Badastoor

From the diary of a smoker.


Umm, this was during a rough patch of my life. I had cut out all social connections, I no longer saw a purpose in my life, everything was pointless. As if the soul had been sucked out of me. People call this a phase of depression. It was in that hollowness that I was given a cigarette by a classmate. It did give me spacial and temporal brakes, and what was earlier a uniformly depressing day, now came to me in phases of numbness and depression.
Did it improve things for me? I don’t know the answer to this question. Like a brain which is terribly bored of inaction, my cigaretters were like chewing gums I chewed for no reason, they came to me as a break and stuck with me like a habit, only to later turn into addiction.

There was a push in me to step out of my comfort zone and walk up to a place where I could find cigarettes. I had always believed that this push was external to me. I had started being ignorant towards the life around me, my room remained uncleaned for weeks, I was surrounded by disorder, the stench of tobacco was stuck in my clothes.

Time kept moving and I passively lived through it. The realisation had started dawning upon me that this was an eternal cycle I had gotten into, this will go on until I die of oldage and shall remain as the only traces of me. This was particularly unsettling for me. I was disturbed, didn’t sleep the entire night, turning in my bed. Before the sunrise, I had picked up a plastic bag, put all the garbage in it, along with the weight of coins I had accumulated from buying cigarettes each day, I hated them, and put it all in the garbage. I rearranged my books, separated my fresh clothes from those that needed to see the laundry, and then I switched off my lights. That dawn, I slept like a baby. I slept the entire day.

When I woke up and had taken bath, I knew I was not going back to any of it. I knew I would never open the dungeon I had closed last night. I had pushed an idea into my head, what had passed shall never again be brought back, not even a thought shall be spared for it. I do not know why this was so easy for me. May be, I couldn’t settle with the thought of seeing myself with pity. I did not receive any divine revelation. I had packed all of it, the good as well as the bad memories, in a bag and dumped it in my head, in a corner I shall never touch. And just that way, I had quit smoking, along with other things I hate now, and never went back to it.

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