Smoking dots

I boarded the 9:55 fast local from Panvel to CST. I was the only one in the coach. I stood at the gate and let the fast moving train invite a gush of fresh breeze to play with my hair. Friends say my hair has been falling continuously. I take it wittingly and compare myself with the other well-known people who have less hair. Say for example Salman Khan.

The train halted at Vashi. A lady in veil entered the coach. She took a window seat. The train started to move. She was stamping her feet gently in a rhythmic way. Probably she was listening to her ipod plugged into her ears. I was getting curious to know which song she was listening to. She had beautiful digits. Very fair. So should be her face. She must be beautiful. I was getting more and more tempted to have a glimpse of her. It happens so very often that when something is covered it tends to invite all our imagination - wild imagination at times.

I got down at the next station. The stations of New Bombay are so elegant and clean. They don’t bustle like Dadar station. You don’t get a chance to rub your body against someone else. You don’t smell the stink of the passerby’s sweat

I stood at a road side shop and lit a cigarette and it started to rain. I wanted to enjoy the rain as well as the “smoked smoke” of sutta. I held it with my thumb and index finger as if I was holding a pen allowing the three other fingers of my hand to cover it in an articulate manner. And when I brought it close to my lips I covered it with my other hand. Water droplets started falling from my earlobes. My foot rubbed with the slippers wet floor making a shrill sound. My mother always got annoyed when I use to make this sound knowingly after washing my feet and walked by mischievously past her.

I sat at a bus stop waiting for my bus to come. There were not many people at the bus stop. I let the cigarette go off. It was wet and almost over. There came a beggar asking me for one rupee coin. Beggars now-a-days don’t ask anything less than a rupee. Apparently you can’t even buy a vada-pao for a rupee. Not even a cup of tea. Prices have risen always for most of the things. Except for parle kismee toffee. It use to cost 25 paisa when I was in school. It still costs the same. I still love to eat kismee. I had only one in my pocket. I was getting a strong desire to eat it. I didn't want to take it out in front of her. She was old. She wouldn't have eaten that even if I would have offered her and on the other hand I was feeling sorry for her so didn't want to lure her for whatever. I chose to eat the toffee later and chose to ignore her as well. It had stopped raining. The weather had changed soon but the clouds were still hovering around as if it would rain soon. Humidity was making me feel uncomfortable. There was no sweat but I could feel a strong itch around my neck. She scratched her hand with her nails. Her nails scooped out black body stains. She didn’t bother to clean her nails. She was about to say me something when I got a call on my mobile. It was a wrong number.

She asked again for a rupee. This time she stated a reason. She said she was hungry and wanted to eat something. I mocked at her reason and told her "what will you get in one rupee". She said she would collect more and then buy her self a meal. I wanted to buy her a meal but didn't see any food joint near by. At the same time I wasn't willing to give her a tenner. My cunning mind was arguing with me that she wont spend it for her meal instead she might buy herself a joint or may be a packet of beedi. I asked her to move ahead.

She looked at me disheartened. I cursed the bus for not coming in time. I went to the cigarette shop to light another one. I came back and stood near the bus stop. She approached me again. She asked me if I would buy her a beedi. I asked "Why do you smoke? How will you get cured if you fall sick"? She smiled and asked me the same. I said, "Perhaps I can afford a treatment".

"If that were the case rich people would have never died of an ailment", said she. I was getting irritated. Why is she trying to act smart? I fished for a coin in my wallet. I could only find a five rupee coin. I thought this would at least buy peace. She gladly accepted it. She sat near the bus stop. She tied it carefully to one end of her soiled sari making a strong knot.

"How many do you smoke in a day?"

"Depends, sometimes 6 and if I am tensed may be 10 or even more"

"How much it costs"

"5 rupee"

"You burn 30 to 50 rs just for pleasure in one day?" said she. She stared at a distance pondering something and calculating it on her finger. "1500 Rs in a month and in a year..." She got lost with her numbers. I pulled out my cell phone and quickly calculated it and found out that it’s actually 18000 in a year. I kept the figure to myself in some kind of embarrassment. I was amused at her mathematics. She looks illiterate though.

"Do you have a family?"

This was turning personal now but I was enjoying it. I let the bus go. 7 got in and just one alighted. Had it been a stop somewhere near Dadar or Mumbai Central, 4 would have alighted and 15 would have got in. Smelling more sweat and rubbing their body parts more furiously. I wanted to talk to this lady for a while. "Your bus" said she. "I need to go elsewhere" I lied to her. She itched her loosely tied dirty grey hair. She tried to pull a bug out of her hair which resembled like a bird's deserted nest.

"Those who are blessed with more money have a tendency to waste it more" She uttered. I smiled back at her.

I asked her "Who do you live with".

"None. I never had kids. My husband died of some unknown disease".

"What did the doctor say" asked I.

"The doctor of the slum had no clue and the doctor in Andheri asked for 250 rs as his fee". I kept begging day after day. The more I got the more I spent in his food and my food. A part of it was taken by the contractor." Perhaps she was referring to the guy who would be collecting hafta from her slum area.

“He slept one day and never rose again. There was no need to collect Rs 250 ever again”.

“I am sorry”.

"Babu, can you give me 500 Rs? I want to buy myself specs. I don’t have any one who I can borrow from. I will return to you perhaps someday"

I chose to ignore her demanding request.

My bus came and I wanted to catch it. As I rose she said "you can spend 1500 for your cigarettes and you people can’t spare 500 for me so that I can see the world a little better".

I occupied the window seat and the bus started to move. I looked at her. She wasn’t looking at me. Perhaps in complete dejection.

I lay on my bed thinking about her. She was so right. I spend fuckin 18 grand thousand rupees or even more a year for my luxury habit of smoking. She was knocking my mind again and again. I felt a staunch in my lower belly. Perhaps because of ignoring the lunch and also the dinner. But I felt a big fat tires around my belly. I should start jogging.

The next morning I dressed myself as a Reebok boy. Red sleeveless Reebok t-shirt and pearl white silk Reebok shorts with ankle length Reebok socks and my Reebok running shoes. I felt as if I am Reebok’s brand ambassador. It was all new. I bought it as a hamper two months so that it would give me a quick start to jog. Finally I got a reason to run today. I ran for not more than 500 meters when I ran out of my breath. I cursed myself for smoking. I wonder whether I would perform the same in bed. And then pushed the silly thought away.

I thought not to smoke. As long as I could resist. And I wanted to be firm this time. I tied a red thread to my index finger. It would keep me reminded.

It has been 17 days since I last smoked. I looked back. There was she. There was a realization of spending 18000 grand for this luxurious bad habit and there was a panting me who couldn’t even run 500 meters. And a scare of loosing stamina. I connected all the dots which let me quit smoking. I wanted to meet her. I went to the same bus stop. I couldn’t find her.

I have been through the same way for so many days now. I never was able to find her again. I wish I could buy her a pair of spectacles. She deserved this small gift at least.

P.S While writing this blog I misspelled the spelling of “cigarette” each time it occurred. I wrote it as “cigeretee”. Its worth quitting. I don’t even know how to spell it and I have been fueling 18 F thousand grand for cigeretes.