Herba: Once in, there's no way out.

by Arjun Kramadhati

  Foreword

  First and foremost I congratulate and appreciate Arjun Kramadhati, in choosing the genre of the hour and keeping the readers engrossed through the life of an ‘Addict’. He has thoroughly researched on the topic in depth and has kept the flow going. Readers will get a lot of insights about how drugs can cause disaster in one’s life! The way the theme has been presented is thoroughly captivating and makes the reader not to put the book down till one finishes it. For a novice writer his thought flow, twist and turns in the story, vocabulary, presentation and the maintenance of the suspense makes one to ponder whether he really is a novice author! The book, ‘Herba’ is an eye-opener towards the world of addiction and a must read for youngsters and their parents.

  I wish him all the best for this book as well as for the ones which would follow after that.

  Best,

  Dr.Kalavathi.B.K

  Executive Director

  Anveshana Foundation

  Author’s note

  As far as my young memory stretches, I have always wanted to write a full-length story for people to read. Partly sickened and partly disappointed by seeing the rise of the usual love-tales, I decided to scour for topics that needed some addressing. But, I continually used to come short of finding pressing topics to write on. Topics that were taken for granted. Very soon after I narrowed down my search to such a specific genre, I came across the topic of drug abuse. To my complete surprise, I quickly realized how neglected a situation this was, especially in my country, India. The more I read about it, the more apparent it became that this was indeed a topic of highest relevance. As I probed deeper into the scary statistics of drug abuse, I realized just how diminutive the war-on-drugs is in India. Although a lot of efforts are persistently being made to cull the rise of drug trafficking in the subcontinent, an alarmingly high number of youngsters are finding an easy-as-hell access to these deadly narcotics. Just recently, the authorities of a school found to their utter horror that sachets of Crystal Meth (one of the most addictive drugs known) were being distributed to the children discreetly disguised as pop rocks (a popular candy).

  Of all the drug statistics that I analyzed, one big, worrying thought came upon me. The rate of rise of Marijuana in India is nothing short of being termed severely abnormal. The fact that the ease with which one can procure Marijuana in India is worrying. It is worrying not because of Marijuana per se but because of the ease with which one can get it. The debate that Marijuana is an unfairly cornered and hyped drug has equally well justified points on both sides. Many believe and, in fact, even prove that Marijuana is less harmful than alcohol itself. But, these kinds of facts and statements can always be proved and disproved depending on perspectives. However, there is one irrefutable fact about Marijuana. The fact that it is a gateway drug that leads people to exploring the truly sinister drugs. It is this very fact that vexed me the most. My worries came true when I discovered that along with the Marijuana rise, there was a steady rise of drugs like Heroin and Cocaine. Unlike in the case of Marijuana, when it comes to the case of these drugs, there is no doubt as to how severely it affects the human body. There is nothing to debate upon. Therefore, the rise in Marijuana is leading to the obvious rise in the daddy-drugs. It is this very fact that made me consider this topic for my first novel.

  As I tried hard to come up with an explanation for this sudden rise, it became very apparent that few of these points were one of the main reasons. The points being:

  The youngsters are easily influenced by Western propaganda. Movies, social media and other unaccountable platforms play a huge role in influencing the minds of teens.

  Parents are highly uninformed or rather misinformed on these matters.

  Hence, I wasted no time in finalizing my topic. I quickly got on about researching the science that explains drug addiction. I started interviewing drug addicts and the doctors who treated them. I was now, finally, satisfied. I had a relevant and a pressing issue to write about. I became more and more concerned about the issue as I delved into the subject. As I interviewed more and more addicts I came to understand an undeniable reality. The reality that once in, there is truly no way out. Drug addiction is certainly a one way road with an inexorable dead end. Keeping the topic affixed, I tried weaving up a plot that would subtly educate the readers whilst trying not to bore them about this issue. I believe that the final novel that turned out is more entertaining for the young audience. But, having said that, I want to mention here that I sincerely feel that all parents must read this story. Importantly because I have explained, as briefly and clearly as possible, about few of the most popular drugs that the youngsters of today(in India and elsewhere) are coming in contact with. It always helps, I think, to have a little idea about everything especially if it involves the future of a growing kid.

  Last but definitely not the least important, since I am the author of this novel and the topic being what it is, it is required of me to have a formal stance on the following conundrum. Whether or not Marijuana is an overhyped drug. After having spoken to many an expert in the field, I firmly believe that Marijuana is not over hyped. It is indeed a thing to avoid. Take for example, the case of Cocaine. When a Cocaine user starts regularly snorting Cocaine, the effects and the withdrawal symptoms are clearly seen very early on. And so is the case with alcohol and other substances. The withdrawal symptoms can be easily observed. But, in the case of Marijuana, the withdrawal symptoms and the side effects take form extremely slowly. Therefore, it is very difficult to observe them early on. These symptoms and effects show up later on in life unlike the case in other substances. The delayed action is the very reason that leads many people into believing that Marijuana is harmless. Marijuana is a substance that is a powerful inducer of psychosis. This is a state where the brain loses sync with reality and gets swayed away by realistic hallucinations. Marijuana, also, is one of the very few substances that are capable of causing abnormal cell division. Adding to that, in men, it leads to a stark decrease in sperm count and also modifies few of the genetic traits. This is then, obviously, passed on to the next generation. The list runs long and I can go on listing them one by one. My point being, Marijuana is certainly not a harmless substance. It is certainly not an alternative to alcohol. It is just as harmful as alcohol or even more harmful depending on how one sees it. The question regarding why alcohol is legal whereas Marijuana is not, is something I do not have the proper answer to. But, one thing is certain. Marijuana is not harmless and so is alcohol. To those people who believe that Marijuana is not hurtful, this belief is only because the side effects and withdrawal symptoms are seen quite later on in life. So, stay in control and stay safe.

  Arjun Kramadhati.

  14th December, 2016.

  Special Thanks

  Dr.Sujatha Mohankumar

  Dr.Kalavathy.B.K

  Surya Harikrishna

  Dr.Shayant M

  ‘Caught in the snare’

  “The only person with whom you need to compare yourself is you in the past”

  -Sigmund Freud

  “The ending left me speechless”

  -an anonymous reader

  To mom, dad, abhi, appa and the scoundrels I call friends.

  Chapters

  Colinao.

  Whiff of heaven.

  The proposal.

  Taste of money.

  Herba.

  Meth lab.

  Blitzkrieg.

  The meeting.

  The calm before the storm.

  Gathering clouds.

  The storm.

  Wrecked.

  The revelation.

  The script of Satan.

  Colinao

/>   “He could very well spend a lifetime on the hill, smoking weed with the one person he loved beyond all known limits.”

  The modified Honda scooter snaked its way, tirelessly handling curves of the road up the hill. It was ten in the night. The couple on the scooter knew this route very well. As the scooter cruised at a speed of 40 kilometers an hour, Rocky’s mind went back to the vehicle’s dignified old days.

  It had seen better days until Rocky had chosen to follow suit and modify the vehicle just like how every teenager in the block was doing. The faring of the innocent looking vehicle was ripped apart. The standard headlamps were replaced with bright neon lamps. The cleansing exhaust was removed and a monstrous-sound emitting exhaust pipe took its place. A Bob Marley sticker adorned the sides of the hippie-looking scooter. A few LEDs to the number plate and the vehicle was ready to enter the hipster world. The vehicle now looked nothing like those advertised by the company. It looked more of an ‘art work made from scrap’ that was to be exhibited in a posh uptown abstract museum.

  Rocky’s thoughts drifted to the city he called home.

  He belonged to a city called Colinao in the remote limbs of the South American nation, Argentina. This city was once a big industrial hub. The old industrial buildings remain as a testimony to it. During its heydays, it was one of the most visited cities in Argentina. After the financial meltdown of the nineties, the industries had to shut down and the only big industry that remained was an old garment factory in the heart of the city. Nevertheless, the city boasts of a heavenly South American lush green landscape and scenery.

  It had a low population of about a quarter million. The weather was moderate all round the year with no extremes. The days were warm and the nights were cool, never too harsh. The main source of income was now farming and tourism. Rolling hills, small town, huge acres of agricultural lands, the jungles and the cool weather made it a lazy town and a winner among many tourists. Surprisingly enough, the vice-like grip that the drug industry had on other nations and cities of the subcontinent had somehow skipped this small city. The city had no major drug problems. The drug consumption was comparable to any normal city elsewhere in the world. It was, therefore, quite obvious that the drug cartels who ruled the streets were nowhere nearly as powerful as their Colombian counterparts.

  Three main cartels ran the city’s drug routes and businesses. El Morto, Assesi and Musculo. Their revenues, combined, were miniscule compared to the Colombian drug cartels that rule the drug routes of the entire world. The cartels, although powerful in Colinao, were powerless and almost unheard of outside the city. Nevertheless, inside the boundaries of the lazy city, these three cartels had a fair amount of influence that came easily with their money and muscle power.

  Rocky’s thoughts swirled back to the present. He smiled widely when he thought about the person sitting behind him. The love of his life. Herba was her clan-name. He began recollecting the day he met her. Just like Rocky, Herba too had been christened with a clan-name and just like Rocky, nobody in the clan knew her real name. Nobody really cared to know. Rocky had met Herba in one of the clan meetings. Fuelled by many abstract western movies and the unaccountable social media, Marijuana or ganja (as known in the slangs) had become widespread amongst teenagers and young adults. Clans started sprouting across the teenage world. The clan they belonged to was called Chiba, which was named after the high potency Cannabis grown and smuggled from Colombia. Cannabis was a gateway drug that exposed them to other daddy narcotics.

  Rocky’s wobbly attention came back to the road as he realized that he was late for the weekly clan meet up on the lonely hill.

  The hill, too, had been christened. Stoner Hill it was called. Away from the city buzz and far away from the men of law, it was an ideal location to smoke-up the grass. As protocol dictated, it was Herba’s turn to get the grass for the week’s meet. The two hurried along to join the members who were eagerly waiting for the meet to commence.

  Rocky and Herba joined the rest of the clan members and unloaded the stuff from the bag for the clan to see and acknowledge. The precious dry heap that was nestled in the ziplock cover was not ready to be smoked-up. The clan collectively acknowledged as they saw the green heap in the cover. The air around the clan suddenly became energetic.

  †††††††

  Marijuana is a flowering herb with iconic serrated leaflets. The magic compound in the leaves is tetrahydrocannabinol popularly known as THC, a psychoactive compound that kicks the user into an euphoric dizziness. The plant itself is a marvel when it comes to adapting to its surroundings. It grows on the foothills of the harsh Himalayan mountain ranges, it grows in the densest jungles of the South American continent, it grows in the unfertile plains of the vast Russian expanse, it grows literally everywhere.

  The adaptation to the surroundings also changes the characteristics of the plant. Hence, Himalayan Marijuana is different from the plants grown in Colombia. The leaf shape, colour and even the THC blow, which the weed gives, changes with the terrain in which it grows. It is widely believed and accepted that the Marijuana plants grown in Colombia is the highest quality Cannabis that one can lay hands on.

  ‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

  As Rocky took in the first whiff from the joint, he closed his eyes and relaxed, letting himself sink into the hard rocks on the side of the hill. A few more whiffs and he could sense the magic happening. With bloodshot eyes, Rocky turned to Herba and held her hands.

  ‘Why does everything feel so much more beautiful and calm after smoking-up?’ He thought to himself.

  The night sky had brought out the stars with it on that calm night atop the Stoner Hill. Rocky gazed at the abundantly serene expanse in front of him. He then turned his gaze to the sky full of stars and instantly fell into a well of revolving worlds. As he closed his eyes, he felt his soul trying to fly away as though it was never meant to be caged and chained in an earthly body like his.

  High on Marijuana, the clan enjoyed around the fire they had lit. Cannabis had shown them a new world amidst the dull grey reality that they lived in. Their minds flew through a twisty maze of fun. The silliest of things made them laugh. They laughed, danced and sang around the fire. The stars seemed brighter and bigger. The fire seemed calm and slow in its graceful dance over the splintering wood pieces. The lub-dub of the heart seemed so much louder. The restless movements of air seemed so much gentler. It was as if everything around was trying to pamper them to a good night’s baby sleep. They were all completely floored by the effect of the weed.

  Rocky’s grip on Herba’s hand tightened as he felt the rush of love. He loved her very much. The THC exaggerated every feeling in his body. He felt his love for Herba triple as he glanced at her gentle face. She glanced back and smiled in the most clement way known to human kind. He could very well spend a lifetime on the hill, smoking weed with the one person he loved beyond all known limits. Rocky could see his soul dancing in the air with Herba, with the rolling hills in the backdrop.

  His eyes closed, heavily with sleep.

  Whiff of Heaven

  “He suddenly seemed to have answers to life’s greatest problems.”

  Rewind two years to the pre-Cannabis days of Rocky. He bore no resemblance to the weak Rocky we know of. The twenty-year old ‘good boy’ Rocky was a fit and an able academic. Taller than the average Joe with strong athletic structure mixed with a bold jaw line made him a winner in the eyes of the girls. Rocky’s looks, surprisingly, did not resemble his South American origins. Apart from the slightly bigger nose, he made a handsome youngster. He scored well in his tests and played a ton of sports. He was the ideal kid that every parent wanted in his or her child. With a strict Catholic upbringing, Rocky knew nothing of the world of narcotics and the delusional tales it brought along with it. The normal Sunday for Rocky involved going to the Sunday mass followed by a game of football with his friends. Like any other Argentinean, he worshipped Lionel Messi as though he was Jesus reincarnated. He would actively pa
rticipate in the prayers and sing along. His confessions only involved tales of how he lied to his strict dad and went out for a movie with friends. Having lost his mom at a very early age in a freak car accident, Rocky had no one but his dad left to call as a family. His dad, an average built stern Catholic, was a hustler at his job. The seams and crevices on his face and palm only proved this fact more. With a short and weak build, he wondered how his son had grown so tall. Rocky’s dad contained all of the classic South American features. Broad nose coupled with a tanned complexion and a face drawn with a lot of wrinkly facial lines.

  Rocky’s dad worked in the nearby garment industry as an assistant quality inspector. He had no social life. Most of the money he earned was channeled directly towards Rocky’s upbringing. Unlike his father, Rocky had a healthy social life. Rocky would often go on long hikes with his friends to an isolated hill, which they all loved. The hill that would one day be named Stoner Hill. The hill that would one day see the boy transforming into Rocky. Rocky was more than often bored about his mundane lifestyle. He continually wished to do something adventurous and truly memorable. He wished to do something outside of the constraints dictated by his rigid upbringing.

  Rocky always wanted to become an author. He would read novels hours on end admiring the mastery of language and vastness of the creativity of the authors. “How can I ever become one of them?” he would always wonder. Rocky tried his hand at short stories. He admired his work, feeling satisfied with the flow of thoughts. However, he never once could understand how someone could write such huge novels with witty plots and still manage to captivate the readers. He tried a lot of plots with a lot of twists but could never manage to make it into a full-fledged novel. This did not deter him. He would often sit for hours together contemplating on it. Unfortunately, a good plot always managed to evade him. He became obsessed and desperate in finding a plot. He could think of nothing else but his pursuit of finding a worthy story.