The Phoenix's rebirth!!

New Year’s Day today. The air is redolent of exhilaration and joy as people throng the streets to celebrate and absorb the unknown energy, generated from vacuum, which unites even strangers. I wish I could join them. But today I have taken a risk. To keep my shop open even after 11pm. I fetch the maximum on these occasions. I own a pan shop. CLASSIC PAN SHOP. People call me (and probably my entire community) “The Panwala”. Ironically, I earn more by selling myriad branded cigarettes than by selling pan. In India somehow traditional names cling on to shops that no longer associate importance to them. I am so used to phrases like ‘bhaiya dho kings’ ‘ek pack mints’ etc that I call them clichés now. I like customers who ask differently. Like ‘wo paach rupee wala dena’ ‘mujhe apni dosth se mila le bhaiya’ or even ‘wo dena jo mujhe swarg ko bejthi hai’. I never exactly realized what the last phrase meant. Until today…

A unique noise seemed to divert the joyous mood. A noise that freaks me every time my eardrums vibrate due to it. The siren of an ambulance it was. And rather shockingly it was going to the flat whose occupant I knew very dearly. He was my most valued customer and a good friend moreover. He worked in the IT industry. I am not good at stats but I guess every other customer of mine works in the IT industry. Money brings with it the need to find an alternative way to relax and ease the tension. They are good people generally. But everyday, every night in fact, when they return from their workplace, there will be a sudden rudeness in their tired, lifeless eyes. They always seem to have something wrong to say about their bosses when they crush the butts of the 5-minute wonders they just relished. They are my target segment. They are my feeders. They are my friends. And one of them, I perceive, was in some danger tonight…

Big danger! I thought, looking at my friend who was taken inside the ambulance rather quickly. His clothes were wet with blood and his eyes told a sad story. I saw a glimpse of his silhouette from within the ambulance and I started wondering. Wondering how chubby he used to be; full of energy and exuberance; obviously happy with his first job as he moved over to my locality. It all started with curiosity about why people smoke. That was his first question to me. I told him that I compared it to a phoenix which periodically burns itself to death and emerges from the ashes in another form to service its master. He eventually tried one and never gave up. He used to tell me how things are in his office and how he used to be careless till college. The occasional 2 minute conversations I have with my customers makes me kill time in an otherwise boring job. But this guy had some charisma around him. Anyone would instantly like him. But of late he started reducing the talks and used to buy the 5-min wonder in bulks. Maybe something was bothering him I had assumed. But I was not bothered as long as I was benefited…

I peeped into the house, now vacant. I saw blood covering the floors of the hall. He vomited blood! No, he slashed his wrists! It’s a suicide attempt! , many gossiped. Maybe it was. He last told me that his life was in disarray as his job was becoming unsafe due to recession and that his girlfriend had ditched him for some reason. These are stories I hear often nowadays so it didn’t mean much to me then. I looked around the house. Butts! The house was replete with sporadic colonies of cigarette butts. This was the moment that struck me hard. I felt responsible in some way. Maybe some might argue (even I used to) that it satiates the tired soul. But as I have always heard, it takes the individual into deeper depression. I believed that now. As I walked back to my shop, I made a decision. I took a marker and modified my shop banner. It now read “CLASSIC PAN (only) SHOP”. And I collected all the cigarette packets I had and made a bonfire out of it in front of his house. The wind started blowing hard and swept away the lump of ash that was being formed. For you my friend! I shouted at the top of my voice. Maybe he will hear it somehow. Maybe he was not even alive till then. I never got to know…