when i drown in you,don’t save me,

when i wont wake up,don’t cry by me,

just let the memories hang in the air,

and let it rain

whisper the wind with the warmth you hold

the smile you hide,

the poetry you mould,

and let it rain

hold my hand when i will be cold,

shriveled and old.

and when the darkness falls,before the end 

let me in your soul

and let it rain..

                                                                 —aditya vishnu

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one last smoke before i die…

if it weren’t for my lungs i would have taken to smoking like a fish in water. its like the attraction of candy bar for kids, the smell of minty fresh breath before the kiss or the smell of roasting boar for the hungry Romans. the trail of smoke left behind , as the whiff of pure smoke takes away the pain from pain,guilt from regret and leaves you with relief of an accomplished soldier. the lightness of the cigarette across your fingers as you hold it nonchalantly,, makes your own image so sexy. i know, it is the narcissistic hunger which loves the attention,but havent we ll thought of picking up the last dying butt glowing in its blazing glory.
yes, smoking kills. and it does so with such vehement appeal of the masses.yes, we all know the company’s mala fide intention of keeping us hooked.yes, we can see the media playing the devil’s advocate and whispering the joy of the whiff. our parents warned us. so did your teachers.even the dying man mere forty as he coughed blood on his silk shirt. the skeletons across the packet smilingly sniggers of how closely we resemble in future now so far from today as we hold the same Marlboro. but all of this shuts down the constant blaring against shine of its red embers and plume of nicotine working its magic till the last blood capillary through my Veins. the very first drag that you take, kills the switch to the Mortal world.

it is quite surprising for me to even dwell on smoking. i have been the staunchest advocate of “NO SMOKING” policy. i even had it embossed against my door while my friends started to use my bowl as an ashtray when was living alone in Jaipur with a living chimney(RAJKUMAR MEENA) inside.i survived a heartbreak and didnt smoke. funnily , the breakup owed one of its roots to my vehement opposition -the self-professed messiah of”ANTI SMOKING COMMITTE”. didn’t take up the lighter during my troubled teens, not even when my friends were losing their oral virginity. i even had the audacity of questioning my really scary brother-in-law who is a great lawyer. i wondered, if it really so the magic to the self-confessed chain smokers.they swore by its ability to make you crap daily in the morning.i lived through most of my hostel life,in a boarding school and did not get tempted.all of this changed one happy night, post gate-crashing into 7 consecutive marriages.it took me a little coaxing by one of seniors and a small demonstration of the simplest trick in smoking-hold it lightly,suck,inhale air, and exhale. my conscience still held its guard till the last dying second with my senior and another junior pumping me up. i know it sounds really silly, but for some reason i just let it go. the guard i had held for 21 years surrendered like french soldier n world war 2.i held it reluctantly and took the first shot. it felt like sucking in pure ash and smoke. honestly it felt bad. i was a little relieved too. thank god, its not as delicious as molten chocolate,no way in hell am i getting hooked to this bugger.but the smoke did not come out of my nostrils, some of it remained inside. they hid in the darkest corner of my flabby stomach and plotted. and they spread to the extremities and since then have raged a guerrilla war.damn,it just took one shot.

since then i have hardly been a smoker. i call myself so,because that now i have tasted blood, i feel the cravings of the wolf on dark lonesome nights.somtimes, it gets the better of me. sometime i have even taken two little white mercenaries back to back- India won the world cup, people around me danced shirtless while i stood in the corner with my lady between my fingers, and i puffed.there are occasions, when i can see myself extending my limits and creating a reason to let the smoky euphoria cover me.

but the chances are i will always stop myself, as i love life more than i love a bloody cigarette. i have been a good athlete and love running. and i also stop myself because i still preserve myself from the other times when i had never picked up the butt.i can hear my ex laughing as she looks into my eyes and says-“hows life now…?” . but the tussle continues. I battle my smoky side with ever so stoic steadfastness of a samurai. But the allure still drives me towards it.

If only it were not for my lungs…

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