High on life... and memories

Miraj Chauhan

Am I drunk?’ I asked, to which I received an answer in the negative. Snobbishly I averred that I would have one more. It was a boozing session that lasted five hours and five bottles, between five men. 

In the prime of my life when my career graph witnessed an upsurge, I took to occasional drinking at club parties. Vanity had enshrouded my otherwise humble soul. It is a fact that the ones who drink never fall short of company. A table with shimmering bottles of Scotch and an exclusive attendant who would be at one’s beck and call, is no less than a divine feeling for boozers. 

The first drink begins to loosen one up. The chatter takes a sudden turn on the second round of the roller-coaster ride, when the tone shifts from formal to informal. Even introverts start exhibiting the characteristics of extroverts. It helps one escape the vagaries of life, even if momentarily. 

I did not even get to know when I transformed from an occasional drinker to an alcoholic. The urge for alcohol grew in intensity over the years and took a toll on both my professional and personal life. I would wait with bated breath for the evenings, for my daily dip in the sacred pool of wine. After crossing over to oblivion, the next thing I would remember is lying in my bed with shoes on. With a great deal of discomfort and reluctance, I would drag myself and get ready for another gruelling and monotonous day at work the next day. This continued relentlessly until a mishap took place. 

I returned home at midnight once and fell asleep. After about an hour, my wife shook me in desperation, saying my mother had got an asthmatic attack and we needed to rush her to hospital. I could only hear her, but not react. It was an irresistible force; like a nightmare that kept me bed-bound. I was buried deep in slumber. She tried her best to wake me up since there was no one else at home. But she lost the battle against an intoxicated man. Later, my wife gathered the neighbours and rushed my mother to hospital in time, thus saving her.

The next morning when I regained consciousness, I learnt what had transpired and how it would have cost me my mother’s life. I was shattered. I promised my mother and my wife that I would never touch treacherous alcohol in my lifetime. 

I have found new and productive ways of making merry. I spend time with my family and make memories that matter; memories that have an ever-lasting impression; memories that intoxicate me with the most beautiful feeling in the world. I am relishing my new-found dosage of intoxication, and it is far better.