needs are up to 15 or 20, even more sometimes, and besides there are always a few who come and ask.'

Prem laughed smugly. Vijay ed him.

‘There's a school friend of mine who's doing engineering here. I rang him up. I was just going to see him when I crossed your room. I just dropped in to say hello.'

Prem didn't say anything.

"Coming?' asked Vijay.

"Where?"

To see my friend.

‘Sorry, yaar, I'm not in the mood to go out.'

Vijay still stood there. He put on his dark glasses, took them off, polished them, put them on again.

‘Have you ever tried brown sugar, Prem?'

"What?"

"Have you heard of smack?"

‘Meaning?'

Vijay looked at him in surprise. "You mean you really don't know? You've heard of the stuff?"

No...

"How long have you been smoking grass?"

"About six or seven months."

"And in all this time no one's told you about smack?"

The same question again and again. The insinuation that Prem was not telling the truth. Prem was beginning to get annoyed.

"I told you no,' he said,'can't you hear?'

But those who smoke grass are like buffaloes in the rain. Insults slide off their backs like so much water.

'In that case you must come with me.'

"What for?"

"Don't you want to know what brown sugar is? That's why. I feel it will be a great experience. Unforgettable. After that you won't want to smoke grass. My friend tells me."

Unforgettable experience. Prem didn't want one more of those. The things he had gone through after being given an LSD pill. He shook his head.

‘Nothing new for me. Thanks. I'm happy with grass. The LSD trip is enough to last me the rest of my life.'

‘Bad trip, eh?'

The worst. Even today when I close my eyes I can sometimes see the monster van come charging down the road straight at me. No. No. Not for me."

'I believe this is nothing like that. Last time Rajan came to Madras he wanted me to try it. But I was shit scared and cried off. Later when I heard everyone else talking about their wonderful experiences, I regretted not having tried it. There's no such thing as a bad trip with smack they say. Every time it's just wonderful. The world in your pockets. It's fantastic. Come on.'

Prem stretched luxuriously.

Vijay was a super salesman. Prem could feel all his doubts evaporate. He stood up.

‘Are you really sure there's no bad trip?'

"Positive."

"Ok. Let's go."

They took an auto to Rajan's place. Suddenly another doubt assailed Prem

'No oldies at Rajan's place?'

"Oh, no, he shares a flat with a friend. Pop runs a business in Singapore. That's the reason this guy has such a jolly good time."

Rajan certainly seemed to be having a jolly good time. His flat reeked of money. Stereo, VCR, colour TV, wow! All this in the flat of an engineering student.

Sunil's place was a hole in the wall compared to this one.

In the middle of the drawing room, with all the chairs pushed right back against the wall, several guys were lounging on the floor. Rajan introduced them all. Vijay and Prem ed the squatters.

One of the guys was holding a piece of foil with some brownish powder, just a pinch. Another fellow held a lighted candle underneath. Now the powder was like mercury. Liquid running all over the piece of foil. With a small piece of rolled paper yet another was inhaling the smoke emanating from the heated liquid.

"What on earth are they doing?" Prem asked bewildered.

Rajan laughed out loud. Haven't you ever seen this or heard about it? They are chasing heroin. You know smack? This is what it is, and this is what they do with it.

‘He came and stood near Prem."

"Want to have a shot at it?"

***

Opium/Abin

Opium is a narcotic formed from the latex (i.e., sap) released by lacerating (or "scoring") the immature seed pods of opium poppies.

The first attempt to grow opium commercially was made when the British East India Company cultivated tea and poppy around Calcutta for export to China.

While it is true that opium is used in the manufacture of certain types of drugs, it is also a fact that heroin, a narcotic with horrifying after effects that has spread its tentacles worldwide, is made from opium.

Before we go into details of heroin, it is important to understand a bit more about opium.

Opium, which has the ability to seize control of the 's brain with ease, is dissolved in hot water and then mixed with the burnt residue of the bark of the acacia or the labul tree. The resulting mixture is rolled into a ball and stuffed into hookahs which are then smoked. This kind of use is common in North India and so also is its consumption by mixing it with sweets.

Morphine is the first by-product of opium and the dreaded heroin is made from morphine. Heroin is hundred times more powerful than opium and can well be labelled the deadly venom' of today.

Chapter 12

Vijay mussed up his hair thoroughly, put on the saddest expression he could manage. Prem, on his part, let his shoulders sag and looked as washed out as he knew how. A minute ago, he had wrung a towel out in boiling water, wrapped it around his face causing it to become flushed. He had the look of a person with fever. Just in case the lecturer in charge should take it into his head to check their temperatures, they both drank a glass of hot water each. They walked into the teacher's room as quickly as 'sick’ people could, before the symptoms they had so laboriously prepared could disappear and knocked. May we come in, Sir?

His face covered with lather, the Economics lecturer was humming a film tune while getting rid of yesterday's beard. 'Yes?'

He really was a funny spectacle. One side clean and the other covered with lather, face screwed up to get the right angle for the razor. But this was neither the time nor the place to laugh.

‘Yes, boys, what is it?'

Prem could barely be heard.

I’ve had fever, Sir, since last night.

"Really? Come here. I can't feel anything, Prem."

Prem was scared that the temperature rise inside him might also have disappeared the way his hot flush had. "No Sir,' he said hurriedly, I've had a splitting headache all night. I didn't sleep a wink. My ts are aching. Why don't you take my temperature and see, Sir?"

Was offence really the best form of defence? Apparently not.

‘Just sit down for five minutes. Let me finish my shave.'

Was there ever such a bothersome person, somebody who didn't understand the urgency of a situation? Prem looked at Vijay and mouthed. What shall we do?

"Relax," mumbled Vijay, his lips barely moving. He pushed Prem into a chair and sat down next to him.

The lecturer looked at them in the mirror.

"This boy with you... isn't he in the Maths group? What does he want?

‘I'm not feeling well either, Sir.'

"What is your problem?"

"Sir, since four this morning, I've been having terrible diarrhoea. I've been to the bathroom six times already."

"What rubbish did you eat outside?"

'Nothing, Sir. I can't understand why it started. I've been having stomach cramps and a nagging pain.'

'I don't know why you people come on excursion trips. It's not even four days, and one complains of fever and another of diarrhoea. At your age you are supposed to be really healthy. But look at you two. Skinny, with all your bones sticking out. When I was a student weate only home cooked food. We had to walk for miles. The college itself was a mile away, and after that we played games. We were healthy. But you? You don't want to walk to the bathroom even if you can help it. And with your mopeds, you puff away like steam engines. How can you expect to stay healthy and not fall sick?'

He has to prove that he is a lecturer, thought the boys. What better chance to lecture than to this captive audience of two?

The teacher took out a first aid box from the cupboard. The college doctor had given him some standard medicines. The usual pills for colds and coughs, fever and stomach upsets. He put on his glasses, took out two bottles and extracted some tablets.

'Here, these yellow ones are for you, Prem. Take them with some hot tea or coffee, or better still hot milk. And these are for you. What is your name again, son?'

Vijay, Sir.

‘How many times did you say you had to visit the bathroom? Six times, eh? Have some lassi. Then take two of these now and two three hours later. If the diarrhoea doesn't stop by afternoon, we'll go and see a doctor. Drink lots of water. If dehydration sets in, it will be a problem. Prem, take your pills and lie down. Cover yourself, you'll soon sweat your fever out.'

The boys didn't say a word.

"By the way, we are leaving by the eleven o'clock bus. I hope you boys . You should both be fine by then. We still have four hours left. Take your pills and lie down."

‘Thank you, Sir,' they called in unison and walked back to their rooms.

Quite sure they were out of earshot of their chaperon, they stopped on the verandah.

"Ok now what? Half the battle is won. But do we have any choice about going on the trip?"

"Hey, hang on. Don't give up so fast. We'll go and see him soon. Listen to his advice, and then... After all, we can't let our well made plans go waste, can we? You go and lie down. I'll do the same. We'll meet in an hour."

At nine sharp, Vijay walked in.

'How are you feeling, Prem?'he grinned. 'How's the fever?'

Prem didn't grin back. He didn't know how Vijay was going to manage to wriggle out of the trip, and he had no ideas of his own.

You go first. I'll come after sometime. Both of us shouldn't go together,' said Vijay. Prem drank some hot water and walked off to confront the lecturer.

The lecturer was still humming the same song.

'How are you?' he asked looking up at Prem.

'Feeling better?’

Prem shook his head.

'Sir, just take my temperature and see. Please, Sir, my head is splitting.'

"Did you take the two tablets I asked you to?"

Prem grabbed the thermometer from the teacher and stuffed it into his mouth.

Half a minute later when the thermometer was removed it showed 101.4, thank his lucky stars!

A hundred and one! Did you shake it properly? Put it in once more.' Prer felt trapped. His mouth was cooling and there was no way it was going to show a hundred and one this time. How was he going to get out of this one? When the thermometer was on the point of being reinserted, Vijay came in with a weak 'Sir..."

"Sir, I can't breathe. Four more times already. My stomach ache is killing me. I can't even stand,' and he actually fell into a chair.

Holding his arms tight across his stomach, he moaned in pain. The sight of him doubled up in pain was frightening. The teacher ran to him.

Did you take your tablets?'

"Mmm"

And in spite of that it hasn't stopped?

His moaning increased.

"I'll call the manager and ask him to send a doctor here."

"No, Sir, that's not necessary. My uncle is a well known doctor here. Sir, just send us there. He'll take care of us.'

‘Your own uncle?'

‘No, Sir, my father's uncle. He's got his own clinic.'

Well... maybe that's not such a bad idea. Ok, come on, I'll drop you off in a taxi.

Sir, don't trouble yourself, I'll manage. You'll have to leave soon any way. I'll take a taxi and go by myself.

"By yourself? The teacher was doubtful."

Prem piped up.

"Shall I go with him, Sir?"

You?

Vijay looked at Prem.

'How's your fever?

"A hundred and one."

"My God, and you're still going on the trip?"

Prem looked like the Id sacrifice...

Sir, if you take him with his temperature, it will be difficult for you, Sir, and he won't enjoy himself. I'll take him to the clinic with me. My uncle can look after him also. When you come back after three days, we'll be fine and will be able to you.'

The teacher paced up and down the room. This would relieve him of the headache of looking after two sick boys. And suppose they became worse on the trip? A better solution was to let them go, especially as the uncle was a doctor.

'What did you say your uncle's name was?'

"I didn't say, Sir. His name is Rajan... Dr Rajan."

'Where does he live?'

In Malleswaram, Sir.'

"He won't have a problem looking after you?'

‘No, Sir, none at all. His house is attached to the clinic.'

"All right, write down the address and give it to me. Let me see. Today's Monday. On Thursday morning I'll come and pick you up.

"Oh no, Sir. We wouldn't dream of putting you to that trouble. We have troubled you enough already. We have to leave Bangalore by the night mail, so we'll be at the station at eight sharp. Right, Prem?"

Prem was lost in iration at his new friend's diplomacy, He deserved the Filmfare Award for the best non-professional actor. If they didn't have such an award, they should start one now.

He just nodded. The teacher looked at him closely. You look better already. The redness has gone from your face. Has the fever gone? You don't seem to be in so much pain now, Vijay, do you?

Fools. Their acting was not that good, after all. They went back to playing their part. Prem let his shoulders sag once more. Vijay with a sheepish smile said, 'Sir, the pain is there. I just didn't want to worry you more than was necessary.

'He seemed convinced, but barely. Giving him Rajan's address, and promising to be at the station on Thursday night, the two went back to their rooms, barely able to conceal the spring in their steps and the joy in their hearts. Stuffing their bags they took a taxi and sped to Rajan's place.’

Without stepping out of the place even once the whole gang smoked and chased. For days.

Rajan supplied them free of charge-half a gram in the morning and half in the evening. The kick brown sugar gave them was 10 times more than ganja. They lived in the daze that brown sugar Produced. They were the masters of the world, able to do anything they wanted... even if need be to bring the sky down to earth. In this make-believe world, they spent three days.

On the fourth day, Rajan sat down next to Prem and Vijay. "There's something very important I have to discuss with the two of you."

They were sitting there in readiness for the morning's quota. 'How was the experience? Fantastic, eh?

"Really great."

"At peace with the world for the last three days, huh?'

"All thanks to you."

"I should have told you this on the first day itself... I forgot... Once you are on brown sugar you can't stop suddenly. If you do that, your body is subjected to the most horrendous stress."

‘Like what?'

‘You will have pain all over the body. You will keep yawning all the time.'

Not able to understand that Rajan was warning them that they had already become addicted to brown sugar, with dire consequences if they gave it up, Prem thought he was joking and bughed.

"That's only if we stop using it, right? But we are not going to stop, are we, Vijay?"

"Good, that's the spirit. You are leaving tonight. I'll tell my friend to bring you whatever you need, and I'll give you an address where you can pick up some

after you finish this. His stuff is guaranteed. Ok, now how many grams do you want? How much money have you got?"

'One week's supply should be enough, so give me four grams, What about you, Prem?'

'Well, if your friend is bringing it, we might as well take some more. I'll take 10 grams.'

Rajan gave a sharp whistle.

'Do you have that much bread?’

'What do you mean by that much?'

"That much meaning 400 rupees. Brown sugar costs 40 a gram."

The two looked at each other. They had been going high on 50 rupees each trip. A lot of bread, indeed.

"But you were giving it to us free..."

"That was a token of my friendship."

Vijay got up.

'Forget it, Rajan. This stuff is beyond my reach. I'll stick to grass.'

'Hang on, Vijay. It's not that simple. You don't just start on brown sugar and then say, I'll quit. It doesn't work that way.'

‘Are you trying to scare me, Rajan?'

'No, I'm giving you some friendly advice. I don't want you to suffer, that's all. If you want to see what not taking your regular quota can do to you, just skip this morning's dose and see.'

Vijay refused to believe that after just three days of taking brown sugar, stopping it would have any deleterious effect on him. He challenged Rajan that he would disprove his dire predictions and refused the morning's quota.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon. First, Vijay felt as if he was going in for a bout of flu. His ts ached terribly. Soon he started to yawn as though he had not slept for two days. But not an occasional yawn. The yawns kept coming. A slight stomach ache. His throat was dry. His nose was dripping and he had to sniff constantly. What was happening to him?

Half an hour later all the symptoms worsened.

"Didn't I warn you?" said Rajan and quickly gave him a cigarette laced with brown sugar.

One drag. What magic was this? It was like a light switched off. All the pain, the yawns, the nasal waterfall, were shut off. There was no way out of this trap. They had fallen victim to brown sugar. They must either remain as slaves forever or face the excruciating withdrawal pain. It would be a part of their lives henceforth.

They pooled all their cash, bought 10 grams and returned home. Even after many days, they did not realise they had been like flies caught in the web Rajan had cleverly spun. Rajan, found new customers for his goods by ensnaring them both.

***

Brown Sugar

Before going into the details of brown sugar, it may be interesting to recall a speech delivered several years ago in parliament by actor Amitabh Bachchan, who was then an MP.

He claimed that brown sugar was being mixed with tobacco and supplied free of cost to students outside school premises. Since brown sugar has the power to turn a into an addict within four days, it will lead to the suffering severe withdrawal symptoms if the drug is not made available at the end of four

days. The suppliers of free cigarettes then ruthlessly deny it to the children and offer the powder for sale instead. The children who are by now hooked to the drug have no choice but to shell out thirty to forty rupees for it now.

This practice of exploiting school children is common throughout the country. Some of these children, who are denied access to money, even resort to stealing, such is their desperation.

Chapter 13

He wanted to smash everything in sight.

He threw all the books from the table to the floor. The clothes flew from the cupboard on to the bed. Hestrode up and down the room. The stool happened to be in his way. One kick and it went flying to the tennis racket in the corner. It fell on the guitar, smashing it. The guitar fell down. That made him more angry.

"Oh hell! Bloody hell!'he screamed. He walked towards the bed, hoping that lying down for a few minutes would calm him somewhat."

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Prem...

My God! Amma!

"Prem..."

'Coming.’

He bundled up all the clothes and shoved them under the bed. He gathered the books and dumped them in the cupboard, then shut it and locked it. All this took just a few seconds, but his mother was losing patience.

Prem,' she called again, sharply.

The tennis racket was hidden under the stool, the guitar was turned away to hide the damage. A quick look around. Thank God there were no cigarette stubs or dirty ashtrays or any matchboxes to give him away. He smoothed his hair on his way to the door. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

Revathi gave him a suspicious look. "What were you doing? Why did you take so long to open the door?"

'I was studying, Amma.'

‘Appa and I have just returned from Panabhan Uncle's party. I was about to change when I heard this loud noise from your room. My heart almost stopped and I came running up. And you take so long to open the door.'

"Sorry, Ma. The book just slipped off the table and fell on the guitar. That's all." He smiled as though to say, 'What a big fuss over nothing."

Revathi came inside and looked around the room. It was not as messy as usual. Eleven thirty and her son was still up and studying, Quite an improvement. She

smiled at him. 'Uncle asked why we hadn't brought you along,' she remarked.

No reply.

‘I told him your exams were round the corner and you were busy studying. Last time you missed all your exams. You must make up this time. Ok, Prem?'

‘Mmm.'

'Appa has been saying' Prem has changed. He's not the old Prem. He's become very responsible. He keeps long hours, studying late into the night...

Mm.

‘You know our dreams for you, Prem, don't you? We want you to graduate well so that you can qualify for an MBA in the United States and get into the World Bank'

‘…………..’

Prem's indifference bothered Revathi. She came close and put her hand on his shoulder.

‘Tired, Prem?'

'Oh Amma, not really.’

Why don't you go to bed? You can get up early in the morning and read.

"Mmm."

Revathi remained silent for a few seconds. Then as though something had just struck her, she said, 'You've been coming home rather late from college these last few weeks. Even today, you were not home when we left at seven thirty.

Er, that...I.

It took Prem a split second to recover. What reason could he give his mother for coming home late? That he was with Vijay in his friend's house? That, with no one to bother them, they were able to experience the highs of brown sugar, before they went home to face a world from which they had to hide their wonderful experiences?

‘Prem had become such a facile liar that he needed only a split second to weave a new story to fool his mother. He laughed ingenuously. Bharat still has the plaster on, Amma. So Appu and I go to his place after college, to write out all the notes he's missed, do some group study and then come home.'

Revathi's eyes filled with pride thinking about her thoughtful and generous son.

"Do you the time in hospital when Bharat's grandmother screamed that her grandson had been spoilt by his loafer friends?"

What does she say now? People should think twice before they talk. Words spoken can't be taken back. I was so upset when I heard her include your name in the list of loafers. It was very insulting. My blood begins to boil everytime I think of it. Age has not given her sense enough to weigh her words. She should find out the facts before jumping to conclusions. Now isn't it the same loafer friend who's helping him out? Taking the trouble to go to his house every day, writing out his notes? Doing group study? There aren't too many friends who will go to such trouble.

To think his spur of the moment excuse would incite his mother to go on and on! Enough was enough. He made a show of stretching, with a big yawn.

His mother took the hint.

"Ok, go to bed now. We'll talk in the morning."

‘She turned to go, but suddenly turned and asked, 'Did you have youir dinner? The chapattis are still lying on the table.'

'Of course I did.’

"How many did you have? Onc?"

"…………"

"I have been screaming myself hoarse for the last six months. Day after day. I know how much you eat. Don't think because your father and I go out to parties most of the time, I don't know what's happening at home. I check to see if you've had dinner, and if so, if you ate properly.’

"………….."

There was no answer from Prem. All of a sudden, Revathi's nose wrinkled.

"I've been wanting to ask you ever since I came in. What is this funny smell in your room?"

Prem was caught unawares. It was bad enough letting her go on and on, but to have her stay so long in the room... Unnecessary talk, unnecessary questions.

'It's just a shut-in smell as the windows have been kept closed. I didn't have dinner. Bharat's grandmother had made his favourite stuffed paratha and she served us too. You know how heavy a stuffed paratha can be. That's why I was not hungry when I came home. But I'm hungry now. Will you give me a glass of milk? I'11 drink it and go to bed.'

His mother left the room with a happy smile. Prem knew he had succeeded again. She was back in five minutes with a hot glass of milk and an apple. She put them both on the table, said a warm "Goodnight' and went to bed satisfied. The milk Prem's mother brought went down the sink. That was not what he wanted now. He looked into his bag to see how much brown sugar he had left.

No more than a big pinch.

He couldn't afford to use this up now. Otherwise tomorrow morning would turn out to be miserable. He took out the carefully folded packet and put it in his smack kit. These days the smack kit and he were inseparable. When Rajan gave them 10 grams of brown sugar he gave them a kit as well.

Smaller than a child's paint box, it had everything required to 'chase' heroinsheets of silver foil, cigarette papers, a pair of tiny scissors, a candle and a box of matches. Prem took out the straw used to channel the smoke. Slicing it open very carefully, he took a razor blade and with the dexterity of a surgeon, scraped out the few grains of brown sugar sticking to its sides. This was precious stuff, so he had to be careful. No hurried movements. Nosudden breaths and especially no coughing. The brown sugar was as elusive as the Scarlet Pimpernel. He carefully dropped the grains on to the silver foil. Lighting a candle, he inhaled the smoke with a fresh straw.

Dum maro dum... Snatches from the familiar song wafted through his mind.

All the cares of the world vanished as quickly as the smoke did. Anger, frustration, irritation, the petty annoyance all of it disappeared; there was nothing more to worry about.

At peace with himself and the world, he opened the windows to let in some fresh air, took out the sandalwood agarbatiis, exclusively bought for such occasions, lighted one, stuck it into an apple. The smell of sandal was floating in the air. As the smoke of the smack filled his lungs, he stretched out luxuriant on the bed.

His only problem was what he was going to do for the next day afternoon!

He used the 10 grams that Rajan had given him at the rate of half a gram a day. As he found that he was not getting enough kick, he wanted one gram a day. He went to an address in the city that Rajan had thoughtfully given him. He bought only four grams as he did not have much cash with him. He went back half a grama day. But that was not enough now. So he tried to smoke grass in between. But that didn't help any longer so he had to have one gram a day. And now he was left with just one more chase for the next day.

He got up. He pulled open all his drawers, took out his clothes, and emptied all his pockets. He found the pen he thought he had lost on the bus; his yellow Tshirt, which he had not been able to find for months. But the thing he was looking for was not there. All he was able to lay his hands on were eight rupees and some change from his wallet, and a five rupee note in a notebook.

Unless he handed over 60 solid rupees, the man was not going to part with one gram.

'Credit. The word is taboo, here. Cash in my hand, goods in yours. This is the way we do business,' the dealer had said. This warning was delivered on the very first day they had gone to him. Bread! At least 60 rupees a day! How was he going to manage that?’

No question of asking Amma for money on the pretext of examination fees or books. The exams were still a month away.

He went back to bed to think things out. He cradled his hands under his head as an extra pillow. His eyes fell on the Seiko watch his father had given him for ing his Plus Two exams.

It's a very expensive watch, Prem. I paid a hundred and five American dollars for it. Be careful,' his father had said.

'Why worry when I am here?' the watch seemed to say. What would he tell his parents if they asked him about the watch? He would have to think of something later. His problems were solved for the time being. When the next one came up that was the time to worry. Not now.’

Early next morning, after chasing the last of the brown sugar, Prem took the bus to college. Mid-way he changed to a bus to the commercial area of the city. He knew that he was not likely to bump into anyone he knew there. He walked into the first pawnbroker's shop.

Walking up the steps, Prem was visibly nervous. His hands were sweaty. His throat was dry. The words stuck in his throat.

The Seth was leaning against the pillow, one paan in his hand, another in his mouth. People in Prem's condition were an everyday sight to him. To make him even more ill at ease, he took the watch and looked at it very casually.

'What do you want me to do with this?’

"I... I want to pawn it."

Prem's palms were sweating. I'll give you 200 rupees for it. No bargaining,' said the pawnbroker.

And Prem had thought he would get at least 700 or 800 rupees for a watch which was worth nearly 2,000.

Sethji, that's too little.

'The Seth handed back the watch. If you feel so, take it back.'

"Please, Sethji."

I'm busy.'

'How much will you give me if I want to sell it?'

The Seth pushed up his glasses. He took another look at the watch.

"Three hundred and fifty. And no more talk."

"That's very little."

‘If you don't like it, I told you what to do.'

"Sethji!"

Ok. As a favour to you, 400. Take the money and go. I have other customers waiting.

He had brought himself peace for the next ten days. He went to the dealer and bought the magic powder.

Vijay came over. 'Do you have any brown sugar, Prem? I'll give it back tomorrow when I buy some.

Prem was not going to be generous any more. With a look of absolute innocence, he said, 'Sorry, yaar. I have to go and get some myself.

And he waited for Vijay to go away so that he could enjoy it in privacy, with no demands made on him.

The 10 days ed before he knew it. And what was going to happen tomorrow? That was the thought that filled Prem's mind. He had no time to think of food or sleep. The only thought which recurred was how he was going to find the money for tomorrow's smack. And the day after, and the day after.

***

Heroin/Brown Sugar

Pure heroin is actually a white powdered substance. This is not commonly available in India. Adulterated heroin powder resembles the ashes of an incense stick, similar to brownish 'Snowcem' paint powder. That is why it is called brown sugar.

Heroin was available only in the black market till 1983; but now, brown sugar is freely available in all big cities and towns of India.

The price ranges from Rs 40 to Rs 80 per gram depending on the quality. Brown sugar is used in any one of the following four ways.

a) It is inhaled like snuff.

b) It is stuffed into cigarettes and smoked.

c) It is 'chased'.

d) It is dissolved in water and injected into the veins using a

syringe. Dr Devar points out this drug that becomes addictive within three or four days of use soon causes a variety of ailments like constant cough, blood being thrown up along with phlegm, holes in the lungs, and even tuberculosis. It is common for healthy youngsters to soon turn into chronic patients. At times, brown sugar proves fatal.

Chapter 14

Prem had bitten his nails to the quick. He now started on the flesh of his thumb. The pain went uned in his tired brain till blood finally oozed out of his finger. He took his thumb out of his mouth. He went into the bathroom and placed it under the cold water till his thumb became numb and the pain stopped.

He came back to bed and started thinking all over again. What was the time? Eleven-thirty.

He had enough for his three o'clock chase but after that? It was a Sunday. It was not going to be so easy to get the stuff. If he started trying now, there was some chance he could get the stuff by evening

He knew what he had to do, but where was the bread to do it with? He put his sore thumb back into his mouth. It was one thing if he could not or did not know what to do. But knowing what to do and sitting around unable to do it!

He threw the pillow at the wall. It fell with a thud. A newspaper lay at his feet. It was confetti by the time he finished with it.

What a life! There was less and less freedom to do things in this house.

He felt like banging the door shut, throwing a few books out of the window,

screaming. But implacable as fate, his mother or Sandhya would soon be there asking him what was wrong. He knew what was wrong, but it was nothing he could tell them.

They no longer seemed to believe what he told them. Thinking up new lies everytime to convince them was irritating. Why couldn't they just let him be?

"Are you feeling all right, Prem?" they would say. You don't look well at all.

Agreed, he was much thinner than he was about seven or eight months back. It was also true that his habit of shutting himself in his room was becoming more frequent.

So what? Why this look of utter disbelief no matter what he said? If they could believe him then, why didn't they believe him now?

What had changed? Certainly not his inventive capacity. 'Instead of accepting my explanations, they ask a million questions. How, who, why, where?'

Besides the never ending questions, his mother had started nagging him. "You've changed so much,' she said" Look at you. Your body is sagging. Your eyes are a foot deep inside your head. What is the matter with you? You look so sick. Shall I take you to the doctor? Sandhya also tells me you have some problem you're not telling us about Why don't you tell us what it is? We can help you. Maybe we can handle it ourselves without involving Appa. Come on, tell me.'

Hell! Bloody hell. At this time, when I am worried about where I'm going to get some brown sugar so that I don't have to suffer cold turkey, when I am worrying about the terrors of the withdrawal symptoms, there she goes on and on

Cold turkey. The thought of it sent shivers down his spine. His fingers clenched, he broke into cold sweat. He thought how apt the name was and wondered who first called it so.

Whoever it was must have gone through hell to have given it that name. Only last month he had seen what could happen to a fellow who didn't have his quota. After having managed five days supply, he came home to find Vijay waiting for him in his room. His face was ashen with terror. He was yawning. Non-stop. Goose pimpled flesh on this hot day as though the temperature was minus five. Water streaming endlessly from his eyes and nose.

'Please, Prem, please, please. I've got to have some smack. Please give me a little. I was not able to get it. The police raided my usual dealer's shop this morning. Please, please, something is happening in my throat. Every bone in my body is aching, Please.'

He fell at Prem's feet touching them with his forehead. Prem was shocked. Thank God his father and mother had gone to a wedding. Sandhya was at her French class. What if she came back? What would he tell her about Vijay and the pitiable state that he was in? He quickly shut the door and bolted it from inside, to make doubly sure there would be no unexpected interruptions.

Prem's voice clearly showed his irritation. What is this?' he asked.

‘Vijay did not seem to have heard the anger or irritation or for that matter anything that Prem had said. Doubled up with pain, he staggered to the bathroom, and came crawling back. He barely made it to the bed. The yawns continued and the tears still flowed. Vijay seemed not to notice those either. Please, please, give me a chase. Just one shot, I beg you. I need it.’

I dont have any, Vijay.

'Don't bluff. When I went to Sam, he told me my friend had taken the last of his stock.'

'Must have been some other friend of yours.'

He writhed in pain and ran back into the bathroom. When he came back, his face was ashen.

You don't know the hell I've been undergoing in the last couple of hours. I've been to the bathroom at least 20 times now. Something seems to have got caught in my throat. I feel someone is sawing away at my ts. Oh God. Please, Prem, please.

He started sobbing loudly. Prem was afraid the servant would come up any minute.

‘Please, Prem, I beg you. Can't you give me one gram today? I'll return two grams tomorrow. I swear by my mother. If I don't have a shot now I'll die.

Please.'

His body shook in visible spasms of pain. He dirtied the floor, with no energy left in him to go to the bathroom. Before Prem could digest what had happened, he vomited all over himself, Prem's bed and the floor.

Prem shivered. Revolted. He now ed the time Rajan had warned him not to suddenly give up the habit. He had told him that the body couldn't take it. Was this the cold turkey Rajan had spoken about? Horror of horrors.

He'd better do something fast before Sandhya came home. First thing first. He went to his secret hiding place and took out half a gram, and lighting it up for Vijay, held it under his nose. What magic was this? Just two minutes and Vijay was up and sitting. He even managed a faint 'Thanks, yaar.'

They both sat down and had another chase. He brought some Dettol from the bathroom and cleaned up the place.

It was sheer luck that nobody came home till everything was back to normal

But the thought of that day and Vijay's cold turkey, was enough to frighten him. What torture! If ever I get into that state! Oh, God! Hell cannot be worse than that. Unbearable pain. No, no. I'll make sure that it never happens to me. I'll make sure that I always have a few days' supply with me. Then I don't have to worry.

Having come to this decision, he started keeping an emergency ration of two grams in the house. But with the temptation of having those two grams, his intake increased. And from one gram a day, he was now chasing two and sometimes two and a half. So much smack meant so much money.

Money. How nice it would be if he could just go to a tree and pick some. Nearly a 100 rupees a day. He had sold his watch, his transistor, and now he prowled around the house for goods which would not be easily missed.

He found a gold Parker pen in his father's cupboard. It was his grandfather's ift to his father. It was a precious keepsake but not something the his father looked for very frequently, so it would not be missed inmediately.

Next on the list was Sandhya's Sony tape recorder. His mother's cupboard became the target as it was risky to remove money from his father's wallet. Last week, when his mother was bathing, he took her diamond ring from the dressing table.

That was his first mistake. She looked for the ring everywhere when she came out of the bathroom and couldn't find it on the dressing table. Was this an earthquake or just his mother screaming?

I've been finding money missing in the last few weeks, Revathi, his father said. And when they all sat together and talked it over, they realised that it was not the only thing missing. The Sony tape recorder, the pen and various other things had vanished.

The poor servant was set upon. After all he went into all rooms every day.

'If you had some problem, you could have asked us for money. We would have given it to you. We can report you to the police, but you have worked for us for so long. Just get out, and never come back.'

The room was filled with the cries of the innocent servant, 'Amma, not me. I swear to God it wasn't me.' Prem's parents ignored his cries and left the room. Prem watched the whole scene, but didn't say a word.

A week ed. Taking anything more from the house was out of the question. Now that the servant was no longer there to be blamed, he couldn't take a chance. The money from the ring would last him only till tomorrow. He had to arrange money somehow for his further chases.

These thoughts left him tired and angry. He was mad that Sunil was not in town. He could have touched him for a hundred or two.

Sunil had gone home to see his mother who was sick. She didn't want to let him go. Don't go back, Sunil,' she begged and cried, 'I can't stay without you.' So Sunil gave up his studies and stayed at home. He helped his father run the estate. He was going to do it anyway, so why take the trouble of getting a degree for it?

Who else was there who could lend him some money? Vijay was out of the question. He was in the same boat. He too needed about a hundred rupees a day. He was not going to have any to spare for Prem. That day, true to his word, Vijay had returned one gram of change for the half gram he had taken. 'If I go and ask him now? No, no, I can't do that.

'What about Bharat? Since he started with L.S.D. and I with brown sugar, we rarely see each other. But that's not his fault. I'm the one who keeps my distance, afraid that anyone who comes close will want a free dose. Isn't this the truth?’

"If I tempt Bharat into trying brown sugar, his father sends him pots of money and his house is filled with imported stuff so, I can manage to get through a few months that way. That might be a good idea.' There seemed to be no other solution in sight. So taking one gram of brown sugar and the paraphernalia used with it, he took the bus to Bharat's place."

Using all the charm he could muster, he spoke so fondly and iringly of the brown sugar he was carrying, that Bharat's protests died away and Prem helped him to chase the stuff.

Borrowing two hundred rupees from him, he got himself some fresh stock and, without the faintest feeling of guilt, went home. It was already dark by then.

***

Brown Sugar

The number of drug addicts that I met over the last year, while conducting research for this story, numbered around seventy. It is painful to note that the majority of them were youth, in the age group of fourteen to twenty. Almost all of them claimed that they had no idea when they started using drugs. Brown sugar and other similar narcotic substances were so harmful that they would become addicted to them in no time at all.

These innocents had been sucked into the whirlpool of drugs and turned into liars, thieves and lost all sense of basic human decency and did not even suffer any guilt pangs in consequence. I had a detailed discussion with Dr Ramachandran and also Dr Devar on this topic.

Both of them explained in detail about how brown sugar had this ability to turn a into an addict, besides stripping him or her of basic human decency and turning him into an extremely selfish person. They also gave me a detailed explanation about 'Crab tendency' which is the typical nature of a drug addict.

When ten crabs are put into a jar for observation, one basic fact will stand out. Even if one crab tries to crawl up the wall of the jar in order to escape, the others will promptly pull it down. This tendency to destroy themselves as well as people around them is common among drug addicts. They turn into extremely selfish people, shorn of basic human values.

Chapter 15

Halfway home he thought, what's the point? He got off at the beach and walked to the water's edge. The waves lapped at his bare feet. He walked on and on till he was tired. He stretched out his aching feet and felt the cool, soothing waves.

What a life! It was as though he was locked up in a dark room with no possible means of escape-solid walls, no windows or doors, not even a pin hole to let in light.

He took out the smack kit for the umpteenth time. Were any grains stuck somewhere in the silver foil, in the straws? No such luck. Perhaps a few grains at the bottom of the tin that had fallen while he was taking out the packets? He cursed his carefulness now. He had always taken out the packets as though they contained the most precious gold dust.

His stock was over. The next chase should be in two and a half hours. If he missed it he could go cold turkey in the next four to five hours.

It would start with a yawn. Every hair on his body would stand on its end in protest. His stomach would develop cramps. The bones would ache and every t would ache in sympathy. The eyes and nose would drip endlessly. Unable to stand or move, his body would shiver and double up. His throat would be parched; his breath would come in short gasps.

And then... No... Prem shook his head.

His fingers started shaking in anticipatory fear. The waves thundered in his ears. He tried to focus on other things. To no avail. He bit his nails, got up and walked as fast as he could, hoping that the physical exertion would quieten his mind.

It helped a bit. Coming across a fishing boat, he leant against the weather-beaten wood.

The facts remained. He did not have brown sugar for his next chase. What was he going to do about it? He could not find an answer. He buried his face in his hands and burrowed his head into his knees. The after effects of missing a chase and his inability to get one horrified him. Prem started to whimper. The tears dropped on the sand. His face was wet and streaked dirt.

Why was life so impossible? He had already tried everyone he could think of. He was no longer able to steal things at home. Having started Bharat on smack, he had gone there shamelessly and stuck to him like a leech for 15 days. Sarcasm he ignored, wallowing in the glorious stuff.

But even Bharat had started having problems with cash. They both tried out all the people they could touch for a loan. Should they follow other smack addicts like Vijay, Raju and Shyam? Quit college and start selling movie tickets on the black market? Or board local trains during rush hour and pick as many pockets as possible?

Vijay had told them that the students 'made' anywhere between 50 and 100 rupees everyday this way. When Prem suggested they do the same, Bharat laughed. 'Pick pocketing? Selling tickets on the black market? Not my style. No, thanks.’

Prem was annoyed.

'It's not a bad idea. We need the bread, and it seems to me a fairly safe way of getting it.'

If it's so easy, why don't you go and them?

‘I would, except that Vijay is quite annoyed with me for having spent all my time with you for the last two weeks. He called me a bastard and asked me to stay away from him.'

‘So you went and asked him to be your partner, eh?'

‘Yes, I begged him. Didn't you scream at me that I had ruined your life? That it was because of me that you wasted your father's money and sold all your imported things.’

‘Of course I screamed. So what? Didn't you keep on shamelessly borrowing money till I went bankrupt?'

‘Prem mumbled. 'Big deal. Yes, you gave me money, but what about the many times I got you grass?'

‘This irritated Bharat, 'What the hell are you mumbling for? If you want to say something say it loud and clear.'

He wanted to, but at that time he needed Bharat's help. "If we keep quarrelling, neither of us will gain anything. What we have to do is find a way to get some bread immediately. We are left with nothing for tomorrow. I've told you all the ideas I can think of. You have dismissed all of them. So you tell me yours.

Bharat popped a pill into his mouth and offered one to Prem.

'Forget it, yaar. Let's find a way out of this tight spot first.'

Bharat closed his eyes in thought.

I've already used the exam fee for smack. Did the same with the money I took for books. If I ask for any more dough, my grandmother will beat me up. Just yesterday she complained to my grandfather that many things were missing in the house.

The pill started to work. Bharat relaxed leaning against the wall. Problems seemed far away.

'Hey! Bharat, I ask you for ideas and you are in a pill daze.'

Shhh... don't disturb me. My brain is ticking away.'

‘Fingers on his lips, Bharat refused to open his eyes. A few minutes later when Prem was ready to pull Bharat's hair out by the roots, he opened his eyes. 'Are you ready for anything?'

"Ready."

‘Anything?'

"Sure."

‘Ok,answer me. What reason did you give me for not bringing the money today?’

My cousin Murali has come. He has to go away to see his fatherin-law who is seriously ill. The boy who works for him will lock up the shop and bring the keys here at night. 'Please keep it. I'll be back in a few days, Murali said. My mother was busy talking to him-I couldn't butt in and ask for special class fees.'

'Good. So your cousin won't be here for the next few days, right?’

"So what does that have to do with us?"

'The keys of the shop will be at your place?'

"Mmmmm."

"Very good. What shop does your cousin run?"

"As though you didn't know. We have gone to his place often and picked up cassettes to watch on your VCR"

Bharat laughed.

"Now the same shop is going to help us. God bless Murali and his shop."

Prem did not understand.

'You don't follow? Let me explain. How many cassettes are there in that shop?'

‘Over 400.’

"Lovely. If we take even half the tapes and sell each for 50 rupees, 50 multiplied by 200 is 10,000 rupees. Wow! How do you like my idea?

Prem finally understood but he felt as though Bharat had hit him with a wet

newspaper.

Stealing cassettes and selling them? How can I do this and get away with it?' Prem asked Bharat.

Bharat hit him on the knee and laughed out loud and long.

'Didn't I tell you, my brain was ticking away? Your brain didn't come up with it, did it? Did Vijay or his idiot friends think of it? Pick pocketing, black marketing, chicken feed. Who wants 100 and 200 when you can get thousands this way?'

'Which way?'

"The shop keys will be at your place, right?"

"Right."

"Just bring them to me."

"Then what?"

"I'll take 50 tapes a day. By the time your cousin comes back, we'll have what we need."

Prem was not convinced yet. Bharat was annoyed. You want the bread to buy brown sugar. You don't have a single decent idea of your own. I give you a brilliant idea and you don't have the guts to accept it.

'What will I do if somebody catches me taking the keys?'

'Make sure they don't. Just bring me the keys. I'll do the rest.'

With the bravado induced by Bharat and the chase, Prem quietly took the keys when his mother went for a bath. He gave them to Bharat who was waiting for him on the street.

'Don't come to my place for the next few days, he warned. We don't want to cause suspicion.'

The third day the keys were back in their place.

Prem was dying to know what had happened.

"Did everything go according to our plan?'

"Of course. What else did you expect?" Bharat asked. With a wide grin he turned and pushed off.

The next day, when Prem went to Bharat's house the cupboard was stacked with tapes. Bharat wiped out the recordings in the tape and sold them for 50 rupees each. What was to happen when Murali returned and found half his tapes missing was another story.

Bharat gaveln 100 rupees a day. After ten days he refused to give him anyie money.

I have giver u too much already just for getting the keys. Thousand ruis is a lot of money for one minute's job. Any more grumbling and I'll go straight to your house and tell your folks that it was you who took the tapes and brought them to my house for safekeeping.'

For the next four days, Prem dogged Bharat's footsteps. Like a dog, he whined and crawled, wagged his tail and even when kicked came crawling back, begging. The height of humiliation was when Bharat threw 200 rupees on Prem's face and told him to get out and not show his face to him again.

"Scoundrell I'll never go near him again even if he begs me, Prem thought.

Prem's problems now seemed to him endless as the ocean. 'Shall I go to the dealer and beg him? Promise to do anything for him as long as he gives me one gram?' That was his last chance. He took a bus to the city.

He was an old and valued customer and so he was welcomed warmly.

The dealer Sam is in a good mood. May listen to me.

'Okay. How many grams do you want?'

‘I... I don't have any money with me now.’

‘Don't you know that no money means no smack?'

Yes, I know, but I was hoping that just this time, you would do me a favour and give me some on credit.’

"That rule is unbreakable here."

Please. I've tried everywhere I know, but I couldn't manage to get any money. So, this one time. Please."

‘You couldn't get any money, eh?'

'No.'

‘But you still want the stuff?'

'Desperately.’

'Well. In that case you can do something.'

'Anything at all.'

"Can I trust you?"

'I swear it.’

'No hanky panky.'

Have I ever done anything like that before?

‘You haven't. That's why I'm willing to take a chance and help you now. I'll give you 10 grams. Each gram costs 30 rupees. That's our cost price. You sell it for 40 and keep the rest. I won't take any advance from you. Just sell it and bring the money. I'll give you more stuff to sell. Don't think you can cheat us. If you do, we'll finish you off. Ok?'

If he sold 10 grams a day, he would get 100 rupees. He could get himself three and a half grams at cost price. If he found the right people, he could even sell 20 grams a day.

Taking the 10 grams Prem started his first job as a salesman. He sold destruction to all his friends.

***

Raju – Shyam

These characters pop up during the course of this chapter only by name. They are not fictitious characters. I have met both of them.

Sivasankari. 12

Raju is fifteen years old. He has been addicted to brown sugar for over two years now. The boy is a student of Class XII but he spends more time on the electric trains in the city, by himself and as part of a gang, indulging in pickpocket thievery. The police once caught him and his actions were brought to the notice of his parents. He is now under treatment for addiction.

The other boy is Shyam. He was addicted to brown sugar and once, under its influence, he broke into a video shop run by his family friends. He stole more than a hundred and fifty tapes and sold them to fund his drug habit. Since he belonged to an influential family, the matter was kept under wraps. He confessed that though his father was an extremely wealthy man, he had no choice but to steal to meet his needs. He did not seem to feel any remorse for his actions. Parental pressure has brought him to a de-addiction clinic for the fourth time, due to.

Chapter 16

Prem was at the drive-in restaurant leaning against a tree. He had been there for the last half hour, hoping at least one customer would turn up.

A black ant climbed up his leg and over his hand. His little movement made the ant nervous. It bit him sharply. Prem was not going to let it get away with it. He swept it to the ground, and stamped it out of the way. The bite soon grew red and started to itch and burn.

He could stay here for an hour at most. After that he had to go to the next location before anyone he knew came by during lunch time.

What day was it? Tuesday. That meant 10 to 11 am at the Drive-in, 11 am to 2 pm at the Plaza, 2 to 4 pm outside the Commerce College gates and evening at the park near the fountain.

Every day, he had a different schedule at different places for his sales. The dealer had taught him the tricks of the trade.

"Never go to the same place at the same time every day,' he had wamed. You are sure to get caught by the Narcotics squad. Their spies are always on the look out for people like you. The only way you can avoid them is to change the time and place as frequently as possible."

"How will my customers know when and where to find me if I do that? Shouldn't I be in fixed places at fixed hours? The way I know I can always find you here?"

The dealer lit a cigarette and offered Prem one.

'Not at all,' he said, shaking his head. 'Me, I'm a wholesaler. I work differently. I have a large gang working for me. I have my own territory, bought and paid for. No one dare lay a hand on my people. If at some time, someone has to be caught to appease the higher-ups, we look after him. We send word to the right persons and get him released. It's all one big eyewash. Suddenly there is a hue and cry that drug peddling is on the increase and what are the authorities doing? In the next few weeks we allow a lot of small fish to be caught. Does anyone ask what happens to them? Oh no, they are happy that something is being done. And in the best fishing traditions the fish too small to be caught are thrown back into the sea. They continue to swim happily till the next net is thrown. But you do not belong to this category. You'd better be careful. So watch out for yourself. No one else will do it for you.'

Prem licked his dry lips.

‘I'm now a part of your group, am I not? Why won't you look after me also?'

He really was a babe in the woods. The dealer laughed.

You? In our group? Oh, my God=you are ambitious, aren't you? But, no way... not even in your wildest dreams. You wanted money desperately, and I showed you how to get it. Now, it's up to you to Survive on your own. Understand?' The

threat in the dealer's voice scared Prem. From then on he became very cautious. There were nearly two thousand pushers in Madras city alone... and none would come forward to save the other in case of police raid or some other problem.

He started following the dealer's instructions carefully. Everyday a new place. Never the same place for two consecutive days.

Prem realised that it was a dangerous world, with no room for emotions and sentiments. Money was everything and the fittest survived.

A squirrel nearby attracted Prem's attention.

‘A waiter came up to him. Do you want anything to eat?'

Prem looked at his watch...ten to eleven. Time to leave. Before that let me have some sweet. He ordered a gulab jamun. The fact that business was dull kept nagging Prem. Of course, he knew the reason. Students interested in trying brown sugar, seriously or for fun, were not buying because the exams had started in many colleges in the city.

The waiter returned with the gulab jamun.

Prem paid the bill and looked across. He was taken by surprise. Appu came running up to him. 'How are you, Prem?’

‘I'm fine, can't you see?'

"It's been a long time since I saw you, Prem. You've not been coming to college."

"Yes. It's been more than a month since I set foot in that place. How are you, Appu?"

"I'm ok. How about you? I wanted to come over to your place to see you, but you had told me once that if I was your friend then I should not visit you or tell anyone anything about you even if asked. So I just kept away."

'Good. Let me leave now.'

Appu caught hold of Prem.

'Don't go, Prem. Why this hurry? Stay for a while. Do you know how many days you all have bunked classes? The University exams are starting next week.'

"So?"

"What kind of an answer is this, Prem? What will you tell your folks this time?"

Prem pulled his hand away. 'Why worry about that now? When they find out, I'll think of something. Bye.'

Appu held his hand again. 'Have a coffee at least before you go.

Ok. "Will you have an ice-cream?' Prem looked at Appu surprised. 'Do you have money?"

A little.

'How come?'

There was a wedding in the family last week. I got 25 rupees as a gift. There's still some left. I came here to get some packets.

'Oh! Still a packet person, eh?'

'What to do! To spend two rupees a day for grass is difficult. Anyway, I'll treat you today. You've treated me so many times.'

Prem could not refuse the affectionate invitation.

When Appu took out his wallet to pay, Prem let out a long low whistle. He could

see couple of hundred rupee notes inside.

‘You've become a millionaire, Appu?'

‘Wish I had. My mother deposits a monthly sum at the jeweller's shop. As she was busy today, she sent me. We have our study holidays now, you know.'

‘How much?’

"Two hundred."

Prem's mouth watered. His palms itched to get hold of that money, At 40 rupees a gram, five grams for 200 rupees. Prem had not been able to sell even four grams in the last four days. Only a fool will let this chance slip by.

He didn't care two hoots about the trouble he would cause Appu and his family if he took away that money. All he could see before him was five precious grams of heroin.

Even before one full minute elapsed, his brain worked out a scheme to trick Appu into parting with the money. He took out two smack filled cigarettes, one for himself and one for Appu.

"Smoke smack?"

Appu was frightened.

'Have one on me.’

'No Prem, I don't want to start on brown sugar.'

"Aren't you my best friend? Do you think I will do anything to harm you? It's on the house. Come on, try it."

Appu took the gift from his friend. He lighted it and puffed very slowly. "How do you feel?

Appu let out a stream of smoke. 'Great,' he said. ‘You're sure this is not grass, but smack?'

Prem nodded.

'Don't say anything, Appu. Just relax. You'll soon find that you are going through an experience you never even knew before. Just relax. Don't think of anything that might worry you. I'm your friend. I only want you to forget your troubles and beat peace.

Only peace.' His words oozed charm. Appu was lulled into closing his eyes. The

brown sugar did strange things to him.

'How do you feel?'

"I told you. It's really great."

'I have some more with me. Want to take some home and try it again?'

Appu was not so stoned that the words did not with all their sinister import.

‘But this is such expensive stuff! I can't afford it, Prem.'

'It's silly to y v about expense when your purse is filled with money.’

'Don't joke, prem. This has to be deposited today at the jeweller's shop. My mother will tear me to pieces if I don't.'

'Only if she knows, right?’

'Meaning?’

"How will your mother know whether you've paid or not?"

"No, Prem, leave me alone. I'll stay on grass. Please don't tempt me."

"Grass! Isn't this a million times more wonderful?"

‘Yes, but I just can't afford it.'

It was time to attack on another front.

'All right, dort buy any. Just lend me the money you have.'

"Oh my God, rem... what are you asking? Please."

'Why not? Wi atare friends for?'

"Please, Prem."

'It was an emergency, that's why I asked. Forget it.'

'Prem...'

He shook off the hand and got up.

'If my mother ever finds out, she'll murder me.'

'Only if she finds out. If you really want to lend me, you will. How many times have I given you 10s and 20s? You mustn't forget those times.

I'll never forget. How can I? But this money....!

"Shit, bloody shit! Who the hell wants your excuses? If you don't want to give it to me, say it directly."

Prem had made Appu cry.

Please Prem, don't talk like that. Here, take it. When will you give it back?'

Having won the battle, Prem could afford to smile. 'One week.'

"Are you sure?"

‘Yes.'

"If I had any money, I would never ask for it. But this my mother gave it."

"Don't worry, yaar, next Tuesday you'll have it back."

The money exchanged hands.

Don't you want the stuff?'

"Just give me back the money, ok?"

'Done, boss.' Prem took out a cigarette tin.

'Here, there are 10 smack smokes in this. Take it with my compliments. Prem wiped off the terminal debt with the gift.

"Bye', he said cheerfully and pushed off.

How easily he won over people and entrapped them! How well he had learnt to manipulate! But his business was still dull.

Prem went to Sam to seek his advice.

‘What do you want me to do? Sam asked, spitting betel juice almost on to Prem's foot. 'I don't know, Sam. That's why I am here for your advice.'

‘Your main problem is that you can't sell enough to buy your own quota, right?'

'More or less.'

'I feel sorry for you. I'll let you in on a trade secret. Make sure you don't tell anyone else.’

'Not a soul.'

"Adulterate."

'Adulterate?'

"Exactly, Take out half the brown sugar, mix it with some other powder exactly the same colour and the same texture. I could do the same and mint money. But I haven't had the need to so far."

What a wonderful person Sam was to let him in on such a neat Secret!

He could survive. He first started mixing distemper and burnt out agarinthi ashes. But that was not authentic enough. He found rat poison perfect instead. He plied his trade everywhere. Soon school and college students became his customers.

***

Adulteration

While brown sugar addicts and the general public need to understand and appreciate the impact and after-effects of the drug, they also need to learn about the genesis of adulterated drugs as well.

Peddlers who enter the trade to make quick money mix a shocking variety of additives with the drug to increase their profits.

The practice of mixing agarbatti ashes and 'Snowcem' powder with the drug is a thing of the past.

The common practice now is to mix datura seed powder, zinc powder and rat poison powder, which are extremely poisonous in nature.

When I first heard about this, I was shocked out of my wits. When I confronted Ramesh, a drug peddler, and asked him how he could think of selling such poison, his answer came in the form of a careless laugh, posed with a blank face.

Chapter 17

It was a Sunday morning in the middle of the summer break. His prospective customers would not be there before 11. He was in no mood to do anything else.

He realised it was already 10.30 and got up.

Two days ago, he had gone to Sam and bought 10 grams from him. He locked himself in the bathroom, took out the rat poison and made a 50:50 mixture. Making up half-gram packets, he sealed them one by one and hid them under his clothes.

He has sold 10 packets till now and had just 10 left to peddle. He Wrapped them in a handkerchief. He took out the cigarettes he had prepared for himself with the unadulterated stuff and the smack kit.

All three went into the bottom of the sling bag. He threw a few books on top of his hidden treasure.

He went downstairs, slipping on his Kolhapuris and slinging his bag over his left shoulder.

His father was right there. His father was rarely at home ever since he became the Director of his company four months back. When he was not in town, there

were Rotary meetings to attend, gettogethers at the club, parties at friend's houses.

To his father, Sunday was a rest day. He would leave for an hour's swim at the club. After breakfast he would settle down with his friends, gossip and enjoy a beer session.

What was he doing at home on a Sunday morning? His father's thoughtful expression made Prem rather uneasy. He planned to make a quiet exit through the back door. While sneaking out, he heard his name.

'Oh, hi, Dad. I didn't see you. Good morning.’

"It didn't seem to be such a good morning for his father. By the look on his face, it was not going to be such a good one for Prem either.

"Did you get up just now?"

"Oh, no, I've been up for quite some time."

'Since when?'

'Quite early.'

'Where are you going?'

This unexpected meeting and grilling gave Prem no time to web a perfect lie.

‘I'm going to the library.'

'Which library, Prem?'

'USIS.’

Today is Sunday. The USIS isn't open.

'Sorry, I meant the British Council.’

Halfway through the sentence he realised he had made another blunder. The British Council too was closed on Sundays.

He dared not look at his father. He let his eyes wander towards the garden.

"Prem..."

'Prem! Look at me. What's the matter with you?'

"Nothing"

'If there's nothing wrong with you, look into my eyes and answer. Why do you look like a frightened woman?'

Madhavan strode towards him, angrily. 'I shouldn't really compare you to a woman because I will be doing injustice to the two women in this house.

‘Prem continued to look down. His father grew more furious. 'Can't you answer me? What's wrong with you?'

'I told you, Appa, nothing.'

His voice had risen a bit. It was certainly not a tone he ever used with his father.

'If there's nothing wrong with you, why do you look so sick? You look as though you haven't had a bath for weeks. Dressed like a beggar. And that hippie hair. It's disgusting. I'm ashamed to tell anyone you're my son.'

He was totally indifferent to his father's comments. He was well beyond that stage. But the last bit warranted a reply. Prem felt he could not let him get away with that.

"Then don't."

'What? What did you say?'

Madhavan felt as if the boy had slapped him.

"You rascal, say that once again."

His furious tone brought in Revathi running.

"Madhu, what happened? What's wrong?"

There's nothing wrong with me, Revathi. It's your son who's gone berserk. Ask him.

Revathi went up to Prem. 'What happened, Prem?’ What did you do to make your father so angry?

"There was no answer. She turned to her husband. 'At least you tell me what happened."

‘Madhavan had collapsed on the sofa. He held his head between his hands. Revathi was scared. Madhu, what's this?'

'I told you last night something was wrong with Prem. That I would talk to him this morning. That's why I didn't go to the club. I knocked on his door at eight. There was no answer. I thought I'd let him sleep on as it was a holiday. At 10.30 he strolls down and tells me he was up early. Lies... needless lies. Now, he's going to the library on a Sunday morning! Lies and more lies. Doesn't a father have the right to pull up his son? I asked him why he looked like a hippie beggar and said I was ashamed to call him my son. Do you know what he tells me?'

"Madhavan almost choked. His voice cracked. Then don't, Prem said, 'don't tell anyone I'm your son. We've spoilt and pampered him too much. That's the trouble. That's why he talks like this now.' Madhavan lay back panting. He looked as if he was about to have a stroke. Revathi looked at her husband and her unrepentant son. She soothed her husband, signalling to Prem to keep quiet. 'Don't get excited, Madhu. Prem didn't realise what he was saying. I'll ask him to apologise. Is this any reason to make yourself ill?"

She turned to Prem. "Prem, you had no business talking to your father like that. He meant well. Don't you realise it was for your own good?"

Prem looked at the clock. It was already five minutes to 11. His customer who might buy at least two or three grams of brown sugar may be waiting for him at the park. He had to hurry up and somehow get away from here. He would do anything for it.

"Sorry, Amma," he mumbled and turned to go.

‘Revathi came and hugged him. 'I know my son is a good boy. Don't upset your father like this again.'

‘Amma, I have to go. Bye.'

Madhavan barred his way. You still haven't told me where you are going.

'Oh, hell. But this was not the time to antagonise him. He smiled at him. 'I was thinking of something else when I told you I was going to the library, Appa. I'm going to meet Gurumurthy.'

‘Which Gurumurthy?'

"He's an IIT student. He's just taken the GMAT exams and has promised me his books.'

‘Prem hardly linked like a candidate for the GMAT. His father looked at him top to toe. 'What are those books in the bag?'

'Library book’

Madhavan te kthe bag from Prem. He pulled out one book at a time. Prem froze with fear Madhavan was about to lift the last when then the phone rang. He gave the books back to Prem and went to answer the phone.

‘Hello, Reddy. Yes, I . We'll be there. Thank you.' He kept the receiver down and turned to Prem. 'Sit down. I want to talk to you.'

Now what?

‘Appa, I have to meet Guru at 11.'

'Where?'

He was about to say the Drive-in but changed his mind. 'At his house.’

"Doesn't matter. Sit down. The sky won't fall if you are 10 minutes late."

Prem sat.

‘Your mother and I have been worrying about you for quite some time now, Prem. There's something wrong with you, but we don't know what. You aren't much help either. You lock yourself in your room for hours. You say you are studying, but we have no way of judging how well you are doing. You don't seem to be writing any tests in your college. You have told your mother that your college docsn't conduct any tests. What kind of a college is this? Last semester you missed your exams because of the accident. Prem, we want you to study hard, do well and get into an MBA. Your odd behaviour in the last few months has really worried us. You have a strange group of friends. As a matter of fact, I'm planning to meet your Professor and find out how you have been doing.'

This just wouldn't do.

‘Appa, I don't like your total disbelief in everything I say. I don't like it one bit.'

It's not the question of not believing you, Prem. It's our duty, as your parents to see that you do not get into bad ways,' Revathi said. She had barely finished when Prem said, 'Shit, bloody shit.'

Madhavan shouted, 'Did you hear what your son said, Revathi? Is this the way to talk to parents? He should learn from Sandhya. She's done so well in college and is now at the NCC camp. I feel so proud when I think of her. But this fellow...!

Prem was not going to take any more of this. He walked to the front door in four quick strides, and turning to them said, 'Shit, bloody shit again. Keep Sandhya and disown me. You can forget that you had a son. I'm happy as I am.'

He walked out slamming the door, leaving his father and mother stock-still.

Prem had to pull himself together. He took out a smack stuffed cigarette, and smoked it till he became calmer. One of his occasional customers walked up to him. 'Have you heard about Kamali?'

Prem was not going to answer such a stupid question. Which Kamali and what was he supposed to have heard? The boy did not expect a reply either. He continued. 'Overdose. She's been itted to hospital.'

‘Prem's eyebrows went up. When?'

"Luckily her father found her in time. She was itted last evening, but they'll know whether she'll pull through only after 24 hours. By the way, were you the one who sold her the stuff?' What had an overdose got to do with his selling?’

"What? Why?"

"Her friends were saying that she went into a coma not because of overdose, but due to intake of adulterated stuff. Her friends were threatening to finish you off."

Prem stood still not knowing what to do. Fifteen minutes later, his body began to shake as though he had had a malarial attack. He had been supplying adulterated stuff to Kamali for a long time, and nothing had happened. But what now all of a sudden?

Police. Arrest. Jail. With no smack, cold turkey. His father was going to see his Professor tomorrow. He saw only one way out. He must not be found tomorrow. He must do something. He went to Sam.

I've found a gold mine, Sam Give me 20 grams,' he said. He waited till it was dark and went home after he was sure his parents had left for the party.

He stuffed his air bag with whatever he could lay his hands on. He went to his mother's bedroom, took the cupboard keys from under the pillow and took all the

cash he could find. He left a note saying, 'Don't look for me. Leave me alone, please,' and walked out of his home.

***

Kamali

The story of Kamali, who has been introduced to the readers in this chapter, is indeed a sorry one. Born into a good family, she was a well-mannered girl. Fate alone can be blamed for the girl being introduced to brown sugar.

Kamali was in love with Sundar, her aunt's son. He was a final year student of medicine who had become a heroin addict. She was determined to save him from the grip of drug abuse. She resisted him everytime he tried to test her love for him by asking her to smoke a drug filled cigarette but gave in at a weak moment. She became a brown sugar addict in the days that followed.

Kamali is the fictitious reflection of the real life of Madhavi, a girl from Mumbai. She became an addict herself in the process of trying to rescue her boyfriend, a drug addict. Once when she found herself without money to buy brown sugar, she sold her body for money. When she realized what she had done, she was consumed with shame and, to prevent herself from repeating the same, she committed suicide.

The story of Sara is quite similar. She continues to sell her body even today to'finance' her drug addiction. Being on a drug induced 'high' is her only goal in life!

Chapter 18

They were driving back from the party.

Revathi hadn't spoken a word since they got into the car.

'What's the matter, Revathi? Even Reddy noticed you were not yourself.'

‘Mr Atma told me that you were looking rather low.’

Madhavan was silent for a minute. 'Revathi, I'm very upset.’

‘I feel the same, Madhu.'

'It's about Prem, right?’

Revathi nodded.

‘You think I was too hard on him today?'

Revathi didn't answer.

"Both of us have noticed a change in Prem in the last few months. You haven't really sat down and discussed with him. I've been away from home quite often. It's been work, work, and work. When I wanted to talk to him, you said no. But I feel guilty for having neglected our home and family, for you to shoulder so much of the responsibility. Today was only the culmination of all this tension and worry."

‘Revathi held his hand. Madhu, there's no need to get so upset. After all he is your son and you have every right to pull him up.'

"But didn't you hear what he said? He doesn't seem to care at all."

"Don't take what he says to heart, Madhu. He is still a child."

'No, Revathi, I don't agree with you. His words didn't strike me as those of a child being spiteful. Did you see his face when he talked to me? The hatred in his eyes was too obvious to be missed. I was shocked.'

What Madhavan said was true.

‘Where did we go wrong, Revathi? What happened?'

She was equally ignorant.

"What have we not done for him that he has gone away from us?"

"Maybe we are letting our imaginations run wild. This evening Mrs Reddy was almost in tears as she told me about her daughter."

‘What about her?'

The eldest one, Radhika.

"Brilliant girl. She topped in architecture."

"That's what is the problem now. With her first class she's in a good job with an excellent salary."

"Why is that a problem?"

'It is. It's barely three months since she started working. She wants to move out and live by herself.'

‘By herself? You mean before her marriage?'

"She doesn't want to get married now. She says, 'I am, earning enough to run my own place. I want to be independent. Mrs Reddy says she is adamant."

‘I can't believe it! Radhika?'

She's already found a flat. Her mother was close to tears. But all said and done, she's being very sensible. She says that we should realise that once the child is grown up he will want to lead his own life.

'Nonsense. A 22-year old unmarried girl, allowed to live alone? The Reddys must have taken leave of their senses.'

"Madhu, the times are changing. Your expectations for your children will never be the same as their own for themselves.’

‘Are you saying that if Sandhya wants to live by herself tomorrow you'll say yes?'

‘I don't know. I can't answer a hypothetical question. All I'm saying is don't use the same yardstick to judge by which your parents did. The generation gap is not just a catchphrase. It exists. Perhaps if parents and children can talk to each other, the gap might lessen. Who knows?'

‘All that is fine in theory. But in practice? Haven't you tried more than once to talk to Prem? And did you succeed? I tried a few times too, but it never worked.

The way he looks and dresses! Revathi, you know what I actually feel like doing? Give him two hard slaps, get his hair trimmed, make him bathe using a whole cake of Dettol soap and make him wear clean washed clothes.'

They reached home. The house was in total darkness except for a solitary bulb burning outside. They opened the door and went in. Sandhya was not there, so her room was not lit. But Prem?

What was the time? It was not late. They had excused themselves from the party early. It was only 10. It was too early for Prem to sleep. His light was always on till late at night, the music loud enough to wake up the neighbours.

Revathi went to see if Prem had had his dinner. The food was untouched. Prem had left home at 11 in the morning. Had he still not come back?

Should she wake up the cook and ask her? But the cook was not so easy to wake. She was not like their old servant. He would wait till all of them had eaten. This one would serve them if they came in before nine. Else the food was left on the table, for them to help themselves.

Should she go up to Prem's room and see? After this morning's showdown, perhaps it was better not to.

Madhavan had already changed into his pyjamas. 'Has he slept already?’

'I didn't want to knock and wake him up in case he had slept.’

'Let him sleep. God knows what time he returned.'

The cook is asleep too. I didn't ask her when he got back. He hasn't had dinner though. Everything is still there on the table. Perhaps that's his way of showing us he's still annoyed.' Revathi was troubled. I'm scared, Madhu. I don't know what to do.'

'I know how you feel.'

"I've been trying to figure it out. Is it just teenage trouble or our fault?"

"Children are so difficult to understand these days."

‘So should we let this continue?'

"No, not at all. But let us not tax ourselves too much with this. I'll go and see his Professor tomorrow, early in the morning."

Revathi cut in. That's what made him so angry in the first place. That we didn't trust him, and wanted to meet his Professor.

"So, do you want me to go and see him or not?"

Revathi couldn't answer. Her stomach was churning with a nameless fear.

She waited till eight the next morning for Prem to come down. There was no sign of him. She went up and knocked. But he did not respond. She decided to give him half an hour more.

Madhavan had left at seven thirty for the airport. His German collaborators had to be received and taken to the hotel before he went to work to prepare for the discussion he would have with them

'Give me a call once he is up and let me know how he is. I'll reach office by eight thirty.'

She went up again at eight thirty and knocked at Prem's door. Still no answer. Was he still fast asleep? Revathi wondered.

She leant against the door and it opened a bit. Prem was not inside the room. Perhaps as he was in the bathroom? The room was in a shambles. Open 1 cupboard, things all over. Even by Prem's standards, the room was a disaster. The bathroom door was wide open. He was there either.

She was not just worried but terrified. 'Where could he have gone? I was up at six. Could he have left the house before that? They all had separate keys to facilitate their various timings.

Prem? Before six o'clock?

She went into the kitchen. "Did you see Prem go out this morning?' she asked the cook. The cook had not seen Prem leave the house.

'What time did he get back last night?'

"At about seven. And within ten minutes he went out with his bag.’

It must have been the sling bag, Revathi presumed.

It was twelve clock. Prem hadn't returned. He had eaten nothing yesterday. Where could he have gone? She rang up Madhavan, 'Prem seems to have gone out at seven last night. He still hasn't come back.

‘Did you try intacting any of his friends?'

I tried calling up Bharat. But there was no reply. Perhaps they've all gone out somewhere?

'Go to his room and look out for some details of his friends among his books. Try all of them. Whom did he say he was going to meet yesterday? Oh, yes, Gurumurthy. See if you can get hold of his number or address.’

Looking through his drawers, Revathi came across a few unfamiliar objects. What could these be? Silver foils, four packets marked Rat Poison. She had not slept the last night. Sick with worry, she was about to collapse. She cleared the chair and sat down.

Who was this enigma who was her son? She stared blindly at the wall. Suddenly a fluttering piece of white paper caught her attention. She ran and picked it up.

"I'm leaving home. Don't look for me. Leave me alone. Please."

Nothing ed the first time she read it. But the second time...

The words seared themselves into her brain. Prem's handwriting. He has written this note. No doubt about it.

'Oh God! Help me.’

She took the note and ran downstairs.

Leave me alone. He had said the same thing yesterday. Her hands were trembling. She managed to dial Madhavan's number with great difficulty.

Revathi just broke down listening to the voice on the other end. Madhavan could hear only her heart-rending sobs. All she managed was, 'Prem... Prem...

"Revathi, what happened? Tell me quickly."

'Prem has run away.’

"She couldn't believe her own ears. Can this happen? Has my darling son really left us and gone away leaving a note saying Don't look for me? What did we do that made him do this?"

She kept the receiver down. She didn't wait to hear Madhavan say that he was coming home. Sobs shook her. She covered her mouth with the end part of sari and wept helplessly.

***

Addiction Researchers list out a few symptoms to identify these brown sugar addicts

a) A change in the eating and sleeping pattern.

b) Lack of appetite.

c) Avoiding old friends.

d) Greater desire for sweets.

e) Quick change of moods.

f) Stammering or hoarsening of voice.

g) Restless and agitated. Some can even be ferocious.

h) Quick loss of body weight.

i) Body itching D) Being aloof and alone. Money and expensive items tend to go missing at home.

Chapter 19

Madhavan was baffled. "If he was that touchy, he should have come home on time,' he snapped angrily at Revathi.

He couldn't understand Prem's ways. Where had all his ambitions gone-of going to Wimbledon, of becoming a singing sensation?

He could have done those things at least, even though they had wanted him to excel in school and college. But shouldn't he have excelled in something? What had he done during the last six months? Broken the guts of the tennis racket and the strings of the guitar. That seemed to be the sum total of his achievement.

Why does he think I lost my temper? Only for his good. No matter what he thinks, I do have the benefit of age and experience and know right and wrong better than he does. Knowing it well if I don't guide him, that will be a sin. If a cow strays, isn't it the cowherd who brings it back to the herd?

"Damn it,' he shouted, 'I should not have listened to you. He's a child you went on saying, Just give him time and he'll grow out of it'. If I had boxed his ears and said, 'You rascal, who do you think you are, and what do you think you're doing? Behave yourself or Iwon't be responsible for the consequences,' he would have been all right. Times have changed, you said. 'We must not put too tight a leash on our children. We must give them time and space to find their own way'. Do you see the way he has found? Just one word from me and he's packed his bag and taken off. Don't look for him, indeed. Where the hell does he think he can go? With no moneynot even for his next meal! Is he going to beg on the streets?

Who taught him to talk like this and behave like this? We've lived 18 years in the same house and now I find I don't know the first thing about him. If I hadn't read the note, I would refuse to believe he's gone away. I would think he's spending the night at a friend's place. Even after reading the note, I find it hard to believe. Has he done this just to scare us or has he really left us forever? I don't know what to think.'

What started off as a thunder ended with a whimper. As his anger spent itself, Madhavan found the grim reality staring at his face, His son was missing, and they had no clue where he was.

He dropped on to the bed, pressing his hands tight against his temples. He closed his eyes hoping this would turn out to be just a bad dream.

"But there was Revathi who was in a worse state than him. He comforted his wife. I'm sorry,' he said, his voice choking. Forgive my ranting. We have to think rationally. We cannot let our emotions prevent us from doing what's sensible and logical."

They thought hard. Only to realise they knew little, about Prem and his friends after he left school.

Where should they begin? Should they go out and start searching, or wait in the hope that he would come back at night, once he had cooled off? If they were going to search, where to look? The college was closed, there was no point going there. Friends' houses?

They knew only Appu and Bharat. Who were his other friends? Were there any

at all other than these two?

They could again try ing Bharat. But suppose he was not in town? Or perhaps the telephone was on the blink? They did not know his address.

Appu? They did not know where he lived either. Whom could they ask? It was their fault that they had not even bothered to keep track of Prem's friends. Their helplessness made Revathi dissolve into tears again.

"Revathi, shhh, don't cry. Crying is not going to help. Let us think now what to do next."

"Madhu, it's a yearsince Prem started college. And we know nothing about his friends, where they live. When I think of that..."

"Past is past. Think of what we should do now."

"Perhaps Sandhya knows some of them. Shall we ring her up and ask?"

‘She's in a remote village. It will be late in the night by the time we try and get to her. Instead, I will send my dealer with the car and have her picked up.'

'What reason will you tell the dealer?'

'We will say it's urgent. We don't have to give the details.’

‘I don't want to worry her like this. Anyway she'll be back in a couple of days.'

‘A couple of days! Do you think we can sit idle for even two hours, leave alone two days?'

Just wait for Sandhya to come. Hope she can tell us something. Be practical

She realised that Sandhya was their only hope. She might know more about his friends than they did.

They booked a call to the village. Knowing that even an urgent call would take a minimum of two hours, Madhavan left for the Professor's house while Revathi waited at home.

First he had to find out where the Professor lived. Thank God the college office was open. He charmed the clerk into giving him the addresses of the Professor, the Economics and Statistics lecturers and Bharat and Appu.

First he went to the Economics lecturer's apartment. Three floors up, and no lift. The house was locked. The neighbour told him that he had gone on a two-week vacation.

Next in the list was Professor Raj.

'Prem's father? Which Prem? Oh, the boy who used to be with Appu and Bharat? I haven't been to college for the last eight weeks. Didn't Prem tell you? I was suffering from jaundice and it relapsed." He spoke at length about his treatment with three different doctors.

Fifteen minutes and it finally ed that Madhavan was fidgeting. "Look at me. I've been only talking about myself. Forgot to ask why you have come here."

He was equally ignorant. So no use asking him anything. He murmured something about being in the neighborhood and wanting to find out how the Professor was doing, and made good his escape.

One more Professor to go. Hope this at least proves lucky.

Good omen. The door was open.

"Hello, Sir. I'm Madhavan, Prem's father. He is a first year student in your college. Why did his face darken at this?"

‘Yes?'

Madhavan winced hearing Professor's sharp voice.

"I'm so sorry to trouble you. I came to enquire about my son. How has he been in the college, how has he done in his exams?"

"It's taken you quite some time to interest yourself in your son's studies, Mr Madhavan. I've been sending note after note asking you to meet me."

The blank look of Madhavan said it all.

"So you didn't get any of them. I'm sorry. Last time, Prem did not write his exams because he had an accident. This time he could not, because of insufficient attendance. Did you know that?"

'What?'

Yes. Since Professor Hussain was down with jaundice, I've been taking his classes for the last two months. I've hardly seen him. When I asked the others none of them were able to give me a proper answer. They probably didn't know anyway. He doesn't mix with anybody. He's in a dream world of his own all the time. Even if one goes by his performance when he has attended, it's not that great. Unless he attends the lectures regularly, how can he be expected to understand anything? We sent a letter from the Department at the beginning of the term asking you to come and see us. No response. When I asked Prem, he said you were on tour and very busy. Don't mistake me, Mr Madhavan. I agree work is important, but it is never more important than your children's welfare. You cannot be so busy that you have no time to find out your son's progress in a way. Even assuming you did not have the time, your wife could have come. It's not like the old days when the mother never left the house and it was only the father who was responsible for outside affairs. Thanks to your indifference, Prem has lost a whole year. You can only hope that that's all he has lost. I'm telling you all this because I feel it is my duty. The students who attend our classes are our

responsibility too.

I have heard that Prem has got into a lot of bad habits including drugs. Don't look so shocked, Mr Madhavan. It is as difficult for me to tell you this as it is for you to listen. But I am not only a Professor. Tam also a father of three. If my children went astray, I would hope some good Samaritan would tell me early enough for them to be helped. I hope I have told you this in time to help your son.

So much had happened! Madhavan dragged himself back to the car and sat there unable to move.

Prem using drugs? An ab or an addict? Such a young boy! My son! How did he get into this habit? Who showed him this way to hell?

He managed to start the car and drive home slowly. He mustered some courage and told Revathi what the Professor had told him.

All she could do was weep.

It was late in the evening when Sandhya's call came through. They told her to take the next train home and if asked to say that her mother was sick.

They went to Bharat's house. A servant was sitting outside the locked house.

There's no onr home, he said.

'Where have gone? Do you know when they'll be back?'

I don't know

'Has Bharat gone with them?'

The servant hesitated a bit, but a tenner set it right.

‘Sir, the young master was very sick. So his grandfather, my master, called his father to come to India. He came here last week, itted his son to hospital, sent my master and his mistress to their village, and went back.'

"What's wrong with Bharat?"

The servant hesitated.

'Don't worry. Tell us!’

'I don't know ictly, but they were saying that he had gone mad because he h aken all kinds of tablets.'

'Bharat? Magh, dear God, no.'

They moved to meet Appu wondering what was in store for them at Appu's house.

Appu was standing outside. They didn't have to tell him why they had come looking for him at that hour of night. It was not hard to guess.

***

Then and Now

When I visited America in 1970, two events took place in quick succession shaking up their entire society quite badly. Two children, aged sixteen and fourteen, committed suicide within the space of ten days, unable to kick their addiction to drugs.

They had left almost identical suicide notes that reduced the viewers to tears when they were read out on television.

The children had exhorted drug addicts to kick the habit before they reached a point of no return. They warned them that the dealers never used the drugs themselves. They wanted to know why children like them should become victims, putting their own families and friends to distress, so that these dealers could make big money and lead happy lives with their own families. They

wanted their deaths to be lessons that would inspire drug addicts to try and kick the habit and pleaded with all the addicts to pull themselves out of the quagmire of drug abuse.

I vividly recall American mothers talking to me about the dangers of drug addiction and asking me if India faced the threat of drug abuse. I had then arrogantly denied it, saying that the close knit social fabric, the bonding within families and between friends, and the respect for elders would ensure that our country would be protected from the drug menace. How wrong I was!

Chapter 20

Appu, please tell us.

Appu's mother was standing there, eyebrows raised, a question on her lips. What could he tell them with his mother standing beside?

"What do you want me to tell you?' he asked, clearing his throat and wetting his lips."

‘I've just told you, Appu. Tell me all you know about Prem.'

'What can I tell you about him that you don't know?'

Madhavan was not a very patient man at the best of times. 'Appu, can't you understand the torture we are going through? And when I ask you to tell me about him, you still ask what'?'

Revathi could see that this attitude of his was not going to get them anywhere. Madhavan's high-handed way of talking had only increased Appu's nervousness.

'Madhu, don't shout. Can't you see you're making the poor boy nervous?'

‘She turned to Appu. Please help us, Appu. We came to ask you if what the Professor told us about Prem is true. About his not attending classes and not being able to write the exams because of insufficient attendance. Is it true?'

'Appu, anything you tell us will help us understand Prem better, Please tell us whatever you know.'

Revathi's voice cracked with the strain. But little did she know that she was speaking to someone who had lost all interest in the world. All he needed was grass and he was content to let the world go to hell for all he cared. Whether it was the terrified mother's pleadings or the arrogant father's cringing-he didn't care a hoot. It was not his problem. Why did they try to them on to him? It was their son who was missing. So go to the police. Why come to me? 'Let me be! he cried silently. All I want to do right now is smoke a t.

But it was not going to be easy to get rid of these leeches.

‘Appu, please...!’

The two were still begging.

‘What do you want me to tell you?' He was no more frightened. His voice was filled with anger and irritation.

‘How can you ask such a question? Didn't you just hear us tell you that Prem has

left the house?'

'I heard, but what do you want me to do about it?'

'We are not asking you to do anything. Just tell us what you know.'

‘I don't know anything.'

Appu's mother was surprised. Was it her meek Appu who was talking this way to the troubled visitors?

'What do you mean you don't know anything? Everyday it was one long list of Prem did this and Prem said that. And now? Tell them everything you know. Don't keep back anything. Can't you see they have come here pinning all their hopes on you and your information?'

Don't think you are tattling on your friend,Revathi held his hand. ‘We desperately need your help. Please. Is it true that he has not been attending college?'

Appu nodded reluctantly.

'Exams?'

'I don't think he wrote all of them.’

‘You mean to say you don't know for sure?'

‘Madhavan's tone sent Appu into a tailspin. No, no, not think. I know.'

The irritation in his tone had vanished. He was embarrassed that they were asking him all these questions in front of his mother and sisters.

If they are worried about Prem, I have my own worries too. Who was going to answer all the questions my mother would ask after they left? I don't want to be the fall guy. Why the hell don't they just leave?

He first wanted to somehow send them away as soon as possible before they did any further damage.

‘Aunty, the news that Prem has left the house has shocked me too. That's why I couldn't answer your questions properly. Prem has another good friend. I'll see him and tell you what he says.'

'Come, Appu, come with us in the car. We'll go there straight.’

Appu hesitated "What did you say the friend's name was?"

"Bharat."

'Bharat? Then you don't know about Bharat? When did you see him last?'

What about Bharat? What had happened to him, Appu thought in alarm.

‘He's been itted to an asylum.'

Bharat? Gone mad?

'Bharat's servant told us that as he was into taking all kinds of pills, he had become mentally deranged. Bharat was a drug addict. Did you know that?

Revathi had not the guts to ask if Prem too was a drug addict. By enquiring about Bharat, she was trying indirectly to find out about Prem's habits. Would Appu be able to answer her linasked queries about Prem? She couldn't take any more of this. She broke into nerve-wracking sobs.

‘Savitri, Appu's mother, ran to her. Don't worry, Mrs Madhavan. Your son will be all right. He must have just gone somewhere to spend the night.'

"Turning to Appu, she said, 'Can't you think of any other friends whom you can ask about Prem? There must be. Think. Don't you See how upset Prem's mother is? Don't just stand there. Do something."

‘Amma, it's already eight o'clock. By the time we try and locate the houses it will be too late. I'll go first thing in the morning and then will tell Uncle what I have found out.'

‘This made sense to Madhavan. It was late after all. Appu is right. It will be futile to go round this late. Come Revathi, let's go. Sorry, Mrs Venkat, for giving you so much trouble. Please ask Appu to go and see his other friends tomorrow.'

‘I'll send him at six sharp. He will then come to your house. If there is anything else we can do, please let us know. I don't think you should worry. Prem will surely turn up soon.'

When they were almost home Madhavan turned to Revathi. I just got an idea. Shall we go and see Muthukrishnan?'

'Who? The DIG?'

It's been more than 24 hours since Prem left home. We shouldn't pin all our hopes on his friends. We should get some police help too

‘But the news will spread.'

‘That's why I thought of Muthu. He will know how to manage it without letting the whole world know about it.'

They were lucky to find him at home. They gave the bare details. Said Prem had some problems in college and left the house because he had not written his exams. They appealed to him to try and find him without making too much of a fuss. Muthukrishnan promised to do his best.

They went home and fetched a recent photograph of Prem and gave it to him. The DIG promised to search all over the city before trying other places, and issue an ment in the papers if necessary.

Madhavan and Revathi spent the whole night in Prem's room looking for some clue to where he had gone and how he would have done it. They found nothing.

His clothes were taken out one by one, the pockets searched, bags unzipped. Each book was held upside down and shaken thoroughly. No piece of paper fell out. Cupboards were opened and drawers examined. Nothing.

They then moved to the waste paper basket. It too was stuffed with lot of things as the room. A broken razor blade, a bit of shoelace, scraps of paper and a crumpled ball of newspaper.

The newspaper cutting had the headlines 'Mushrooms in Kodaikanal'. It made no sense, so it was thrown back into the waste paper basket.

'Any luck?'

'Nothing. No addresses which might be useful, no phone numbers we could try.’

'What next?'

‘I swear Revathi, I cannot see where I went wrong.'

"Do you honestly and truly believe that Prem has left us forever?"

‘It's hard to believe, but...'

‘I'm scared out of my wits, Madhu. Where could he have gone?'

Madhavan was scared himself. He had no more comfort to give. He went downstairs and poured himself a stiff Scotch and soda. He was about to take the first sip when the Professor's words rang in his ears. 'I hesitate to tell you, but I must. I hear Prem takes drugs.

Only drugs or does he drink too? Madhavan's Scotch remained untasted.

A flashback of Prem's childhood came to him. He was a broded modern parent. Prem was allowed to sit up late, and to meet his friends. And while they were enjoying a drink, the little boy was often allowed to sip his father's beer or whisky or whatever he happened to be drinking at the time. His friend's approval of the way he was bringing up his son had made Madhavan proud. How many fathers would be that broded!

Was that the beginning? His heart ached. Is it my fault then?

He bit his lips and tried to control his tears. But to no avail. He put his head down on the dining table and sobbed his heart out.

***

From the Clutches of Death

Actor Sunjay Dutt, the only son of legendary actors, the late Nargis Dutt and Sunil Dutt, once gave an interview to a magazine. It was titled, ‘From the clutches of death'. I would like to reproduce excerpts of that interview here.

Q: Who do you think is responsible for your falling into the drug trap?

Sanjay: I blame myself alone. It was out of sheer curiosity that I first tried drugs but I soon found myself addicted to them. I refused to listen to the voice of reason and started believing that drugs alone were my world. Who else can I blame but myself?

Q: What was your state of mind once you became a drug addict?

Sanjay: I lost all human emotions and remained lost in the world of drugs

day and night.

Q: What kind of efforts did you make initially to give up drugs?

Sanjay: Once I found myself hooked to drugs, I thought consuming alcohol excessively would drown out the habit, and so, I started drinking heavily. The net result was that I became an alcoholic as well. I did not realize then that the difference was simply that drugs would man quickly while alcohol was like slow poison.

Q: Then?

Sanjay: I Osced between overdoses of alcohol and drugs and lost my physial and mental health as a result. I would not wish that state on even my worst enemy. Q: What uns your relationship with your family like during that time? Sanjay: It was very bad. I refused to meet or speak to my father. I behaved like a man possessed.

Q: How did you finally kick the habit?

Sanjay: It is not possible to give up drugs gradually. It is best to make a clean break. I broke away from that hell by improving my own mental strength, by taking the advice of doctors, and with the love and of elders.

Q: What is your pinion about drug dealers?

Sanjay: These ople are far worse than murderers. They can bring about the dos fall of a man, then a family and finally an entire nation. As suh, they should be handed down the strictest and most stringent of punishments.

Chapter 21

Rocks.

Small, big, medium. Thousands of them, everywhere. Little round lumps, brown and black.

There was no place to put his foot. When he stepped on one, it Seemed to cry. As he was watching, drops of water formed on each one. Red drops. And at the same time he heard them cry in pain. Do rocks feel pain?

The rocks began to grow.

Loand behold! A mushroom. But not just one or two. Not 10 or 20. Hundreds and thousands. Huge ones. They grew so tall that it suddenly became dark.

One clung to his hands, another caught hold of his legs. The third pressed against his back. He wanted to get out of their clutches, but could not. They pressed against his face and throat. A choking sensation. He was not going to be able to breathe at all in another few seconds.

Ah..h..h..h..help, help me. Somebody help me please.

The dream left him gasping and drenched in perspiration. His heart was beating fast, it seemed it would burst any moment. His throat was parched, his tongue was dry. Terrible noises inside his brain. He sat up slowly.

'What is the use of getting up?' his tired brain and weary body demanded. 'Go back to bed.’

He was still upright though. Carefully, he took out the sling bag and emptied its contents on to the bed-one packet of brown sugar, seven cigarettes and a handful of mushrooms.

It had been four days since he had left home. He should still be having at least 10 to 20 packets left. But there was just one.

The two 'friends' who had befriended him these last two days had obviously effected a well-planned coup d'etat. Not only were the brown sugar packets missing, so was the money from his wallet.

Cindy and Peter. How friendly they were, how considerate! And now! They had not only stolen his money, but had stolen something more precious to him.

What was he going to do? How was he going to pay the hotel bill and buy his next fix for the next two days?

His brain was sluggish. Perhaps a cigarette would make it work a little better? Lying on the bed, he thought of all that had happened the last three days.

As soon as he had decided he was going to leave home, he knew exactly where he was going.

Mushrooms in Kodaikanal. When one of his customers gave him the article to read, he had been rather interested.

A variety of mushroom which grew wild had a heady effect, the article said. The same effect induced by drugs. That was why hippies in large numbers went to Kodaikanal in search of them.

A drug which was absolutely free, just there for the picking. He ed the time he wished money would grow on trees so that he could pick some to buy smack. And here was smack or something which had the same effect literally growing wild, asking to be picked.

He hadn't thought he would get a chance to try the mushrooms out so quickly. Within two days of reading the article, here he was ready to go. Free fixes. Freedom. No one whom he knew within the nearest hundred miles, Beautiful weather.

He had 700 rupees, which he had taken from his mother's cupboard, 20 grams of brown sugar, which he had taken from Sam and his Father's shawl to ward off the cold.

Who needed Paradise? If he found himself a cheap lodging house, and spent his money carefully, he could live happily for the next two months at least.

He took the night train, got off at the foothills because the train would go no further, and took a bus to the top. He was there by 10 o'clock.

I'm a free bird now, he thought. I can fly as high and as far as I want. There's no one and nothing to stop me.

He did not know where to go. T'll take my time, enjoy the cool day, relax,' he decided. He walked into the nearest teashop, had breakfast and a cup of tea. Walked up and down the street for sometime and feeling a little tired with this unwonted exercise went down to the lake and sat leaning against a tree.

It was there that he met his foreigner 'friends. A girl in a faded wrap-around, dirty bare feet and straggles of hair which hadn't seen soap or water for at least a month now.

The man with her was looking equally decrepit. Pyjamas which had been white, a T-Shirt, which might have been any colour, dark brown moustache and beard and a sling bag. The only clean thing about him was his eyes. They were beautiful, clear and blue.

Both had the same vacant look. Hippies. They were sure to know where the mushrooms could be found. He must make friends with them. He put out his half smoked cigarette, put it back inside his bag, and walked towards them.

"Hi," he said.

There was no answer. All Prem got was a cold stare.

Prem smiled. I'm Prem.

He could have been talking to the swans on the lake for all the response he got

"Are you foreigners?"

Still no reply.

"I'm also like you. I left home. I smoke smack."

"Do you? If you're looking for a free handout, chum, get lost."

No, no, you're mistaken. I don't need any brown sugar from you. I have plenty myself.

In order to make them believe him, he took out all his packets and showed them.

A low, sharp whistle gratified him.

I'm Prem,' he said once more, sure of a warmer response this time.’

‘I'm Peter. She's Cindy.'

‘Have you heard of the mushrooms and toadstools which grow wild in this place?'

There was no reply.

"Please tell me."

"Why do you want mushrooms and toadstools when you have so much brown sugar?"

'What will I do when this is over? You don't need money to eat mushrooms.’

"You mean you have no money at all?"

"Well, not exactly. I have 700 rupees."

Peter looked at Cindy and then turned back to Prem. 'Where are you going to

stay?'

I don't know yet.

'I feel sorry for you. Do you want to come and stay with us?’

Prem had no place to stay anyway, so he readily agreed.

A third rate lodge. A 10 by 10 room. A filthy mattress on a shabby charpoy. A yellowish sheet with innumerable stains. Rocklike pillows and blankets which seemed never to have been washed.

'Shall I take another room?'

Cindy seemed offended.

"Why, is there anything wrong in sharing this room with us?"

'No, no, not at all.’

"There is no special relationship between Peter and me. We are like brother and sister. Aren't we, Peter?"

Prem had no other excuse for not staying with them. He paid one third of next week's rent, and they decided that they would share whatever they had the same way. And so they did the next couple of days.

They mixed the mushrooms Peter brought with the brown sugar Prem had and smoked together in comfortable companionship. Like children they slept together in the same room without any inhibitions.

Cindy said she was from Australia. She had met Peter in Goa and after a long and restless search seemed to have found herself.

Prem seemed to have found himself too. Was this what life was all about? Peace and total contentment?

The idyll lasted just two days. Waking up at 11 o'clock, Prem found that Cindy and Peter had disappeared and with them his money, his brown sugar and even his clothes which had been hanging on the wall. His air bag was missing too.

This was what life was all about, really.

He waited in vain for Cindy and Peter, hoping against hope that they had just gone out for a short while and would soon be back.

They were not coming back. All he had left was his sling bag, 10 rupees and the clothes he was wearing. This was reality.

He came out of the room. The lodge owner called him. Your friends asked me not to wake you. They had to leave suddenly and asked me to tell you. Such a nice couple. I don't usually give my rooms to those types, but they were so prompt in their advance payment Even now they have paid up to Saturday. After that you must give me next week's rent in advance.

They had given him two days breathing time at least. After that?

He was standing on the street, wondering what he could do about it when a white Mercedes Benz went floating past. Uncle Devanathan. Appa's best friend. An Estate owner rolling in money and a regular summer visitor to the place.

He must think of a way to get him to part with some dough. He had a sudden brainwave.

He would tell him that he was the cashier for his excursion group, that he couldn't find the bag with the money, that he needed thousand rupees immediately to settle the hotel bill.

Suppose he wanted to check up with his father? He must not be allowed to do that. I can tell him that Appa would get terribly upset if he heard this on the telephone. It would be better for me to explain things once I reach home.

That should work. It had to.

Get the money and follow those thieves and get his money back. After which he would go far away to Goa or Nepal and live by himself. Never trust anyone again.

He returned to the room, shaved, bathed and did his best to look like a respectable student.

***

Drug Related Problems

I think it is important to point a few problems faced by addicts who need to remain in a constant state of 'high' at this stage.

‘Murthy, a youngster, has been a heroin addict for the past six months. Initially, he indulged in smoking and 'chasing' but this is no longer enough now. He has become a 'junkie' and mixes it in water and injects it into his veins at least three or four times a day. When he is unable to find water, he does not hesitate to use the water that is stagnant in the toilet closet. When I asked him if that was not revolting and unhygienic, he responded by shrugging his shoulders and saying, 'Death could happen at any age, at any stage'.

Mano, yet another addict, shared the experience that he gained on a trip to Mumbai. A friend of his took him to a place, assuring him of a special kind of 'high'. Those who need a greater 'high' or 'kick', resort to getting stung by scorpions or being bitten by snakes in between drug doses. Scorpion stings cost Rs 25 approximately while snake bites are charged at Rs 40. First, they tie a string around the finger and get the snake to bite them. Once they get used to

that 'high', they are ready to take the sting or the bite on the tongue. He claimed that he was shocked and scared by the spectacle. It shocked him to the point he ran away from the scene, straight to a deaddiction centre where he itted himself in an attempt to kick the habit.

Chapter 22

Amma, I'll go and look up Appu again. If Dad asks, tell him where I've gone.'

"What's the point going there again and again? If you haven't got him to tell you anything in the last two days, why do you think anything will be different today?"

'I feel it in my bones. Today is going to be different. I'll make him tell the truth. But, for that I need 500 rupees.'

"Are you going to bribe Appu, Sandhya? It won't work."

'Not bribe, Amma. I'll repay the money Prem owes him. He was bitter about it yesterday he told me that he had enough troubles not only due to the money he had lost because of Prem, but various other worries . If I return the money Prem owes him, he will realise that we were genuinely interested in his troubles as well as ours. We have o prove to him that we are not selfish.

'Madhavan came home soon after Sandhya left.’

"What did Muthukrishnan say?"

Nothing new. He has searched all the regular hangouts of the city. He even sent plainclothesmen to enquire the dealers. Not much was to be got out of them. But one of the informers had told him that he knew a boy called Prem, who used to buy drugs and sell them to others. Prem had taken 20 grams of brown sugar four days ago, and hadn't paid for it yet. So he himself was on the lookout for Prem. I'll finish him off if I catch hold of him, the dealer had threatened, but Muthu says he doesn't know how far the informer can be trusted.'

'Whether he can be believed or not is not the point. What does he mean he'll finish him off? I'm scared.'

'I had the same feeling. That's why I paid him the money for the 20 grams, and told him to it on to the dealer.'

‘But if the police know who the dealer is, why can't they lock him up?'

‘Nobody can be locked up without any evidence. Muthu was saying they hope to nab the whole gang in the next three or four days.'

"But what are they doing about finding Prem?"

'It is thought that Prem left the city to escape the dealer. Muthu wanted me to tell him about Prem's friends and his favourite places.’

"And what did you tell them?"

‘I told him I would first talk it over with you and Sandhya and let him know. By the way, where is Sandhya?'

Gone to see Appu. Do you have any idea where Prem could have gone?

Not the faintest.

‘What else did the DIG say?'

'He says it's better not to delay any further in giving a 'missing'ad in the newspaper with Prem's photograph and other relevant details. Revathi, don't cry. Please. The time for being embarrassed and ashamed is past.’

'I wasn't crying for that. It was because we don't know where Prem is and why he left. How we thought we had brought up our son well and look how he's turned out. He has ruined his life.'

Sandhya was doing her best to make Appu talk. 'Appu, there's 500 rupees in this. Take it, it's for you.

"Five hundred rupees? For me? What for?"

‘Yesterday you said you had lost a lot of money because of Prem. So I thought I'll make good what he owes.'

"May I take all of it? You won't ask for it back later?"

'I promise I won't. All I ask of you is to tell me all you know about Prem.’

‘What do you want to know?'

'Every single thing. Don't leave out even the smallest detail.'

'May I smoke? All this money is really for me?'

Yes, all the money is for you." All right, I'll tell you, but on one condition. No one must know where you got the information from, ok?"

It was easy to agree to that.

"It must have been four or five days after we ed college. It was Bharat's birthday I . There was a boy called Sunil. He called us all to his room to celebrate. We started off with champagne. Sunil then asked us if we had ever tried grass. He ed around cigarettes filled with it. That was the beginning...."

‘When Sandhya returned home her parents were waiting for her. Sandhya, what happened? We were getting worried. It's been ages since you left. What's the matter? You don't look all right. Did you manage to get anything out of Appu?'

'Everything Starting with how a boy named Sunil got Prem hooked on to smoking grass. After sometime he and Bharat tried LSD. That was when they had the accident with the Suzuki. When he went to Bangalore, a fellow called Vijay and he tried brown sugar. And before they realised they were well and truly hooked. That trip was the start of the journey to hell. When they ran short of money to buy brown sugar, they stole. When they ran short of things to steal, they started pushing. Our Prem peddled drugs. He went from street to street, comer to comer, selling brown sugar so that he could earn money to buy his own. Amma, when I heard all this I couldn't stand it anymore. I came away.'

Please, Sandhya, don't tell me any more. I don't want to hear. My little son... like this?

'Amma, Sandhya said and started to sob.’

"Sandhya, control yourself. What's happened has happened. We have to see what can be done now. Our first priority is to find Prem; then seeing how we can help him. This is not the time to sit and cry. You should be the one to console and comfort your mother," Madhavan was in control again.

"Appa, I cannot. When I think that I had the chance to nip it in the bud.... My guilt is killing me."

"Are you saying you knew Prem was taking drugs?' "No, not that. But as far back as seven or eight months ago, I sensed he was not himself. I suspected he was smoking. I asked him and unfortunately believed what he told me. If I had told you that day itself, perhaps we could have taken better care of him and prevented this from happening."

"No Sandhya, don't blame yourself. It's my fault entirely. I've been so busy with my work, hardly ever at home.' "I only said that Prem was not all right, Madhu. I should have won his confidence and found out what was the matter."

'Amma, Appu says that Prem's biggest sore was that you were forever comparing him to me. 'If they had encouraged my tennis, he told Appu, I could have been a State champion. If they had encouraged my guitar playing, I could have been on stage. But no.

‘They were bent on discouraging me. Study should come first. These things should come only after. This is what I heard day in and day out, because this was not what they liked or what they wanted. They wanted me to do what they wanted, not what I wanted. Shit, what a life! I feel like running away somewhere, he used to say...'

"My God, Madhu, what have we done to our son? So much sorrow in him and we didn't have the faintest idea. How we have hurt him and worst of all not realised he was wounded!"

"I was not able to understand him, Revathi. I thought we had done everything he needed. I never thought we had left out anything. What we did was for his own good after all. Wasn't it because we wanted him to have a bright future that we went on nagging him to study hard and do well?"

'No, Madhu, you must realise that we wanted him to bend our way and never bothered to think of what he wanted.'

‘Appa, you are forever comparing the two of us. Two people can never be the same. What was right for me was not necessarily right for him. I'm made differently.’

‘Sandhya!'

‘She's right, Madhu. Instead of showing him what is right and wrong we constantly compared the two children.'

"All right, I suppose we have made a terrible blunder. Let's find Prem and see how we can bring him back to what he was. I'll do my best. That's a promise."

‘As Muthu suggested, we'll insert an ad in tomorrow's papers. Sandhya, the phone is ringing. Go and see.'

'Call from Kodai. Uncle Devanathan.'

‘Tell him I'm not home. I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone just now.'

‘Appa, he says it's very urgent.'

"Hello..."

"Madhavan? How are you?"

'Is this what you called me for?'

'No, I called to tell you Prem is here.’

'What? Prem? There? Revathi, come here. Prem is in Kodaikanal. Devanathan says so. God bless you, Devan. Thank you. You don't know what we have gone through during the last three days. Is he there? Call him. We want to talk to him.'

'Will you let me finish first? Prem came here half an hour ago. He said he's come on a college excursion here, and he's lost all their money. He asked for a 1000 rupees, and said that he would send it back after he is home. He didn't seem all right to me. I asked him a few questions. But he was not able to answer properly. I saw you last week at the board meeting. He tells me Appa has been away in Bombay the last 10 days. I felt that something was wrong. I've told him I would bring the money and have come inside to call you. What do you want me to do?'

Madhavan thought for a few seconds. 'Give him 100 rupees now and tell him you'll get the rest tomorrow morning from the bank. Try and keep him in your house if possible. If he won't stay, have him followed." This was the hardest part, but he had to say it. "Prem is a drug addict. He needs help. We'll leave for Kodai immediately. Till then make sure he doesn't suspect you, or suspect anything. But don't lose sight of him. Thanks a lot.

"He telephoned his psychiatrist friend Dr Reddy and asked him how he should handle Prem."

Telling his driver he would take the wheel himself, the three of them left for Kodaikanal. It was 11 pm.

***

A Psychologist's perspective on Child Rearing

When a child is brought up amidst severe criticism, he learns to scoff at and reject most things.

When a child is teased often, he withdraws into a shell and becomes introverted.

When a child is brought up with a feeling of shame, he becomes a victim of a guilt complex.

When a child is brought up responsibly, he is stable.

When a child is provided enough motivation, he grows up with self-confidence

When a child is praised for his efforts, he learns to appreciate things.

When a child is brought up with a sense of justice, he is truthful and honest.

When a child is brought up in a secure environment, he learns to trust others.

When his peers encourage a child, he gains an insight into his own strengths.

When a child is taught the meaning of love and friendship, he learns to love and accept it in return and learns the way to live a life of peace.

Chapter 23

Fifteen minutes.

Why was it taking him so long to get the money? What was he doing inside? Perhaps Aunty was unhappy with the idea of giving him so much money? Or was he himself wondering if a young boy should be trusted with 1000 rupees?

Should I have asked for less? Perhaps 1000 was too much? I should have told him that if he couldn't give me that much, I can make do with 500. But suppose he felt even that was too much? Two hundred, or maybe three? After all he was rich. A thousand rupees for a good friend's son in trouble. That was not too much to ask. Miser. Miser to top all misers.

His imagination was getting him all worked up. He got up and walked towards the window. It was too dark outside to see clearly.

He glanced around the room. The shelves were filled with hunting trophies. Mounted heads and deerskin. Guns locked up in a glass cupboard. And silver cups. He stared at the silver cups. Silver cups and imported curios.

Two years ago, when they had come here for a holiday, he ed hearing that all these were real silver. He ed his mother drooling, 'What beautiful pieces, and each one so heavy'.

It was Prem who was drooling now. His fingers itched. If he could stealeven one or two, he could get good money for them. He turned to the door. Still no sign of Uncle.

He quickly took a silver horse and a couple of models of ships and stuffed them into his sling bag. He walked away quickly from the cupboard, after having rearranged the other pieces so that there were no gaping empty spaces. He whistled his way to the library next door.

What luck! He found a gold pen and a beautiful table clock. These ed the silver at the bottom of the sling bag.

To make sure there would be no tell-tale jangling, he stuffed his hand towel between the things he had stolen. He had just arranged everything to his satisfaction when Devanathan came in.

'I came in to the library, Uncle. You have a fantastic collection of books.’

I'm sorry I've made you wait so long. Come here. Sit down.' Prem sat down carefully, the bag on his lap.

Your Aunty has gone out for a wedding this afternoon. I don't know if she has taken the cupboard keys by mistake. I've been searching all over the house for the last 10 minutes, but I couldn't find them.

Prem was sorely disappointed. So what if Aunty is not here, Uncle? If you

cannot give me a 1000 at least give me 500.

'Devanathan smiled in spite of Prem's raised voice. Sometimes we are really stupid. Like today. I don't have much money now. All I have is 200 rupees. You can take that now. As soon as Aunty returns, tomorrow morning, I'll give you the rest. Even if she's late I can pick it up from the office early tomorrow.'

‘Prem took the 200 rupees. Two hundred was certainly better than nothing. He didn't have any brown sugar for his morning fix. He didn't even know where it was available or if it was available at all. Instead of shivering here in the cold perhaps he could go to Madurai, a big city. There he was sure to find something. He had to find a buyer for the loot. That should take care of him for some time. 'Will you come in the morning, Prem?'

I'll see. There's another friend who has also gone to see if he can raise some cash. If he has succeeded, I won't come.

"Devanathan could see exactly how Prem's mind was working. He put his well thought out plan into action. 'Tasked you if you would come tomorrow only because I want to return the 5000 rupees I owe your father through you. If you can't come, I can send the money to your hotel tomorrow morning."

Five thousand! What luck! What unexpected luck! Five beautiful thousands! That means a whole year of joyous freedom in Nepal.

‘The greed in his eyes could not be hidden from Devanathan. Prem looked up. Of course I'll come tomorrow morning. What time should I come?'

Devanathan pretended to think. Madhavan could not have left before eleven at the earliest. He would not be here before eight. Better to give time for untoward incidents like a puncture and so on. Ten o'clock should be fine. The bank opens only at ten. Even if I go there before it opens, it will take 10 or 15 minutes. How about 11?'

Prem promised to be there.

"Do you have to go back to the hotel? I'm alone. Why not keep me company tonight?"

"I'd love to, Uncle, but my friends will be waiting for me."

'Ok. Then I'll ask the driver to drop you. It's already quite dark. Which hotel are you staying at?’

That's not necessary. My friends are waiting near the lake. I'll go with them.

As soon as Prem had reached the gate, Devanathan instructed his servant to follow him. Make sure he doesn't know he's being followed. Take your son with you. As soon as you find out where he's staying and what he's doing, send your son back with the information. Whatever happens, don't lose sight of him. His father and mother will be here tomorrow morning by 10. Till then he is our responsibility. Don't talk to him, don't even go near him. Be careful, he told him.

Prem slowly walked towards the lake, blissfully unaware of the two figures behind him. He was crossing a tea shop when he heard someone say, Today's stuff was really great.

What was so great? Perhaps he was a kindred soul and could tell him where to get some brown sugar.

'I overheard you saying that it was great. What was great?' The fellow's eyes were bloodshot. 'What's it to you what I found great?' "Don't tell me if you don't want to. All I want to know is where I can get some brown sugar. Can you tell me that at least?'

'What?'

"You don't understand? Forget it. Can you tell me where I can find mushrooms then?"

The bloodshot eyes exchanged pitying glances with the tea stall owner. Prem could read the linspoken exchange. He went on towards his lodge. He lit the last of his smack filled cigarettes. Lying on the bed, he wondered what he was going to do tomorrow. That wretch Peter. Even if he was going to steal all his things, he could have at least told him where to get the mushrooms.

The lodge boy looked in.

"Do you want your food here, or are you going out to eat?"

Suppose I ask him? Generally, there's nothing these boys don't know.

Hey, come here.

'What, Sir?'

"Do you know where that foreigner Peter used to get the mushrooms from? If you tell me, I'll give you five rupees."

'I don't understand, Sir...'

Mushrooms. Look, like these.

When Prem showed him the dried out specimens he had at the bottom of this bag, the boy understood.

'Oh, these. You want some?'

'Yes, where can I get them?'

"They are very difficult to find. I will have to go very far and even then I'm not

sure if I can find some. You will have to give me 10 rupees if you want me to get them."

'Can you bring me some right away?’

"Right away? It's quite a distance.’

"I will give you 15. Five now and the rest after you bring them. Bring them tonight."

He sent the boy off with five rupees. Munching the dried mushrooms, he patted himself on the back. If that boy brought him enough mushrooms, he need not use the packet of brown sugar at all. He could pick up the 5000 rupees from uncle Devanathan and leave the place.

Go back to the city, go to Sam and tell him he had left the city in a hurry. That's why he could not bring the money earlier. He could then pay for the 20 grams and ask for 50 more. Disappear to Kathmandu. There he could...

'Sir, I came running.'

Prem took the packet the lodge boy offered and opened it. The mushrooms were of a different colour from the ones Peter had brought. But that didn't make any difference to Prem.

Thanks, he said, and gave him a tenner.

'I don't want any dinner now,' he told him. 'If I want to, I'll go out and eat later.’

Impatient to try the mushrooms, he took four of them and put them into his mouth. Ten minutes later there was no effect. So he had four or five more. Half an hour later they did their job. Happy with the effect of the mushrooms, he decided to skip dinner and dozed off.

Had someone hit him on the head with a hammer? He woke up with a start. Hacksaws were cutting up his stomach. Oh God, the pain! He doubled up and the pain turned to nausea. Prem found he had vomited all over the bed.

Nausea and pain. He held his stomach with one hand, his mouth with the other and ran to the common bathroom.

Once, twice, thrice, five times, six. How could there still be anything left in his stomach? Was he going to die? I can't stand, I can't see. I'm choking to death. Did that wretch bring me poisonous mushrooms? What am I going to do? Isn't there anyone to help me?

God, please heed.

It was a cold night and everyone was huddled under a blanket for warmth. There was no one to hear his cries. He couldn't get up anymore. Prem kept lying in a pool of his own filth. Giddiness pain, vague memories. Pain, pain. Was that the

cold hand of death on his forehead?

Someone was hugging his filthy body.

‘Prem, son, look at me...'

It sounded like his mother. But he couldn't be that lucky. Not here not now. Not in this state.

'Leave me alone. Why did you come here? Let me be.’

Revathi hugged him. Her tears washed his face. Hot, salty tears.

‘Do you want to know why we have come? We've come to say sorry. All these years we asked you to do what we wanted. Today we have come to ask you what you want to do. We love you, Prem. Just tell us what you want us to do for you. We love you. Do you follow what I'm saying?'

He understood a little bit, but couldn't comprehend.

‘Not knowing how to communicate his feelings, he buried his face in her bosom. And, blurted out sobbing, 'Amma, help me, please... please...'

***

Love

One of the main reasons why people get into the drug trap is because of a lack of love and empathy in their lives. Psychologists point out that when they are convinced there are people who care for them, they feel the need to get out of their addiction. When I heard this, I thought of the late Mother Teresa.

I met the Mother many years ago. She told me that there was nothing that love could not achieve. Nothing could compare to the power of true love. Giving up on enmity and fostering love and friendship would help to heal suffering hearts and souls. When this is understood, there will be no bitterness or anger. There should be no hesitation in displaying love and affection.

Chapter 24

Prem was fast asleep. A drugged sleep.

Madhavan and Revathi had brought him to Devanathan's house. They washed him, cleaned him, and called the doctor who dosed the vomiting and diarrhoea. Dehydration had set in as he had lost body fluids all night, so the doctor put him on a glucose drip.

Madhavan called up Dr Reddy to find out what should be done next. Prem's only cry throughout had been, 'Don't let me suffer the agony of cold turkey. I can't bear it, I can't.'

Dr Reddy suggested he be given the brown sugar he had, so that he could stand the journey, and be brought home immediately. Devanathan promised to send Madhavan's car back later. They took a flight from Madurai and were home by seven. Following the doctor's advice, Prem was given a sleeping pill. Dr Reddy came to see Prem.

'How is he?' he asked Revathi.

Asleep. He's awfully tired, Doctor.

‘Naturally. His body has been greatly abused by drugs. If, in addition, he has

been vomiting and suffering from diarrhoea the whole night, he cannot but be worn out.'

'Doctor, will he be all right?'

"Of course. We won't give up till he does."

His reassuring words were a tonic to Revathi. The doctor opened Prem's closed eyes and looked at the pupils. There was no reaction from Prem. This worried Revathi.

"Doctor, why is there no reaction?"

"He's had a sleeping pill."

'Is it only the sleeping pill or something else?'

"Are you asking me if he is drugged? When did he last have brown sugar?’

It was Madhavan who answered. 'About one, one thirty.’

"Well, its effect is supposed to last six to eight hours. But to me it seems Prem is under the effect of the sleeping pill, not the brown sugar.’

They left Prem to sleep under Sandhya's watchful eyes while they discussed the plan of action. "Right now what do you plan to do?' asked Dr Reddy.

We were hoping you would tell us.'

"First, it's important that we know the history of his taking drugs. What do you know?"

"Sandhya tried to talk to him this afternoon. She picked up a bit of information. He started on grass. About a year ago, he switched to brown sugar. Half a gram a day at the beginning now he takes about two, two and a half grams."

"Oh God!"

'Is two and half a lot?'

Yes, it is. But we can only console ourselves that it is not four or five. By the way, do you know how he used to take it?

'He used to smoke it, then chase it.'

‘Thank God he has not started taking it intravenously.'

"What can we do now?' Dr Reddy took off his glasses and gave them an unnecessary wipe."

"it him to hospital."

'Is there no other way?'

‘There is, but it is better to get him itted for two weeks till he is detoxified. Why do you look at me like that? Do you have any objections?'

Madhavan and Revathi looked at each other. 'We were thinking that Prem may not want to go to the hospital.'

‘But didn't you just tell me that he begged you to help him become the old Prem once more?'

‘True. Buton the way back, he begged us not to it him to hospital. We promised we would not do anything against his wishes.'

'I was hoping he would accept treatment, if he wants to be helped.'

‘He will, Doctor. I guarantee it. But is it possible to treat him at home?'

‘That will be very difficult.'

"Revathi and I feel that it was our lack of caring that drove Prem to drugs. Duty does not stop with giving a child a comfortable home and a good education. We should have seen to it that he was brought up to be a responsible adult. That is a duty we owe not only our children but also society. Revathi and I have been discussing things ever since we found out that Prem is a drug addict. If Prem is to become the happy-go-lucky, bright boy that he was, it is imperative that all three of us work together. We have to prove to Prem how much we love him. And we will respect his wishes to be anindividual in his own right, not a carbon copy of Sandhya.

"This outpouring left Madhavan drained. Dr Reddy went over to the bookshelf and stood with his back to them, giving the parents a chance to recover their equanimity."

A few seconds later, he asked again, So?

'We have told you what we feel. It is for you to decide.'

'I will accede to your wishes. You can treat him at home. But be prepared for a very bad time the first week. Cold turkey and other withdrawal symptoms. We have to guard him against these. I will send a nurse as you will need a trained person to give injections and put him on a drip. ‘

‘Does he still need the drip? The vomiting and diarrhoea have stopped.'

‘It's not only on of dehydration that the drip is given. Prem needs nourishment. Moreover, if he has a needle in his arm, he cannot get out of bed and walk around. Do you understand what I'm saying?’

They understood all right. It was outside the house that the 'friends' and peddlers waited.

‘The drip has to be given very slowly from morning till evening for a week. So that he does not suffer racking body pains during withdrawal, we will give him two or three varieties of pain killers. We have to see that he does not become addicted to those. Sometimes a person having withdrawal symptoms feels there are creepycrawly insects all over his body. He has the most horrible nightmares. To counteract this, he has to be given tranquillisers, vitamins to keep up his body strength and Calmpose to help him sleep soundly.'

How many days will this treatment take, Doctor? 'It's difficult to say. If Prem cooperates, we can reduce the drugs in a week. If all goes well, you will be able to see a semblance of the old Prem in two weeks.'

'Two weeks? Just two weeks? Then will we get our old Prem back?

"Hopefully. But for six months you have to be very, very, alert. Sometimes it takes years for the blood to cure itself of all the side effects of drugs. Don't think I'm being an alarmist. If 60 per cent of all alcoholics can be cured, the rate for drug addicts is only two per cent.’

"Oh God!"

"Don't worry. Not every Prem has the of parents like you. Alcoholism and drug addiction can't be cured by the individual himself. The whole family is responsible. Unless the family understands this, there is no hope for the addict. He will only get back to drugs. I have the greatest hope that this will not happen in your case."

With final instructions about what exactly had to be done, Dr Reddy left them to face the fact that Prem's recovery was totally in their hands.

With a silent promise to themselves that this time they would not fail, they ed Sandhya in Prem's room.

***

The History of Drugs

Thailand, Laos and Burma, the countries that form the Golden Triangle and those that form the Golden Crescent, Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan, export tons of drugs to countries across the world.

Till 1983, India remained merely a 'route' for dealers and the people here remained largely ignorant of drugs. In the years that followed, the country that was merely a 'route' turned into a ''s paradise'. In the blink of an eyelid, the problem has assumed alarming proportions and the menace has spread across the

country's major cities, much like forest fire.

Chapter 25

An ant kept stinging him in the same place on his arm. Some unknown insect was crawling on his legs. His lips were twitching. His throat was dry and his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth. A little pain, a little sleep, a little suffering. But he was unable to do or say anything as he constantly felt weak.

Prem tried to turn on his side. Before he could turn his arm over, Revathi held him back. 'Don't turn, Prem. You're on a glucose drip. Lie straight.

His mother's voice seemed to come from some far away place But it had an unmistakable note of love. She ruffled his hair, rubbed his cheeks. "What do you want, Prem? Can I get you anything?'

He opened his eyes. 'Amma, take this off.'

‘What? The drip? Be patient, Prem. Just a few more days.'

'My arm is cramped. It hurts. Please take it off.'

Sandhya was sitting there too. There's just a quarter bottle of glucose left. Shall I ask the nurse to increase the flow?'

‘The nurse knew what was expected of her. She came up to the bed, fiddled with the tube, and smiling at Prem, asked 'Ok, now?'

Prem looked at the glucose bottle. But his mind refused to focus. He closed his eyes once more.

'Will you have something to eat, Prem?'

"Nothing"

"Some orange juice?"

'No, nothing.'

"Ok, go to sleep."

‘Amma...'

'What?'

There's an insect crawling on my legs.

"This was the tenth time Prem had said the same thing that morning. Dr Reddy had warned her, You have to be very patient the first week. No matter what he says or asks, you must act or pretend to do it."

She bent down and looking at Sandhya said, "There's an ant on Prem's leg. Killit. Relax, Prem, try to sleep.

His mother's gentle massage relaxed his taut limbs. But not totally His ts ached. Something was happening inside his stomach. His eyes and nose felt moist.

He had a sudden doubt. Was it cold turkey time? Were these warning symptoms?

'Amma...'

The urgency in his voice alarmed Revathi. "What is it, Prem?' Ithink I'm going to get cold turkey."

'No Prem, you won't get it. The doctor has given you antidotes for that. Please relax. "Don't try to bluff me.'

"You are perspiring, Prem, do you think we will allow you to suffer? The doctor has mixed some medicine in the glucose to prevent you getting cold turkey. There's no need to be afraid."

‘Prem turned to Sandhya and the nurse for confirmation. Really?'

'Really,' said Sandhya.

"That's a fact," said the nurse.

Then why are my ts hurting? Why is there water coming out of my eyes and nose?

"They couldn't tell him he was imagining these things. "I told you it's only perspiration. Your body is aching because you are weak. And you've been lying down all this time, that's all. I promise you there's nothing wrong with you now. The doctor says you will be your old self in three or four days."

Amma, he called again.

‘Yes, Prem?'

'Are you still angry with me?'

'Rubbish.'

Appa?

"Nonsense."

‘Sandhya?'

'I love you, Prem’

You are all just saying that. After all the things I have done, how can you not be angry? Tell me the truth.

Revathi kissed her son on the forehead. She held his face between her hands, 'As Sandhya said, we all love you, Prem. Never forget that. And there's something else you should know. You are not the only one who has done wrong. We are just as much to blame. As older people, we should have known better. We are older but certainly not wiser. You have every right to be angry with us for what we did.

"No, Amma, you didn't do anything. There is no one to blame but me. How can I be angry with you?"

"There's nothing you've done, Prem, which is so unforgivable, Everyone makes mistakes. As long as we learn from them, nothing is lost."

"Well then, even if you are not angry, you must be terribly disappointed that it was your son who behaved this way."

"Not really. We are only sorry that we were the root cause for it. I'm telling you once more, we all love you very much. Try to sleep now."

"Amma..."

‘Yes, Prem?'

"I'm sorry."

Prem had tears in his eyes.

Revathi didn't know what to say. She kissed him again. It's all right, Prem. Don't worry.

He was quiet for a few seconds.

Amma, the old servant didn't take anything. It was I who...who...' The tears turned into sobs. Revathi hugged him tightly.

'Prem, don't rake up the past now.’

But Prem didn't stop sobbing. He had a lot to be sorry for.

Revathi looked beseechingly at the nurse. She gave him a sedative. In ten minutes he was asleep, but the people watching over him could see from the changing expressions on his face that his dreams continued to disturb him. What did he dream that he was so troubled?

He was in Sunil's room. Leaning against the wall, feet stretched out in front of him.

'Care for some grass?'

‘You mean marijuana?'

‘Same thing. But why does that scare you so much?'

'Aren't drugs dangerous?'

'Who says? I see you smoking a cigarette. Isn't that dangerous too? Come on, try it.’

The college campus. Bharat, Appu and him. 'We're going to buy the stuff, Appu. Want to come?'

I... I don't have any money....

'Is that all? Among friends, have one have all. Otherwise, what are friends for? Correct, Bharat?"

"Exactly."

‘Peter. Pills. Haven't you seen any before? Have you heard of acid? LSD? Here, take a free sample. Just try one and see.' Bangalore. Vijay making friends. 'Have you ever tried brown sugar, Prem? Have you heard of smack? You mean you really don't know?'

The Sethji with his watch. The humiliation at the pawn shop.

Bharat's house. "What we have to do is find a way to get some bread immediately." "Your cousin Murali... just get me the keys to his video shop. Fifty tapes. Ten thousand rupees. Lovely!' The dealer. 'Don't you know that no money means no smack?' "Please, I've tried everywhere I know, but couldn't manage to get any money. So this one time. Please." "Ok, since you've been all right till now, here, take these 10 grams and sell it. Keep the profit. Don't think you can cheat us. If you do, we'll finish you off. Ok?'

At the Drive-in with Appu.

'Oh! Still a packet person, eh?' 'What to do? To spend two rupees a day for grass is difficult.'

"Smoke smack?"

"No, Prem, I don't want to start on brown sugar."

"Aren't you my best friend? Do you think I will do anything to harm you? It's on the house. Come on, try it."

"Great, Prem."

"Want to take some home and try it again?"

"But this is such expensive stuff! I can't afford it, Prem."

Kodaikanal and the poisonous mushrooms. Bleeding traffic lights. Reptiles he never even knew existed. Crawling all over him. Somebody cutting his stomach into tiny pieces.

Oh God! Am I dying? 'Amma, help me Somebody help me.

His long scream turned her blood to ice. The drip needle had been wrenched out of his arm. His body twisted and turned in pain. He threw off Revathi when she went to hug him. It took the three of them to hold him down. The nurse gave him another tranquilliser, and Madhavan ran down to ring up Dr Reddy to ask for help.

***

Last Words on Brown Sugar

On a visit to the forensic department many years ago, I met the director Prof. Chandrasekaran and his assistants and told them of my desire to have a look at substances like ganja and brown sugar to understand what they looked like

Before opening the bottle that contained Brown Sugar, they switched off the ceiling fan and shut all the windows to ensure that there would be no breeze coming in. They wore gloves before attempting to open the bottles that had been sealed.

They sensed that I was surprised by the degree of precautions they were taking and offered an explanation.

These drugs are extremely powerful and have the ability to bring a under their control in the blink of an eyelid. It is not necessary for heroin or brown sugar to be consumed by smoking or through injections. In consequence, it is important to be careful not to inhale them even by mistake, at the time of research or at times when they are being exhibited. In truth, brown sugar is the deadly poison of our modern society.

Chapter 26

He could hear birds chirping. Was that the mynah? No, it sounded too sweet. Somewhere, a cow was mooing gently.

Prem looked out of the window. The mango tree was in full bloom The stars seemed to have come down and settled on its branches. The birds demanded attention. What a beautiful day! It was good to be alive.

He had discovered a new meaning in life in the last ten days. Food tasted better, he slept the deep sleep of an innocent child. He was filled with an encoming peace and contentment. Why was he not able to find this serenity earlier?

Peace and contentment. Love and affection had shown him what life was all about.

He had not become a yogi, sundering the ties that bound him to the world. On the contrary, the attachments to family and friends had grown so strong that only death's knife could sever them.

Twenty-eight days. Four weeks since he begged his mother to help him. He had wanted to become the old Prem. But those four weeks had made him an improved version.

He had begged for help to become his old self. But there had been many times, when he begged her to forget it, forget the treatment, he didn't want to change, he couldn't bear the pain anymore. All he wanted was one chase, just one; he wouldn't ask for any more; Amma, please Amma, please.

The first week swung from one extreme to another.

Even now, when he thought of the pain, the cramps, the nightmares, he could hardly bear it. He had been to hell and back.

Which was the real world and which the imaginary? What was imagined and what was the truth? Was this a dream, or was it actually happening to him? Sometimes he didn't care and sometimes he cared too much.

Twisting, turning, tossing, nightmares turned into reality. 'Let me go to hell,' he begged, but please give me a smack. I can't bear it. I can't.'

And something which sent shivers down their spines. ing the note he had left behind on his sojourn to hell. 'Leave me alone'.

His father and mother, Sandhya, the nurse, Dr Reddy when he came visiting. And he came often, often leaving important work to come. They all took turns reassuring Prem, holding his hand, telling him to hold on just a little longer. Just a little more. You'll be fine tomorrow. We love you very much. But please be patient! Just a little more time, and this will all become just an unpleasant memory. Please, Prem, please.

It was a week of torture they would not have wished on anyone. To see their loved son suffering the spasms of withdrawal, to hear him begging and pleading. They needed their collective strength to see them through. When Prem was asleep with the help of a sleeping pill, they wentout of his room and comforted one another. They had to be strong for his sake, for only in their strength lay his salvation.

The second week was not that bad. The urge to smoke was still strong, especially soon after he woke up. But slowly there grew a determination, which became firmer with the help of his family. 'No, I won't,' he promised himself, 'not after having come this far. I can do it, I can.'

That determination and the love and affection increased his will power daily. Till he could say, 'Smack? Not for me.'

This change happened during the second week, when he found life was not so rotten after all. He could do and enjoy many things he had never thought of doing. Was it only the love shown by everyone which was responsible for this transformation?

What about the sacrifices they made and the tears they shed? The despair he had brought to his father, mother and sister? Could he ever again let them go through this?

Never. What did he gain out of it? Momentary pleasure, a momentary forgetfulness of problems. But how many better ways to enjoy life and find lasting happiness. Problems would not go away if you forgot them. You had to cope with them. Cope, not bury them under alcohol or drugs because the problem would only be forgotten and come again. And it would become more difficult to solve the longer it was kept hidden.

Sacrifices. First, Madhavan gave up his job. I've been wanting to retire for sometime now. I'm not up to the frenetic pace at which I have to work. My wife is also tired of city life. She wants to go and live in our farm house. That's why I'd like to opt for voluntary retirement. I hope you understand,' he told a surprised Managing Director.

He was not the only one to be surprised. The whole company was agog when Madhavan not only gave in his resignation letter but moved to the farm house within a week.

Rumours were rife. After all, he had been tipped to become the next MD.

They took with them just a few essentials. Waiting for the twoWeek period Dr Reddy had said was mandatory for Prem to become comparatively normal, they shifted with a minimum of fuss.

Prem was moved more or less like a piece of baggage. He was unaware that they had shifted from the city to the farm house. When he did become aware of his surroundings, he presumed they had all come here for a change. But what a change! Madhavan never went to the club. They did not attend any cocktail parties or dinners.

"Appa drives the car himself. Amma cooks."

Why was everything upside down? Were these the people who, ever since he could had been social butterflies, entertaining and being entertained?

When he asked his mother, she laughed. So did Madhavan.

When Prem found out the full extent of the changes, he was shocked.

All this for me? To cure me? To save me from myself and any unpleasant remarks friends and acquaintances might make? Afraid that old faces and old places might take me back to my old ways? Why this sudden drastic decision?

He had to find out. Even if he could only ask all these questions in a half blurred, tearful voice.

Revathi hugged him. Madhavan suspiciously gruffed, said, 'Don't be silly. 'Appa, tell me the truth. Was it for my sake that you gave up such an important job and all those perks? The friends, the parties, Sundays at the club?'

'No, Madhavan said, again and again. 'I promise I didn't do it just for you. You were just the catalyst. You we told you that you alone were not responsible for the things that happened to you and we were to blame too? Too much of office work, too much socialising, too much of clubs and parties we didn't fulfil our duties as parents. And nothing is as important as the happiness and welfare of our children. We made the mistake of thinking that material comfort could substitute for mental peace. Happy homes are where parents and children share time, not money. After leaving the city, we have found great pleasure in doing things for ourselves and for our children. And we have no regrets that we chose this simple life.

Sandhya had enrolled at the local college. Didn't she mind? Not in the least, to judge by her happy face.

Prem was still not totally convinced. How could he not have felt this love all these years? Unconditional love, which asked for nothing in return, but to be loved?

How could he have ever thought that only Sandhya was dear to them? Till just a few weeks ago, his thinking had been convoluted. How did he suddenly start thinking straight?

Ever since he came to the farm house, a question ground at him. Just for me? Just for me? What was this if it wasn't sacrifice? In the twinkling of an eye, to give up a whole lifestyle, old friends, servants, luxury! If not for me, then for whom? If this was not love, what was? If this was not sacrifice, he didn't know what else it was. How deep their love must be, how strong their attachment to him, to cut themselves loose from the old life. Family above self. United we stand. If one is hurt, everyone is.

All the analysis brought him to one conclusion. Love is above all other emotions. If a person is lucky enough to be loved, he doesn't need anything else. How terrible it must be if he has no one to care for.

His family. How lucky he was! We love you Prem, they reminded him constantly. We want you to be happy and healthy. That's all we want

His family had saved him from the hell on earth he had walked into. He ed something he had read many years ago. An Indian family's ties are like the strong links of a chain. The combined strength of the links helps withstand pressures on an individual link.

From ancient times this has been our strongest point. Unselfish love. Others above self. Why did he not realise this before? Or did he know and did not care?

He went into the bathroom to wash his face. The inner changes showed outwardly too.

He felt refreshed after he washed his face. Returning to his room, he saw his guitar lying in a corner.

'You you wanted to play like a professional? Shall I arrange for a teacher to come here? You can start your tennis lessons again at the stadium.’

'Don't worry about not being able to cope with studies, tennis and guitar. You can take a year's break from college if you like. If you feel you are ready to play professionally, go ahead. If you think you're not cut out for it, then you can continue with college. Instead of getting your degree at 21 you'll get it at 22. You are still so young. You have enough time to satisfy all your desires.'

Prem did not or rather could not answer his father then. But the idea had been planted. He must plan his future.

The college had reopened a week ago. He would give himself a month to recuperate, then go back to class. He would study hard, do his MBA, and get into the World Bank.

He could play tennis and have his guitar lessons on weekends. There was enough time for everything,

College brought back memories of old friends. Sunil, who had introduced him to ganja. Was he bitter about him? Surprisingly not. Just because a friend asked him to, he needn't have done it.

If he had strength of character and will power, he would have refused.

He could now meet Sunil and tell him, 'If I can get out of the trap of brown sugar, so can you..

Bharat? Could he meet him?

When his mother had told him that Bharat was ina mental hospital, he had thought.

"There, but for the grace of God, I too would have gone."

Prem had the good fortune of having a loving family who helped him find his way back from hell. Poor Bharat. Because there was no one to love him and care for him, he had to sink into the morass. Would he be able to help him? He must find out.

When he returned to college, he would meet Vijay and tell him his experiences

and how it was possible to get out in time.

But first of all he must do something for Appu, whom he had single-handedly pushed into the quicksand.

Appu, who had kept on repeating that he was poor, that those kicks were not for the likes of him, that he could not afford even the grass that he had got into the habit of smoking later and that brown sugar, was way beyond his means.

What had he done to him? Begged him, and when begging failed, blackmailed him, and later browbeaten him. Made him an unwilling addict first to ganja and then to brown sugar.

Could he ever forgive himself for that? To what depths of degradation had he sunk in his quest to find money for brown sugar?

He had taken Appu's mother's hard-earned savings and bought himself two days of happiness.

Happiness. How he had fooled himself that he was happy. The constant misery of where to find the money for his next chase, his next smoke. If that was happiness, it was better to be miserable. Was that two months ago? Probably.

Appu must still be on half a gram a day, or perhaps one gram. But, for him and his family, which was economically struggling, this habit means disaster. Oh God, no.

Appu had to be helped and immediately.

Prem was in deep contemplation while doing the yogasamas, taught by a special instructor. He had his bath, and when he came out dressed, found Sandhya ready to go to college, his mother serving her breakfast, his father reading the newspaper.

All three were surprised and, if the truth be told, slightly apprehensive.

"Ready so quickly, Prem?" his father asked.

'Amma, I'd like to go to the city with Sandhya.'

Their apprehension turned to fright. Was Prem going back to his old ways? Why was he eager to go to the city?

Please God, they couldn't bear it anymore.

Prem understood. He hurried to dispel their doubts.

"No, Amma, I'm not going back to my old haunts. Believe me when I say that I will never be so irresponsible again. I want to meet Appu. It was I who hooked him on ganja last year and forced him to try brown sugar when I was desperate

for money. It's about two months now. I had all of you to help get me out of this but, Appu won't have any family . Even if his mother wanted to, she couldn't possibly get away from her job. They are entirely dependent on her income. So if you agree, I would like to atone for what I did to him by bringing him here, giving him treatment, and helping him get out of the pit I pushed him into. Please don't say no.'

Revathi and Madhavan's hearts swelled with relief and pride. "Oh, Prem. To think we doubted you! We are proud of you. Go, bring Appu back today. If his mother doesn't agree, we'll talk to her. Good luck!

Ten minutes later, Sandhya and Prem were on their way. Prem was brimming with self-confidence. His face reflected his happiness. As he left, he turned back to his father and mother with a smile which said, I love you, and thank you for everything.

A new chapter had begun.

THE END