A Brief Meditation on Smoking
by Ajay Nair
I will start smoking again before I am done.
The first time I smoked was when I was twenty, in the back of a friend's car. I was drunk and my vision had acquired that liquid quality which makes drinking wonderful and dangerous. My friend passed me a lit cigarette and I sucked in the burning nicotine without inhaling. Nothing happened. My friend told me how it's really done — how to breathe the poison in all the way to my lungs. Nothing happened for a while. And then, sweet violence rocked my head. It was the most beautiful thing.
There are two kinds of stupid in the world of smoking. The first kind includes anyone who smokes — knowing well that it is likely to cause terrible pain at a later point in their lives. The second kind includes the people who tell the first kind that smoking is injurious to health. That is the point.
I quit smoking, as I am sure anyone who has ever given it up, for someone else. It is that sacrifice that wins you points even though it never sits comfortably inside you. That someone else is here today, sitting in the back row. I am surprised she had the inclination to dab make-up on. It is indecent and inappropriate, just like those women who paint their lips a bright red at funerals. There is enough blood already, isn't there?
What I loved about smoking was the mechanics of it. The soft swish as the stick is pulled out of the carton; the scratchy friction of the match against the side of the match-box; the birth of the intimate flame, all slinky and seductive; the small window of opportunity before the flame's abducted by a passing breeze or falling rain or my clumsiness; the first pull which is at once familiar and exotic; the dynamics of how to hold the cigarette — between what fingers for what occasion; the correct interval between pulls; the ghost of the burned out part that hangs as ash at the tip before you flick it off; the last few drags as the paper flirts with the edge of the filter; the chalky grinding of the remnant on the ground with the sole of a tired foot. I loved smoking. I love smoking. Which is why I will start smoking again.
The judge is back now. His lips have a dark flaky texture — he is a smoker. He looks at me as he pronounces the sentence. I can only see those lips moving. Evidently, the price of a man's life is fourteen years of my freedom. I wonder how that math works. I bet there's advanced calculus involved.
I hope to god that I find a steady supply of cigarettes in prison. I have found them to be the best markers of time. By the time I am released, I want my lungs to be shining with fire so that when they take them out at my death, they are glowing like Christmas ornaments.
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Author's Note
So much of this is true, so much not.
Other stories by Ajay Nair
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too painful to read twice - ms flawnt and i are on day 16 of quitting.
My apologies, Ff! Thanks for the read / fave.
Enjoyed reading this, Ajay.
"The soft swish as the stick is pulled out of the carton; the scratchy friction of the match against the side of the match-box;". I'm on year 31 of quitting and this still gets my attention.
I like the narrator here. I'd like to see more of him.
I loved this meditation on smoking. I never smoked beyond the occasional cigarette while drinking, but having spent time with smokers, and having those moments while younger when it’s late at night, you’ve been drinking and carrying on, you end up ruminating with your likewise inebriated friends about aspects of smoking. Of course, when you’re younger, the one thing you don’t ruminate on is how it’ll destroy your health.
Anyway, this was well done. I loved the paragraph on the mechanics.
Thanks for the read, Sam.
Carol, thanks for reading. Appreciate the point about the sketchy narrator.
Christian, thanks for the read and the feedback. Yeah, smoking is much more suited to when you are younger, I guess.
The first cigarette I had was six.
Nicely done! Love this ending.
You the man, Matt.
Thanks SHG.
(meaning six in a row, not that *I* was six...)
I agree with Carol. I quit some years ago, but I read this with great interest. Not to worry about getting a supply of cigs in prison; you can get anything there if you have some money. (So I've heard.)
(Matt, still, you the man)
Jack, thanks for the read. I don't intend to test what you have heard for sure.
love how you get so completely into the head of yr characters, Ajay. Excellent meditation.
Thanks Julie. I must admit this was somewhat easier. I loved smoking.
loved 'sweet violence rocked my head'. that sums it up, that rush. did you know nicotine is the most potent addictive substance known to humanity (i learned this in pharmacy school). anyhow, fab piece, though too close to home, all the people i love have died or will from the damn cigs. peace...
Thanks for the read Linda. I didn't know it was the most potent of them all, but yeah, knew it was up there. It is an interesting abd an ultimately tragic phenomenon of coure, the addiction.
Good, fun story. However, I smoked my first cig when I had several beers. It took awhile, but when the nicotine finally hit, I vomited all over the place. Nicotine and a lot of beer: not a good match-up, at least for me. Needless to say, I don't smoke anymore and only drink moderately.
Thanks Matthew. And good decision!
started at 14. Blew smoke out of bathromm windows. Till someone finked out on me.
Don't wait for the pain. It gets easy after 1 month. I promise. I know
Ah well, gave it up too. Such a pity. Thanks for the read Estelle.
Really liked this one, man. Well done. Although you just ruined the smoke I was going to have;)
Thanks Michael. Sorry about the ruined smoke though.
I like the self-possessed beauty of this piece and how it lets itself get a little wild at the end, like a fire flaring up just before it dies. Very nice.
Thanks Chalon, for reading and commenting.
This is great. This sentence is wicked, wicked good & I so wish I'd written it: 'By the time I am released, I want my lungs to be shining with fire so that when they take them out at my death, they are glowing like Christmas ornaments.' I just finished writing a set of 3 pices on smoking & I'm now going to light up, lean back & get a lung-full.
Thanks Penny, appreciate the read. I quit a while back and this is all I have now - words vs. actual smoking. A pity, isn't it?
I enjoyed reading this. My fav part was the ending 'By the time I am released, I want my lungs to be shining with fire so that when they take them out at my death, they are glowing like Christmas ornaments.' Love those lines.