I reached the college auditorium,
just in time to sign up for the final registrations. I was auditioning for the
debating society a.k.a DebSoc . It
was my freshman year and I really wanted to hit it with the DebSoc. I was pretty active in the
school debating events but for a rookie from a small town school, the scale of
change to the college life at a metropolis was enormous enough to leave her intimidated. I realised that the sweat from my palms had dampened the registration
slip in my hands. I went to the ladies room and splashed some water onto my
face. Another girl entered the washroom – one of the seniors from my
Department and also the President of the DebSoc.
Trisha placed her bright red tote next to my backpack and started blending
her bronze eye shadow with newly applied green one. Then she took out the mascara
from her pouch which had a clutter of creams, lip balms, a lip gloss, a few
capsules and an inhaler. I could not help but notice the yellowish margins of her teeth as she applied the gloss.To my embarrassment, I realised that she had noticed
me staring at her. Before she could give me a piece of her mind, I uttered “Sorry”
and took a quick exit from there to evade the awkward situation. The episode added
to the nervousness.
Suddenly, I felt someone tap on my shoulder.
It was Trisha. I went numb and in my mind I could already hear myself being christened
“shithead”, “weirdo” or "Miss wannabe". “My college years are doomed
already” – I thought. My futuristic vision
abruptly ended when I felt the tapping grow vigorous.
“Are you okay?”- She said… I
struggled with “Yes..yeah and yeps”!” and the next moment, before I knew it,
she had pulled me backstage. She pulled out a cigarette from the front pouch of
her tote and lit it. After a drag or two, she offered it to me. I stammered -“I do not..I do not” without
trying to sound rude about it. Before she could say anything else, I heard the
emcee announce my name to come up for the debate trial. I auditioned fine but
did not rank high enough to get in the society. I was quite upset and did not
feel like attending the rest of the classes for the day. I started walking back
towards my hostel. At the college gate, I had another encounter with Trisha. She
was en route home too with a couple of her friends. She called out – “Heya.. why
are you so flushed… stop being so hard on your self…you can always give it a try
next year.” I looked at her and smiled…. with some effort though. She lighted
another smoke and kept me company, telling me about the popular hangouts nearby.
She coughed a lot, during the conversation and the tissue she threw was red. I
vaguely paid any attention to this as I was constantly thinking about the unsuccessful
audition. Suddenly I looked at her and
said – “can I borrow a smoke?” She lighted another one and gave it to me along
with a few tips on the protocols of smoking. It was a regular brand and the packet
had a black and white close up image of a grotesque looking person. The text
beside the picture read – “SMOKING KILLS”. In my mind I said –“whatever..!”and
took a drag. ….
……I started coughing hoarsely. My
throat went dry and I felt a squelching pain in my chest. I opened my eyes and
saw that I had fallen asleep on the doctor’s reports itself. I held them in my hand
helplessly and wished for the reports to be wronged. It was my lung biopsy report
which read “POSITIVE FOR LUNG CANCER.” I walked across the room towards the
mirror. My room was dotted with cigarette stubs and packets. I had grown a
chain smoker over the years. I looked at my reflection and I could see the
grotesque man from the cigarette packet in it. I was shattered….I wished I had not
been foolish enough to ignore the warning signs before I asked for my first
cigarette from Trisha.
(photo credits - http://ja-lashley.deviantart.com/art/Smoking-Kills-177208215)
For tips on healthy habits look onto http://www.myhealthyspeak.co.in/
(photo credits - http://ja-lashley.deviantart.com/art/Smoking-Kills-177208215)
For tips on healthy habits look onto http://www.myhealthyspeak.co.in/
No comments:
Post a Comment