It was her parent’s death anniversary. She woke up at around 4 am, made a cup of coffee and walked into her balcony. She felt the fresh breeze and the steam coming out of the piping hot coffee.
She wasn’t crying. It’d been four years since their demise. She had cried enough. She kept doing a good deed on their death anniversary. She always got the opportunity to do one. Instead of waiting for one, Tantra thought about going to the nearby orphanage and spend some time with the kids. She wore the Kerala Set-Sari and set off to the orphanage.
Tantra went off on her scooterette. She expected to have a fun-filled day with the kids. She was one amongst them. Her bright white sari made an impression in the bright sun. She crossed the signal and was about a couple of kilometers away from the orphanage when a man riding a bike, spat.
The wind pushed the spit onto Tantra’s sari and dark red stains covered a good portion of the sari. She yelled. The man looked into the mirror blew a kiss and sped. She followed him. She saw a signal. The biker stopped. He had possibly forgotten about her. He failed to look back.
Tantra rammed her scooterette into the rear of the bike. He fell down, swearing. She parked her vehicle and pulled out the keys from the bike. The man stood up in shock with a rather evident question mark on his face. Tantra quickly pulled out her cell phone and called up Roy.
Tantra yelled, “Kya hai yeh!” (What is this?)
The remainder of the conversation happened in Hindi.
The man apologized after having a brief look at Tantra’s stained sari. He asked for the keys.
Roy reached the spot in his car. She pushed the man into the car and Roy drove them to an oncologist.
Tantra had found her opportunity to do a good deed for this day. Rather the opportunity came knocking on her door. The oncologist, Dr. Mukthar, was their mutual friend. She explained in detail to the man the consequences of chewing paan masala and tobacco.
“Tu to ek din mere pe khoon thookega,” (There’ll come a day when you will spit blood on me) Tantra told him. Her eyes were red with anger and frustration realizing that he was the only earning member for a family of 5.
The man had nothing to say. He was a stranger. He might probably think about this and forget.
She expected the man to forget. She had one good explanation. She had been insisting her good friend Tuffy Singh to quit smoking since a couple of years. It kept falling onto deaf ears.She felt she failed as a friend.
She clearly told Tuffy that she wants friends for a lifetime and not someone who will die in a couple of decades due to lifestyle issues. For Tuffy, nicotine was more valuable than a friend. He chose the road to death.
Life is about enjoying. Life is about enjoying in a healthy fashion. Proclaiming that the enjoyment of life comes from doing drugs is probably the most redundant explanation. You’ll probably get a million ways to enjoy life but if you choose a way which compromises your life, it’s your call.
After all, it’s your life.
Make it or Break it.