Smoking is Injurious to health

I start with a disclaimer. 

*Smoking is Injurious to Health!

Dhumrapan, Sehat ke liye Haanikarak hai 

This story has a lot of talk about smoking and probably should be read basis the permissible smoking age of your country.

Which I am not sure about of my own country. But, I do know the age limits for marriage, voting and driving. It’s because everyone I know who smokes, started much before any possible legal age. I also read a story of a toddler smoking in Indonesia. What a terrible thing to do to a kid. 

We had these Phantom sugary cigarettes which were our only means of acting like we were smoking. And, Winter mornings were situationally more attractive as the steam from our mouth felt like we were letting out the smoke from a cigarette, a way to emulate the flawed adults in our lives.

Anyways, I am not here to make judgements about whether smoking is good or bad. But, after reading so much about smoking you are going to feel like taking a drag, whether you are an active, passive or never smoker. It happened to us once when we walked out of the theatre after watching a 2+ hours movie replete of smoking and drinking. Well, despite the lessons of his terrible life, we both craved for it. Mostly a drink. It was the film Dev D based on the famous alcoholic Devdas. 

It was 1 am on a Saturday night and the only place we could get Daaru at that godforsaken hour is at this Mallu friend’s. He must be drinking and open to company. We called him and for sure, the doors of his house were open where he was already drinking with his Bengali friend. So mallu, tam-brahm and a panju finished a bottle of tequila in 30 minutes flat. Mallu survived the hangover although he was always a bit drunk so no one could figure out the difference. Tam-brahm had the least and passes out after literally 2 shots. This community can’t really hold their drinks, like the Malayalis, the Irish or Punjabis (though, we are always excited, pre or post alcohol consumption).

 

But you see I, the Panju, failed that day. I literally finished half the bottle and was dehydrated to the core the next day. I lay on my summer bed all day sipping fluids – juice, water, chaas and anything in liquid state. I also made a self-promise and public announcement to whosever could hear that I would never drink again. This statement was interspersed with groans and rubbing my painful legs.

That’s the reason why Dev-D holds a special place for us in our all-time favourites. A great but, painful memory.

 

Anyways my point is, don’t blame me if you wish to smoke after this.

 

My father is a chain smoker. Since the time I became aware, he has smoked a-pack-a-day. I don’t know if he has any other smell than that strong burnt tobacco one. I don’t think one likes their own smell or maybe, that’s the exact smell they smoke for. Someone should research this phenomenon. No one really knows why people smoke, other than the fact that they want to. Everyone knows it’s bad but, your body ends up craving the dopamine rush constantly.

 

It’s pure recreation by harming your body. Like a game of boxing or wrestling. I can reject them by calling them man-sports, but the reality is what it is. There is a certain personality of a man which makes them smoke it more and women less. I am curious if there is a survey which says that women smoke more than men (or at least, publicly).

 

My mother hates smoking. I think she wouldn’t have if my father were not a chain smoker. Her constant nagging of my father was a poking thorn in their marriage. He won’t stop and she won’t stop. Me, being my father’s fav and he being an openly biased softie towards me, she used me and my power constantly on him. I tried a lot of tricks - Reasoning, cajoling, requesting, arguing, taunting, fighting and what not. It wasn’t only my mother but my father-in-law and mother-in-law also poked me with a statement that ‘I have no power on my father to make him stop.’ I hated it not because they said it. But because it was true. My father was charmed by all my drama and talks but he was a man of his own mind.

 

My aunt, my father’s sister tried everything too. She would send Nicotine patches from the US of A. He would apply them but, continue smoking. He liked that everyone cared but he was a man of his routine. He wore one style of box pants in 3 colors - black, navy blue and probably brown. He was not leaving his smoking or 2 large pegs/ 5 times a week. Rather, you can see the failure of my power over him (or lack of it) as I had the constant duty of serving him chakhna. He would also ask me to get his bottle. My mother would lament about how he treated me – “People don’t even allow their daughters to touch feet and you are making her touch alcohol”.

 

My dead grandmother would also have tried everything. But this topic with parents is always a sensitive thing. Both don’t know how to talk about it. Here is an adult child whom you can’t slap any more to bring to senses. What would I do if I was my father’s mom? 

 

I knew it even more acutely when I married a man who was also a smoker. Destiny indeed (or is it irony). Or, you do end up marrying a man who is like your father. However, it’s an equally  wonderful and bad idea, their common smoking habits meant something. I had a pact with childhood friend who also had a smoking father. We both agreed it was argh and we will never marry such men. Call it a plot twist we both married smokers and the husbands bond over the common love. 

I subconsciously or trained and fully influenced by mother - took the role of my mother. The duty of reminding and nagging him to leave smoking. From our college days I knew when he would be on a smoke break with his friends. He also held a khata at the college tapri where he would buy a cigarette one at a time. Tea and snacks were also added to this account. And, as his official girl-friend I got the privilege to add-on to it. Yes we were dating in college. If you wish to know about college gossip, thetapri guy is the one to ask. 

 

So, knowing fully well I decided to be with the guy. I used love, power, blackmail, logic, science and what not on him. But he smoked coz he wanted to. The two people who he was scared was of - my in-laws. They were on a public mission to stop people from smoking. My father-in-law claims to have made at least 20 people stop smoking. That’s an ad hoc statistic. I am sure those people told him they stopped smoking but never did.

And, that’s what my husband does with him.

 

I know, because it was me who tattled about his smoking habit to my in laws - twice. It was mostly out of guilt and their comments about me being unable to influence my dad, which made me do it. I think they mentioned my dad but it was them basically asking me to stop their son, or at least that’s what I told myself. My father is beyond me even though my mother hasn’t stopped pushing me. I think parents always know. It’s just that they generally like to believe that their doubts are misplaced and hope they are wrong. It’s difficult being a parent and to stop caring.

 

My father-in-law tried blackmail - he said that he won’t have his medicines if his son doesn’t stop smoking. So my husband told him he stopped and everything went back to normal. We had a Cold War for a few days. He knew I was right but he simply asked me to F*** off so he can live his own life. In all, I have been the vamp of my story. Where the hero wants to smoke in Peace and me - an evil witch continues to torture and tell on him. Somehow we became fighting siblings rather than supportive partners. 

 

I used everyone to make him stop. That too backfired. My own two brothers of blood and beatings formed a gang. Ramesh, Suresh and Himesh joined forces and created a WhatsApp group called Juul (MARHABA 😝) where they discussed their inventory, model design and flavours. They are no worse than women shopping for their clothes. Together, they became a force openly smoking together as a boys’ group. If one’s wife catches him they blame the other. 

We have these in corporates too - the boys’ smoking club with special rooms. If you don’t smoke, you are not part of the club. The college or school culture. The party and clubbing culture. Networking and power play together, whether in corporate or outside. As a woman and a non-smoker I have wondered if I miss out. A part of me doesn’t want to be part of such a club reject the qualifying criteria itself but I have FOMO of not being part of such a powerful group. 

 

My husband and I are playing Tom and Jerry over smoking. He is hiding, sneaking, lying and cheating on me all the time. I am chasing, plotting, planning, loosing, all the time. Mostly I am trying to understand how to get him to stop. What part of his mind and heart do I need to appeal to. I worry, because the smoking advertisements and his family’s Heart history is not a good combination for my over analytical brain. The arguments are tiring.

 

My mother still hasn’t lost the war. Both my parents entering their 70s are still at it - neither giving an inch. And here, I am already losing the battle. One day we sat at the window and he took out a doobie. We smoked it together and I told him that I am done. It’s not my job and I am not your parent. I can’t take your responsibility or the burden of correcting you. We both are adults and can make our own life choices. I can understand women who are dependent on their husbands and need to look-out for their well-being to be secure. I need him like oxygen and will constantly worry about him. But I possibly can’t make him do anything. He is his own man.

This Zee jingle from 90s is stuck in my head since childhood - With a cigarette in my hand I felt like a man. 

 

Despite the rationale for advertisement, to question the misogyny and show the aftereffects of smoking cigarettes. It led to a generation of 90s kids wanting to feel like a man. The message did not land as intended. Well like everything else, smokers don’t need a reason to smoke. They simply blame the tough and stressful life in general and cigarette’s help them blow off the shit in smoke. 

मैं ज़िंदगी का साथ निभाता चला गया

हर फ़िक्र को धुएँ में उड़ाता चला गया