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(This is not a sex story. It is real story which I implore all teenagers and young people to read. It is very short, you can read it in few minutes and it might have a profound effect on you or your friends or near and dear ones)
I am an Engineer in Merchant Navy and have traveled to all continents and many countries, including several which are notorious for production and consumption of drugs. It was quite easy to procure, consume and get addicted to drugs. But I always steered clear of them. You know why? Read the following story.
When I was a young Junior Engineer, I used to stay at Seamen’s club in Mumbai. I and friends used to visit all shipping companies, searching for jobs. It was a depressing, dreary routine, going in the hot sun and receiving blanks. We used to divide into groups, one group would go to Nariman point another to Colaba, yet another to other small companies. In the evening we would drown our sorrows in beer and sleep dreaming of a cheerful tomorrow.
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There was one very tall, handsome Young man of our age, with flowing long black hair and beard. He was also a Junior Engineer like us and was job hunting. He used to land up a job almost immediately while we would wait for months.
He was very outgoing, fun loving and had a boisterous laugh. He had the confidence that comes naturally to kids born in wealthy families and had attended the best schools of very high standard. His usual hang out place with friends was the Parsi restaurant in the adjacent lane. We saw him many times laughing, joking and having a rollicking time with his circle of friends. There was no doubt who was footing the bill. He was a very generous host. We were naturally jealous and cursed our luck for not having been born in wealthy families with silver spoons in mouths. The whole world would have paved red carpet where ever we go.
But curiously, he would be job hunting again within 2 to 3 months. We were surprised and found out later that he was addicted to drugs and none of the Chief Engineers wanted him. Slowly his disrepute got circulated widely and he began to have a tougher time finding jobs than us. I joined a very good company, had a steady job and my visits to Seamen’s club had become less frequent. But whenever I visited I used to see him. Every year he was deteriorating both physically and socially.
Once I and a friend stepped out of Seamen’s club after waiting for a heavy downpour to stop and a beggar extended his arm. He was drenched in rain and was shivering.
I got a jolt when he said in fluent English “Sir, please give me money. I was also an Engineer.”
I was shocked and stared at his torn, dirty tee shirt, torn pant and make shift foot wear. His long hair and beard was shaggy, unkempt and matted. His eyes and cheeks had sunken to shallow pits. He was skeletal. As I took out my wallet my friend told me in my language (In India, we have many official languages, which are as different as Dutch and Portuguese and we can’t understand each other’s language) not to give money as he would spend it on drugs but to give him food instead.
We took him to the same Parsi restaurant and paid for his food. He could not enter the hotel. Waiter gave him food and he sat on the foot path and ate his meal. I felt very sad, I could still picture the lively, handsome young man who was sitting in the same hotel with his friends, laughing and enjoying life.
Next year the writing was on the wall. I knew his end was near. This time he begged me “Sir, I was also an Engineer, please don’t give me money. Just pay for my tea and biscuits” I paid for his meal.
I went back to the Seamen’s club and asked the staff why they didn’t try to inform his family. It turned out that his dad was a very rich industrialist in Delhi and he took him back several times and tried to rehabilitate him. Every time he would run away and land up here. His family finally got fed up and washed off their hands.
That was the last I saw him.
I know he was gem of a man. He allowed himself to wither and die rather than harm or injure any one to support his vice. Even when his drug loaded or starved mind was creating hallucinations and playing tricks, he would never harm anyone. All his cluster of friends who laughed with him, enjoyed life at his expense were nowhere to be seen. In all probability, he must have begged them also and wondered why they could not afford to buy him a meal. Or did he duck and hide to escape being seen by his friends in his present state?
Finally at what point does a father, mother or brother stop loving? No doubt, he must have made life hell for his parents to the point of disowning him. But, as a parent can you bear the thought of your son begging on streets and was there nothing that could have been done to make his last days more peaceful and less humiliating and painful? These were the questions reverberating and echoing in my mind, whenever someone suggested smoking a joint. If I had not seen that unfortunate young man’s plight, in all probability, I would have been tempted to try once and who knows where it would have ended?
He would have become a very brilliant Engineer and would have reached pinnacle of success. How many thousands of flowers are withering and dying needlessly before blossoming? Are few moments of ecstasy worth the torture, pain and agony not just to victims to their families as well?
And it all starts with a “Harmless” joint for fun…………………………… may be his downward journey started with that ‘Harmless “joint for fun……………………