Avik's Story

Sir, your coffee as you ordered . The airhostess leaning against me is quite charming; eyes are professional yet pretend to be compassionate. I close the book I was reading. Narcopolis. I was fully engrossed in Jeet Thayil’s narrative prowess and brutally seductive way of storytelling. I also had a short stint with narcotics, when I was dealing with mounting frustration after coming to City of Joy , Kolkata. I can sense the smell of ganja. I can feel the smoke inside, putting a hallucinating blanket, taking the senses far away. I can imagine the view of my room beside a cowshed, like a dingy. I can relate the story with my life, I had. I can sense all of those here, thousands metres above surface, in a small Bombardier airplane, on the way to my office at Trichy from Delhi . Involuntarily my lips stretch a little. I know that, it is a perfect smile and I hear myself speaking in a formal tone, ‘Thank you Miss’. The window seat, I am accommodated, is supposed to be pleasant