Saturday, October 11, 2014


Ganges in Allahabad.
A dear friend and me had bhang [a preparation of marijuana made from young leaves and stems] in Varanasi. I narrate here what happened after that.

So we were back in the hotel room rather disappointed. An hour had passed, nothing really was happening, we were our own mundane self, though, were constantly in look out for any new sensation within us.

I was trying to sleep when my friend started to yell frantically in his mother tongue. The only word I understood was mother-fucker. I though he was dreaming. Actually he was, but with his eyes open.

I switched on the light. He was restless, and then, soon, slipped into hysteria. He seemed hanging by a thread. "What have you given me?" he asked, as if I had pushed him off the cliff. Of all the things I was worried about: what am I going to tell his parents if he loses his mind permanently?

A moment later, my perception of reality began to change, faster than I could handle--sharper with vivid colours, clarity of depth. I was transported to a three-dimensional fairly land. There was a vague realisation. I, too, am besotted.

My friend started laughing. I must have done something that he thought was funny.

His mouth would stretch out every time he laughed. He wouldn't stop laughing. He was transformed into something scary in this new reality.  My glare bothered him, he told me later.

I felt acutely thirsty. There was no water. I was frustrated. I told him that I am very thirsty. He laughed. I hung my tongue out to show my throat is dry like Atacama Desert.  He laughed louder. I explained him a hundred times that I am not joking. He laughed a hundred times.  The tussle went on for sometime. My struggle helped him rise above his own.

I woke up with swollen eyes. It was a bright sunny day. He wouldn't let me go out of the room to get some water, because I told him 'I am thirsty'. "You are still stoned, will get killed outside," he wouldn't relent. I has to sneak out.

A dose of delusion is good to mix with reality, sometimes. This otherworldly experience has become sacrosanct in my real world. 

My friend, when we meet, often clasps his throat with both his hands, and says dramatically, 'I'm thirsty.'  

And this evening reminds me of this famous Hindi song:

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