The last words that I could recall are, “Nazi’s, animation, national geographic, Jio 4G…’”. From here it all started and ended. A 15 minutes drive was enough for Iqbal to cover the whole universe, into the “greening out” state, from where he was finding it difficult to return.
“Iqbal, let’s fire the crackers today”, Aryan sent a watsapp message to Iqbal.
For those who are thinking crackers to be of deepawali, no, it was marijuana.
Out of excitement, Iqbal quickly finished his work in the office and reached home by 18:30.
“Get ready with all the packings, I am just coming in 5 minutes”, Iqbal called his wife as he was about to reach his home.
“No I won’t have tea either”, requested Iqbal to his better half.
In a quick succession of 25 minutes, he left her to Aryan’s residence.
“Aryan”, as the name, so is the person.
He might be known to you all. Remember, Dirty 7 (now poshthumousblogs)? Yes, he is one of them.
It was in July-August 2004, when Aryan and Iqbal met in I.G.M.C. But the real side, the “hypnotic version” of Aryan came out yesterday. His every single word, his resonant voice was taking Iqbal high, way high, out of this world.
“Kahan ho bhai (Where are you brother?)”, Iqbal called Aryan anxiously, as he was waiting from half-an-hour.
Suddenly a headlight flashed that distracted Iqbal, who was patiently listening to his all time favourite coke studio songs.
“Yo brother! Here’s is a gift. Just to save time, I made it in the office”, Aryan jumped out of his car and took out the long grey colored fully loaded stick.
Everything was set. Iqbal looked at his watch. It was 20:30. Two cars parked in the dark, away from the artificial city life. Moon shedding the milky light on both of them. Not even a single person around.
Unaware of the upcoming situation, Aryan lit up the marijuana loaded stick.
There was a pin-drop silence. No exchange of words could be heard.
Iqbal was gasping for air but Aryan was unaware of this and his full concentration was on moon.
The moon was as-usual beautiful. Iqbal might be missing his camera but who cares. Naked eye vision is the best.
“You know Iqbal, the moon will be closest to earth on 14th November and its beauty will be the best to be admired”, said Aryan.
This was it. Iqbal, who was till now looking straight and trying to concentrate, lifted up his head to look at the white ball.
His whole body was flying. He didn’t felt any gravity. Slowly and steadily, Iqbal was escaping the earth, heading towards the moon.
“Iqbal, Iqbal…come have some water”, Aryan, who was also high, shouted at Iqbal.
The first symptom, ataxia, embraced both of them. The few meters distance looked miles apart to them.
Iqbal jumped into Aryan’s sedan and after struggling with water, he closed his eyes. Closing the eyes was the worst thing that Iqbal did.
Iqbal felt as if he has been hypnotized by Aryan. Every single word of Aryan was taking Iqbal way out of this world. He felt complete dissociation.
The THC (tetrahydrocannabinol) of marijuana had badly hit the CB1 receptors of Iqbal and Aryan.
Iqbal’s sensory, time perception, concentration and co-ordination were at stake now.
“O Shit! He is greening out”, feared Aryan, “Is he paralyzed or is it stroke???”
Iqbal had the least energy left, he was floating in space. His body was responding to Aryan’s words but his soul was reaching towards the moon.
Iqbal felt severe paranoia, his mouth started to dry, eyes were blood shot. He was gasping for air and sweating as if its 40 degree outside (actually it was chilly winter of november). He was completely disoriented now.
THC did its job. Iqbal was lost into a state of depersonalization and derealization.
“Let me take this idiot to a ride”, thought Aryan.
Iqbal was in no state to answer the endless questions asked by Aryan. His body was there but his soul was somewhere reaching towards the moon. He was alive inside the body that had lost all the functioning activities.
“Where I am heading to? Let us go out, have a walk”, Iqbal asked Aryan. He was now coming back to his senses.
“Äryan, I will drive. You just analyze my behaviour”, said Iqbal, as both jumped into Iqbal’s car, that was lying unlocked from the past 1 hour.
“Bhai, you are dressed up as a F1 racer”, Aryan said, sitting in somewhat relaxed position but Iqbal’s mind was still high.
Iqbal was encircling the moon. He could feel the craters, could see all the planets.
Suddenly his phone vibrated and with a shake of his head he applied the brakes right besides Aryan’s sedan.
“Nazi’s, animation, national geographic, Jio 4G….”, said Aryan.
This was it, a phone call and these words brought back Iqbal from a near death experience. After this they both went back to Aryan’s residence, had dinner.
Their better halves did notice something phishy going around (as was obvious from their behaviour) but they would have never thought that their “sincere” husbands just landed back encircling the moon.
Posthumous Blogs 