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We Indians Love

Remember the times when we had to walk for kilometres on end from our homes just to buy a piece of Cigarette? Cigarette, to us Indians, is not an addiction but an emotion worth rupees fifteen. It is something we do not take lightly, both metaphorically and literally. The way we smoke our cigarettes speaks volumes about our character. Somebody takes it discreetly, while some love to boast it by blowing out circles.

The reason we love Cigarettes is not because of how cool it makes us look. Trust me, it doesn't. It makes us look like criminals, suicidal, and very much uncool infront of non-smokers. But then again, we do not smoke it to make others feel like that. We smoke in groups. Be it any group - Friends, Cousins, Gangs. Indians make billions of plans to hang out just so they can smoke together in unity. It has the power to bring people closer in a way, only smokers know and feel. The sudden rush of excitement when our friends reveal they smoke too, and we celebrate that moment by lighting one and sharing among many. The crippling sensation that creeps in when Indian parents find that pack of smokes in our tuition bags. With every piece of cigarette we inhale, comes a story. Story of two friends becoming bestfriends over that destructive piece. Story of two lovers who love to inhale and kiss. Story of those staying in hostel, who stay wake till the the right time sinks. I personally have never seen people getting closer more than how a cigarette does it. I don't know what magical powers reside in that small piece, but it automatically lets you share your deepest and darkest secrets with a stranger. That stranger remains a stranger no more.

Judgements are made on what cigarette a person smokes. The most cruel insults to those who smoke the icy flavoured ones. A person's financial condition can be revealed by the costly or cheap piece that he smokes. We smokers can even show respect with that tiny piece. When an elderly walks by, we subtly lower the cigarette and hide it from view so that the smoke cannot touch their skin. We offer a cigarette to people during occasions and in business meetings to show courtesy when in fact, we are giving them a light weapon of death. And being Indians, we will try our best to hide what we do, but at the end of the day, we let all our pains and emotions out smoking that little destructive piece of weapon in the balcony, where only the darkness knows our little secret.

-@roy.ban

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