March 16, 2014

The miracle of life

The first time I saw him was in dilapidated tavern which remotely bore a resemblance of brothel with erotic placards hung loosely over the walls. The rusted fan failed to cool the customers and the room gradually teemed up assorted sweats. His deep socketed blood shot eyes and high cheek bones brought me dreadful impression. No doubt, he was no lesser than what I have long before doubted.

I feared the idea of befriending his company. But as a first timer in distant East, I had no other choices than to know him better with each passing day. Somehow, we got linked through our common friends.

Since he was couple of years elder to me, I revered him like I did to my own kin. However, He never revealed his good name and insisted me to call “dost” because he found it cool by that name and I already thought it fool.

Despite his decent status and beautiful quarter to house in, he was not happy. What was going astray wondered me? Although he didn’t make any mention of what was wrong with him, I was confident that it would come unfurling sometime later. Hence I didn’t dare to ask either.

His reckless splurging of money on procuring stuffs and getting stoned everyday gave me no room for going beyond than usual.

How could he be so sumptuous, spending huge amount on something that is of no good to him? In my eyes, I saw him buying early death and living many days at a time. To my dismay, he was even ready to spare his everyday necessities and travel miles in search of doses only to seek fugitive joy.

One time, he toured me around his friends place. They all had one thing in common- a portrait of Bob Marley to which all of them were greatly influenced. Hardly anybody cared for what was there in the dinner. How they were going to get the next stock was their concern.

Sadly, I have watched plenty of the amateurs spewing out what they have just forcefully inhaled in and saw them get tortured like poisoned rats. Only few wise could make their way out of the league. Many morons found it cool like my friend once did and committed every evening simply to power up what they proudly called capacity.

Alas! It paid the final price. Before I could grasp him further, he was fired from job. After that, his presence became extinct.

Intriguingly, a man in whom I saw death once is now living by the high morale. I met him last winter. Eyes which were once blood red became hopeful and life which was once unlit got lighted now. He was refined and had put on lots of weight.

Since his French leave, he had been helping people from all walks of life with his experiences in drugging and extricated many from the dope way. I looked up to his noble deeds with great admiration almost forgetting the wound of his memories.

I offered prayers for his sobriety and way before I could say goodbye, he talked a book “The miracle of life” authored by him.

I am hopeful that the book will hold treasures for those caught in the mesh of addiction and bring miracle like it had to him.

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