My friend a multi-millionaire whose spiraling career read like a rags to
riches story spat red paan into a corner of his plush sitting room. He
looked at me angrily. “It’s ridiculous that the government is stopping
people from spitting and smoking in public places! Spitting and smoking
are fundamental rights right?
My father smoked wherever he wanted, my grandfather was known to be the
best spitter in his village; even the British were afraid of him because
he had a reputation of spitting them in the eye! How can they ban a
national pastime?” I watched as he opened a packet of cigarettes and lit
one. He pulled onto the tobacco then started wheezing, then coughing
loudly. I got up to help him but he waved me off, “Nothing like a good
coughing spree to ease the lungs!” he said looking at me with blood shot
eyes!”
“There’s a fine of five hundred rupees if you are caught outside!” I
said. “So I have told my bank to send me only five hundred rupee bundles
so I can smoke, spit and pay at the same time,” he said as he spat into
the corner of his sitting room. “They might put you in jail!” “I am sure
smoking is permitted in jail!” “It’s a public place!” I reminded him.
“Then I will have to indulge myself using my own resources!” he said, “I
didn’t spend my life making money to be told at the end of it I couldn’t
do what I wanted, have a look at these plans my architect has drawn up.”
“Why it’s a mini township!” I exclaimed, “It’s even got an auditorium!”
“Where smoking and spitting are allowed!”
“Restaurants and a five star hotel!” “Where cigarettes will be
distributed free!” “An amusement centre!”
“Where we will hold spitting contests!” “Even a private beach!” “With
cigarette vending machines mounted on lifeboats, ‘Smoke while you
Float!” he said with a grin.“When are you starting the project?” I
asked. “When I come out of hospital!” said my millionaire friend as he
went into another bout of coughing.
“Hospital? What for?” “Cancer! Just a bit of bother. It’s got my throat
and lungs, but once I’m out no government will fine me, no jail hold me
for doing what I most love doing, it’s my fundamental right! My honest
to goodness privilege, my…”
“Doctor!” I shouted as he collapsed on the floor in a fit of coughing,
then watched as paramedics carried him out and his blueprint for the
‘smoking and spitting township’ rolled to the corner of his paan marked
room.
