“That’s my cousin!” whispered my friend, as we looked at a bedraggled, shabby, girl, hair matted and unkempt, looking at us with haggard eyes, in one of the bye-lanes in the city. He went up to her, but when he offered her a meal instead of money, which was certainly for her next dose of drugs, she ran away.
“Hers is a sad story!” my friend whispered and told me a tale of unrequited love which made her seek recourse in drugs.
I do understand such tales, but when I hear about actors and now a son of one falling prey to the tentacles of this evil habit, I stop and ponder: Most of these good men and women, have enough money and more, enough fame and more, then obviously it is not frustration or a broken heart that leads then to this addiction.
I am certainly not going to generalize, but most often it is boredom!
The boredom of not having to work anymore for fame or success, the boredom, when they find the fame and money they so wished for, doesn’t give them the satisfaction they thought it would give. That the thought of fancy cars, bungalows and beautiful women drove him or her relentlessly to work hard to achieve recognition, and those cars, women and houses arrived, they came with a huge vacuum that screamed, “I am still not satisfied!”
The craving mind was dissatisfied, and the only way the mind could attain satisfaction was in lulling it into a false sense of a temporary utopia; drugs! And in those injected or inhaled moments, he was able drift into artificially, stimulated excitement.
And this doesn’t limit itself to only actors or their sons or only to the intake of drugs. I watch and see politicians who incensed with unlimited power, assault and rape, as if it is their birthright. As when they who are sometimes caught are led off to jail, the world wonders was there a need for such dastardly crime? Wasn’t being a minister enough?
No it wasn’t! After reaching there his dissatisfied self, wanted more.
What then, the solution?
To be able to work for success with a peaceful self, also to realize that satisfaction does not come from outside pleasures but inside joy!
The one who got our freedom from the British; Gandhiji, realized this, and worked to master himself, before trying to reach his near impossible goal.
Poor twenty-three year old boy, he didn’t know what hit him, but if he comes out of this mess, understanding that all his father’s name and wealth are useless, and that a simple learning of finding peace, joy and satisfaction within will work, then his days inside won’t be in vain, and he will come out with a new message, not written on needle pricked arm, but in a heart that has found peace within himself..!

(bobsbanter@gmail.com)