To whomsoever it may concern

It was raining cats and dogs. I ran for shelter under the shredded roof of a betel shop. Feeling the chill of the weather outside, I shivered from within and asked for a cup of tea, gulped it down my throat but still didn’t feel any warmer. Suddenly I got disturbed by the smell of burning nicotine. Yes, that white long stick distracted me or may be attracted me. I suddenly felt, may be that’s what keeps people warm but you just hate the smell of it and say," yuck!" . Or may be. . . . its worth it!!!
Dry and fine, I join my friends and their so-called "better halves" for coffee at an obscenely expensive coffee-shop. I’m kind of the uncool individual there, without a girl, without the stick within my fingers. I move my eye balls from faces to the fingers (this time the stick looks longer, may be to impress the girl), up to the mouth following the trail of smoke, at times even rings! Even if I’m wearing Levi’s and Nike, I am still way below being called a cool guy. I think I’m hurt for not being cool.
Sunday afternoon laziness . . . a heavy lunch retards my pace as I walk upstairs to my friends’ room. And again, the same white stick, the same stinking smoke but this time used for lightening your tummy a bit and may be act as the finishing touch to your lunch. As if water couldn’t suffice, that you had to take help of smoke . . . simply ridiculous! And suddenly, my best friend takes a puff for the first time and says its "good". That was enough to raise my hand and ask for IT. All mind games had been battled out and I had finally decided. I somehow manage to get it within the index and middle finger, very unprofessionally and now managed to get it between the lips. Friends looking in sheer excitement and smiling in sarcasm. I try breathing in through the mouth, smoke fills my mouth and I spurt it out in discomfort. The smiles turn into laughter and my injured ego forces me to go for another puff. And I say it feels "better" pointing to my best friend.
First steps of sinful misconception!
Thoughts come flooding into the mind. I think of all the years without a puff, my parents, I had thought I had fought all the mind games but this was just the beginning.
Days pass by. Now I don’t go by puffs, it’s the number of sticks that count. And I lose count of them as well. I now feel like a true "cool" engineering student. I show off my cigarette wherever I can, preferably in a group of non-smokers making them feel the way I used to feel. I feel I’m a winner; a sense of achievement engulfs me. I take notice of the price of all kinds and all brands of cigarettes and even the length of each. And now even get into arguments concerning the tastes of them. I have my own brand and I feel like I’m its big time brand ambassador. I crave for that last non-existent puff! They say the last puff is like the first kiss!
First steps of misunderstood achievement!
I have learnt the tricks n trades of the art of smoking. I can make rings, involve my nose in the process, drag the whole stick in two breathes and all other kinds of movie-inspired artwork. I realise the carbon that hugs onto my lungs but the realisation is just not enough. I am educated and I do read the statutory warning on the packs but then, I feel like a fool to believe it and I just focus my eyes on the white and beige stick.
First steps of deliberate ignorance!
It’s been a year now and a cigarette no more excites me the way it earlier did. Its just part of the daily action, no special attention paid. I lie on my bed and try to find an answer in the whirling and zipping smoke. The smoke irritates my eyes. I look down and I find butts of all kinds scattered all over the place. My eyes are irritated again, this time by the sight of the floor, a bit of hurt attached to it. They surely did make my room dirty but when I think of the lungs, I realise they must be dirtier, carbon studded and unhealthy.
First steps of intellectual realisation!
It’s a chilled breezy evening. I walk out on to the field to kick a bit of football. Tiredness was the only thing I could experience, the joy wasn’t there, neither was the healthy feeling of doing something good. I could feel my stamina falling like cycles in a cycle stand, just no end to it. I could hear my heart saying "Stop! Damn it!". . . I can’t take it anymore. I go by my heart, return to lay down on my bed, light up a stick and ease down on the fluffy bed. As I try thinking about the game, the pain of breathlessness wakes me up. I stand up in dismay. I feel someone stole away the oxygen from my room. I start panting like never before. I don’t have an answer, the smoke has betrayed me. The butts give me a sarcastic grin, the stick still burning with vengeance.
First steps of fearful disbelief!
I am looking down, in front of the doctor, who has just told me the state of my lungs. Bronchitis! I look up in utter shock. I feel like moving back in time. Back to that rainy afternoon, back to that coffee-shop, back to my friend’s room on that very Sunday. I wish to change what I did. But it’s beyond possibility. Only thing that comforts me is that I have realised it early, it isn’t that late. But the damage is irreparable, physical, mental, social, and financial.
First steps of thoughtful retreat!
It’s a new day and I am feeling fresh. My room is clean, there’s a fresh air blowing into my room. It feels the air just kissed my lungs and said" I had missed u". Suddenly the questions have vanished, my guilt has perished and my eyes have opened to the world of my own, beautiful and happy. I meet my friends and I feel "proud" to say I have quit! They try testing me but one night has just changed it all. I have got stronger by the heart, cleaner by the mind and I am blunt enough to just nod and say No! I am feeling stronger, healthier and happier. There’s this feel good factor that drives me through day and night. The smoke has become an enemy; the butts have become long distance scenery. Life’s simply beautiful. I wish to live longer.
To all my friends who smoke, try drawing a line on your wall and call it your lifeline. Try erasing it with every puff you take. You might just tear off the line in disgust or you might just vow to keep it constant. I wish your heart is strong enough to go for the latter. You may never realise how every drag actually drags you closer to death. Say goodbye to smoking and let’s breathe clean air for a change! Don’t wait for an asthma attack nor wait for your doctor to warn you nor wait for your girlfriend to request you. It’s your life. Live it longer, healthier and happier.
Why smoke when you can always breathe?