Purple Haze

“Sex and drugs,
rock N rave
lets get smashed
and misbehave
on speed and weed
and little e’s
lets get high
and talk to the trees
life’s a trip and then you die
So screw them all
And lets get High!”

The song reverberated across the room as she downed another shot. The air was heavy with smoke. Each breath she took was punctured with the distinct smell of alcohol.
The room was a technicolour den of expensive, consumable vices. All around people where swirling to the DJ’s beats losing themselves to the music vibes. She poured some more of the devoured Green Apple into her glass. The tripping disco lights made her feel dazed. Just then Radz handed her another half smoked joint. She took in a drag and let herself get lost under a purple haze.

She was at her best friend Rad’s birthday bash at her bunglow at lonavala. She’d been looking forward for this day since what seemed aeons now. She had been aching to escape the daily grind, the deadlines; the pressure of her daily existence. She just wanted to unwind, relax and have a good time. This certain amount of social pilferage was necessary to keep a society more liveable. “Hey they are playing your song!”, exclaimed Rads gesturing towards the dance floor. She snapped out of her self imposed stupor and looked towards the dance floor. The sound which was just a combination of strong bass and electronica enchanted her ; drove her to the dance floor. She made her way past the couples who were grinding to the beats of the music to the centre of the dance floor and surrendered herself to the music. Within minutes she was dancing with this really cute guy wishing to dance away the night. It was blissful. She wished that the moment could last forever .

Thud! And the main door of the bunglow was forced open. In the blurry of events which ensued she could see a couple of uniformed policemen enter followed by an entourage of wildly snapping photographers. ‘You all are under arrest’, beamed a voice as all of them were rounded up and dumped into a police van. Within hours her one night of fun was distorted into a nightmare. As she blankly gaped at the prison bars she reached for the ‘lil e’ in her pocket. Soon it was on the tip of her tongue and she in ecstasy. Atleast she couldn’t get into deeper trouble.

We found them all on the front pages of newspapers and as breaking news on your TV sets that week. One, cop from Pune’s rural police, had busted a party on private premises. He took along news reporters to shoot images of the said raid: “Nashakhoron par chhapa!”.The media lapped up the incident highlighting the police’s cause and quoting the beaming officer saying, “First, try to be a good cultured Indian. Then try to be western.” The police force was lauded for simultaneously upholding Indian “culture” and withholding its “rich and famous”, “uncultured” youth.

One sure hopes the police hand-picked the international drug-traffickers, other serious social deviants at the place. Because by what Rads had to say most, at best smoked cannabis; very few tripped on harder stuff; fewer still were rich, irresponsible, threatening, deranged or famous. Most others were probably drinking at a local pub the weekend after college or work instead of being at the druggie bash. Well they did spend days in the infamous jails along with the hardened criminal, robbers, rapists and the petty thieves. They were after all a bunch of destructive drug addicts, and it seems; some apparently prostitutes (the way you view women or men is also a judgment on your eyes). You mix the grey with black, as in this case, you either push a minor sub-culture to a notorious under-belly, or give it all the semblance of rebellious “cool” when none exist. Most of the viewers polled on the plethora of news channels, including my parents, saw this as a valiant and vital effort at preserving our culture from the evil western influences.

The same Holi, there was a nation-wide rave organised in the name of a religious festival. The streets sold cannabis. Everyone drank them mixed with sweet milk. The traffic moved sleepily, people danced and grinned with their shirts off. Nobody was arrested. But I guess, that is our culture. So it’s all right.