Thank you for not smoking

I am amazed. Very amazed, in fact, with the way law gets twisted and stretched to fit the blubber of archaic moral policing in my country, barely concealing the obscene, and yet, covering up just right. OK, there were five commas in the last sentence. So what?

I spent the three weeks in Delhi fretting over the minute details of, and the general public opinion about, the brand new anti-smokers’ law. October 2nd meant carrying coffee in a snooty paper cup to the car and looking at the sorrow-crowd outside the purple-red cafe. The day spoke to my kind in whispers of a foreign language and the only word we could catch was ‘discrimination’.

Oh, I’m totally against curbing rights, even if they are of non-smokers forced to duel armours of nicotine rings which them smokers have around themselves in self-defence. Well, I still do not see why the addict needs to leave his drink mid-way and run down four floors for his fix by the roadside when the bar could’ve have a separate non-smoking floor if it weren’t for law. Will the law-churners protect the girl in the short-skirt stepping out at 2 am from the club to light up her Classic Milds? Maybe she shouldn’t try such ‘adventures’ when ‘the streets aren’t safe in the city’ (quoting Ms. Sheila Dikshit).

Whats a woman’s doing with a cigarette anyway? Aren’t we Indian women supposed to ‘maintain dignity’ and ‘values’ and simply indulge in some quality bitching and schemeing when we wanna have a little fun? Ooh, I can almost imagine Ekta Kapoor’s vamp in a saree (and slutty make-up) lighting up with a flashy smirk, while schemeing to take over her in-laws’ bank-balance right after making love to her chocolate-boy (and negative IQ’d) husband.

Anyways, coming back to the law which thinks roads aren’t public enough and private cars with windows rolled down are, I think I need a smoke break. Will see if I become poorer by 200 bucks in the process.