Disclaimer: This post does not promote the use of recreational cannabis. The aim of this post is as always, to educate and inform our readers about the complex narratives that play out in the world, leading human beings to undertake sojourns well outside their existing comfort zones.
Date: 26th October, 2017
Time: 21:07 p.m
“If you could erase any incident from your memory, that you aren’t proud of particularly, what would that be?”
Malcolm was inside a drug peddler’s car, an inconspicuous black Toyota sedan, parked inside a gigantic parking lot inside a prominent business park located in Bangalore. The man glared at him, his expression, a mix of hostility and wariness.
The man was a seasoned professional in his field, a consultant for a host of technology companies, and a part time drug peddler, growing cannabis in his basement for recreational and medical purposes. He was married with two kids, both studying abroad, one in England and the other in Australia.
At this moment, they were both intoxicated.
“What’s your answer?” Malcolm prompted the man.
The man grinned suddenly.
“Cut the shit out, just pay me and fuck off. I gotta say you aren’t like the dorks I usually sell my product to.”
Malcolm passed a wad of currency. The man grinned again, gleefully accepting.
“Malcolm, my man! You’re a good kid”
Malcolm smiled sheepishly, glad to enter the man’s good books. He had met him through a mutual friend at a pub in Indiranagar, an upscale locality of Bangalore.
“Here’s the deal kid, I gotta go to work now. You only call me between six and nine in the mornings, Ok? Today’s an exception I’ve made for you.”
“I’m in. Thanks for this.” Malcolm beamed.
“Cool, get out.”