After spending seventy four minutes on his friend’s couch gazing into space and imagining nice things like companionship and alcohol, Sins decided to sleep. He hadn’t slept the previous night because, the whole time he had a constant feeling that there was something inside in his head, something that was preventing him from lashing out, like a stubborn cork that sought to keep his emotions bottled up inside.
He had tried closing his eyes, feeling his gentle breathing vibrating across his chest, until he heard the shrill whistling like sound reverberating inside his head. He shook his head, by now heavy with exhaustion, compounded by alcohol and marijuana, partially relieved by cigarettes, like a full fledged agenda of making him hurtle toward anything comfortable and loose himself in sleep, with no thoughts about about waking up the next day.
He felt the aura of negativity emanating from him in full discourse, exactly as Starr had told him a few nights before, during the course of their final call as individuals with feelings for each other. He had wept a little, not much, very little, a sudden smothering of tears, which welled up inside his eyes, and vanished with a firm resolve as soon as it had appeared, trying to understand her words, no doubt intending him to act upon them and rouse himself from the pit that he had dug himself into, before it was too late.
His friend strode into the hall with an urgency he had seen before many times, his drunken grin firmly in place, looking down at his lazy figure almost like pity, like a starving dog fed a rotten bone. He opened the drawer to Sins’ left, a five feet high cabinet divided into five shelves, and removed a fresh packet of cigarettes from the bottom shelf. He smelt the tobacco before lighting it up and savoring the smoke inside his lungs, holding it inside, waiting for no one in particular, before exhaling a quantity much lesser than what he had inhaled. Sins stared at him, poker-faced as always.
“What’s up?”, he asked.
“She told me I can’t connect with anyone on an emotional level, and hoped that I would”, Sins replied.
“Nonsense. She wanted more attention”
“It felt real when she said that, and I’m not really the socially cool one anyway. I’m not the life of the party, you know what I mean”
“Where did you keep the marijuana?”
“Beside the tobacco”
“Don’t worry about these things. You’re cool. You’ll find the ‘one’ soon, I’m sure. Even if you don’t, you’ve always got a plant backing you up”, he winked.
“That’s true, that’s true”, he nodded happily.
His hands moved roughly over the stems, delicately separating the seeds from time to time deftly, by using the gravity separation method. Sins had watched this process for the past six years, always accompanied by a sense of anticipation, the feeling of excitement before a long trip, in this case, literally.
“I think something’s wrong with me”, Sins said. He looked up slowly, diverting his gaze from the A4 sized paper, making sure the crushed marijuana wouldn’t topple from his lap. “What do you mean, exactly?”, he replied.
“I’m not growing. I know, we both have jobs that pays us well, but somewhere, I get the feeling that something is missing, we could have more, we could do more, its just that we don’t have a plan, a projection in place, you know, like a target. We’re just aiming to make a ton of money by trying to switch from one place to the other, or changing industries altogether. What we need is a gamechanger”
“True”, he replied, having filled up a massive dose of marijuana in the bong, and smoked it all in one go. He grinned again at him, like a child. Sins felt better all of a sudden, as he clutched the instrument in his hands, as if his life would never be the same again. A couple of moments later, he was digging into the chocolate ice-cream, he had stashed in the fridge hours ago, in a deliberate show of delaying instant gratification, waiting for the moment when his taste buds would be inflamed with insatiability, which it was now.
Gamechanger..emanated from his lips, as he crashed down on the living room couch with no thoughts, darkness rushing in from all sides, enveloping him in the comforting embrace of exhaustion mingled with a faint tinge of becoming productive, tomorrow..
Marijuana Maharaj 