Through the purple haze

But I couldn8217;t care less8230; despite the fact that I barely managed to pass the SSC exams in 1990 with 45 per cent. Grades did not bother me; I wanted to be different. I joined National College in Bandra, and that8217;s where the trouble really began.

I got into bad8217; company, but then I thought I was moving with the hip8217; crowd. In fact, I was attracted towards anything which was forbidden, which included gang fights, late night parties, bunking, and evendrugs and sex.

Being the son of a rich father helped, I had to just throw around some money to get myself out of a problem in college. This worked in the beginning, and the Don8217;t mess with me!8217; message I was sending out made me feel invincible.

By my SYJC, I was bunking classes as regularly as I was attending rave parties, where grass, ecstasy and LSD floated around. I thought I was not really controlled by the drugs, and could kick the habit anytime. I was wrong.

Things came to a head in 1992, when one fine day the college decided to conduct a surprise inspection. They found three grammes of heroin on me. When I was quizzed about its source, I refused to spill the beans and the college registered a police case.

I still couldn8217;t care less. I was bailed out by my father, and put on an 18-month probation by the police. Thanks to my dad8217;s contacts, the cops paid special attention to my case and would regularly come to my house at my father8217;s behest to warn me not take drugs anymore.

But by then I wascompletely hooked. I would steal money from the house for my regular dose of grass. There were days when I would blow up Rs 5,000 in just one rave party. The first time I tried LSD which causes serious hallucinations, I nearly killed myself due to an overdose. I popped in three blotting papers of LSD instead of one! and then kept dancing for over five hours to trance music at the party 8212; while some other couples were having an orgy right there on the dance floor. And I swear I saw my shoes running away on their own at the rave party.

Some of my friends dropped me home that night. I had barely stepped inside, when I saw this gentleman shouting at the top of his voice at me. I was so high on LSD that I could not make head or tail of what this strange man was saying. He turned out to be my own dad8230; I could not recognise him that crazy night.

My family realised that the situation was beyond their control and took me to a doctor the next day. The doc immediately saw through why I was behaving strangely,and tied me to the bed. He sermoned me not to take drugs again for my own good. But my attitude still was, Let8217;s see what happens if I take cocaine, let8217;s see what happens if I disobey the cops8230;8217;

I was soon taking hard drugs like heroin; and lost interest in everything else 8211; girls, my personal appearance, my appetite. My poor parents naturally lost interest in my well-being. They even threw me out of the house on one or two ocassions. I would beg in a sophisticated manner on the streets to get my daily fix.

After seven years of constant drug abuse, I started having blackouts: I would suddenly collapse and faint on the road, and recover only after a few hours. Money was hard to come now, and all my friends had deserted me.

I was alone and stranded, with just two choices: heroin or death. Little did my foggy brain realised that both were one and the same!

By 1998, the doctors told me that I had suffered a brain damage, and it would worsen if I did not stop doing drugs. That8217;s when I decided to seekhelp at Dr Yusuf Merchant8217;s rehabilitation centre at Kalyan.

This nine-month rehab programme comprises three stages: Motivation, Detoxification and Rehabilitation. Basically it is very difficult to kick drugs on your own as the cold turkey state is as painful as extreme starvation, or thirst.

Though I have suffered brain damage, and have failed to complete my education, I still have no regrets in life. I will now join my father8217;s business and hope to start life afresh.

As told to Vijay Singh