Alcoholism, a topic tightly linked with every malayali on this earth. With statistics backing up the fact that people from the gods own country are the most notorious drunkards, I just want to take a trip down the memory lane. Alcohol, has taken huge toll in m life and have seen people perish through the road taken.
Sunil Uncle, used to be my childhood hero. Wearing a gold tinted ray ban goggle, riding a Bajaj Chetak, around 5 feet 10 inches in height he was my style icon. A shirt button always flipped open and a gold chain dangling down the hairy chest, women used to go ga-ga for him. Drinking was a weekly ritual for him, I would see his wife bitching to my mom on how these parties ruined the only day they could spend together. While cooking dinner, conversations on how he has changed during the course of three years, accompanied by tears adding salt to the curries, seemed to me as episodes of the same serial.
They drank in the main hall and the drinking session called for a lot of requirements, like peanuts, cigarettes etc. I would be called in every 30 minutes and I could break free from home work and importantly from my mom who dictates lessons to me holding deadly kitchen equipments. Though the initial trips of errands would not help, the last ones will bring in some monetary value, Well who would mind paying back a bunch of drunk morons :). Sunil uncle would sing hit Malayalam songs, rushing into the kitchen, he will snatch the knife from my mom and help out in cutting veggies. He would pull his wife close to him and act out tangy love, sometimes would mix well like orange juice and vodka, mostly a wannabe attempt for new cocktail, fails terribly.
At 12:00 in the night, they would get to the neighbor, kick him out of the bed and talk to him, while his half asleep kid hides behind the legendary lungi.I always made a fortune out of selling the accumulated bottles over a span of three months. Alcoholism was no taboo for me, I was getting benefited. Mom never wept, might be she did it within, she had this frozen reactions to the drunk acts of my dad and his friends, as if she had a resolve within not to fight this battle which she could never win. Frequency of drinking, increased to twice, thrice a week. Mornings would be filled with mom fixing up patches on Dad, souvenirs of drunken nights almost made him a legend in his early thirties.
One of the major issues that I saw while the fabric of the family was getting soaked in rum, was the fact that no one listened to Dad. His parents, friends, shopkeepers everyone wanted my mom to take the responsibility, though it was clear that money poured in from dad's pocket. People tend to loose credibility, after a stint with alcohol, the society just gives them a deaf ear. With my mom at the helm of affairs and she bringing in money through some life insurance policy business, ego might have started kicking in. The inevitable happened and the family crashed.
Sunil uncle stopped drinking in glasses, the bottle started gulping him down. Died in a bike accident, with his head opened like a crabs shell. Leaving behind, a six year old son, a beautiful wife ,a stench of vomit and a never ending hangover. Dad still drinks, rather that's what he does. Alienated from the society, from the crowd he pops up at family functions and throws in cash to prove his point, for him to be heard. The scent of hundred rupee notes get's submerged under the stench of alcohol. With all that he had done, alcoholism has created a stain, a shadow on his very existence.
Late night visits of him to the school was scary. Seeing him stooping on to his drunk friends, with a packet of chocolates or some random gifts, I will have the hostel warden breathing fire through my neck, as if I sponsored the party. De addiction centers across Kerala and Tamilnadu, could only hold him back for 60-90 days and he would always be back, back with a bang. Every day, after the De addiction center visits, I would wait for the real Dad to resurface, the wait is grueling, killing. My friends would bet on his come back every Friday and wait at my home. As the clock moves past nine, a smirk cracks up their face. As the light flashes,I would run to the gate and grab the suitcase, trying to sniff out and see if he is still raw. I would have a winners smile, when he didn't smell of Old cask and my friends say the smile is always brighter than the flash light.
Anyways, I saw marriages crash, livelihoods perish. Drinking always had reasons, either it was happiness or something sad. It would be loaded with explanations, about friends who are compelling, about senior officials who do not understand etc. Addiction comes for free, the life from there costs much more than all the pegs of rum ever gulped down. Human body reacts to a situation through stimuli which probably are provoked by smell, taste, memories etc, for drunkards happiness or sorrow loss or gain, life is always visualized through a bottle of alcohol and the image as clouded as a smoking zone in a downtown bar.
Being in a society that's orthodox and would never go forward, would always be way behind the current trends is like being in a gas chamber. Rebels who tend not to agree with current norms escape the world through alcohol, with alcohol in the veins must be they feel comfortable talking to the morons around. Prime reason for alcoholism in my land must be the society itself, where people wait for money orders from the middle east and plan meticulously to spend it , where people queue up to see a girl clad even in a slightly revealing outfit,where the society controls the very life of every individual, it's an open jail clad in green. Kerala, should not be hit with a hard summer, there is too much alcohol within people you could almost see men bursting out like meteors !!!!!!
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