Change

So I woke up this morning and declared that this day be a no-smoking day. As clichéd as it sounded, there was an unusual calm in the manner the day progressed. After the grand Bangalorean breakfast of two greasy, coriander-garnished ragi dosas and chai at a nearby darshini, which was by the way filled with smokers who had the traditional after-the-idli-vada-sambar cigarette along with their third coffee of the day, I went straight to the grocery store to buy washing soap. 

Just one cigarette wouldn’t hurt. It’s the thought that counts, I am going to quit anyway. Well not exactly quit, quit – I mean that would be unreasonable and downright unachievable – but considerably reduce. 

Or not, I really don’t know. Fuck.

So, now then, chai and dum, five plus six equals eleven rupees - not so much considering the kind of college I go to. Go straight, take the second left, and just make sure you catch Subbu’s eye, He’ll know. He always knows. My regular dose of opium will be handed over. 

That’s all good, but what happened to the weather now? The Bangalore weather is like a monkey who doesn’t know what to do next; hence you never know what’s coming. It was perfectly cool a while ago and now it’s a bloody furnace.

Okay, it IS hot. But it’s not like I haven’t smoked in such weather. Bitch, please!

I knew I wouldn’t enjoy it anyway. So I let this pass. Now I had a herculean task at hand -washing all the clothes from the last two weeks. That’s the price one pays for opting sense over convenience. After reliving the cloth-washing memories from my hostel days complete with filthy orange colored tiles et al, I quickly had a bath and headed off for lunch as I had got this sudden craving for chicken biryani. After relishing the awful, styrofoam-like chicken I headed back home. Surprisingly the voices fell quiet. I guess everyone needs some sleep.

Wake up! It’s five-thirty. The cigarette is my reward. The nights in the city are always pretty cold and it is really impractical to not smoke tonight. Whatever I do, it will happen. Wait for it.

I waited. Much to my delight and surprise, nothing happened. After some usual loafing around, I finally decided to get out of the house at seven. Yes, it was cold and yes, I did decide what I was going to do next. Without stopping at Subbu’s – I couldn’t spot him this time, his wife was taking care of business – I headed to the market road. The familiar hustle-bustle and the not-so-friendly debates outside Iyengar bakeries welcomed me. This was my textbook definition of the current Bangalore. Oh what would I do without this city! I walked further and spotted a Bangalore Juice Center. After quickly examining the place, not that I could see much of it considering that it was just a six by six shop, I ordered my Papaya milk shake and waited. 

I watched men smoking away (my normally-impeccable eyesight could even spot what brand of cigarettes they were smoking, not that it mattered much) and chit-chatting. I turned away and waited for the little boy to put papaya slices into the mixer, run it for 7 seconds and deliver my drink. Strangely the milk shake didn’t have any milk. When I asked him why, the boy mumbled something in hindi which I believe meant that milk and papaya aren’t very compatible. I silently drank the “milk shake” which wasn’t that bad and stormed towards my house. On my way, I saw people gather around a popular chat joint and eat their panipuris which were of course taken out of the pani-filled pots by the strong, bare hands of the panipuriwalla. I smiled.

Hold that thought. What happened to the reward? I can see that Subbu’s is still open. Perfect timing. Let’s end the day with a smoke.

Change. Why are we so afraid of it that we second guess the outcomes and are afraid to even try something out of the ordinary? Why does it cause so much of imbalance?  Newton would be proud to know that his laws were being interpreted in more than one ways. 

I didn’t smoke. No. Not today. I like this change and I’m not sure what this will lead to. But I’ll worry about it another day.