With so many actors and actresses dragged to jail by the Narcotics Control Bureau, or for questioning, many hardcore fans and film addicts are beginning to come up with strange thoughts and theories.
My neighbor, an old lady, who loves each new film release and insists on attending each release, ‘first day, first show,’ and is otherwise glued to her TV screen, was furious, “Why the temper?” I asked as I saw her looking out of the window angrily.
“For wasted years!” she yelled glaring at me, “Do you know why I spent my whole life in front of the screen?”
“Because you love cinema!” I volunteered.
“No idiot, I love acting and always wanted to be a heroine. So I thought spending every living moment watching them, I would learn to act!”
“Good enough reason!” I assured her.
“How was I to know that all their acting, dancing, jesting, wisecracks, confidence was because they all smoked ‘doob’!”
“Doob?” I asked.
“That’s what they call marijuana, that give them a high, which was what helped them act! Not drama school or acting skills but…”
“Doob!” I said.
“And Instead of spending my whole life trying to study them, I could have just started on that same doob!” she cried trying to tear her greying hair.
I watched as a little boy came running, “Aunty, no loose cigarettes in the store, so I bought a full pack!”
“You going to start smoking?” I asked incredulously.
“Nah, smoking causes cancer!” she said, “I’ll just spend today, learning to empty the tobacco from these cigarettes and make my own doob! Tomorrow I’ll go to the studios, and ask for a role! I’m sure I’ll get a juicy one. Considering most actresses are either in jails or police stations!”
“Where will you get the what d’you call it?”
“Yes, where will you get it from?” I asked curiously.
“I thought you’d know!” said the grey haired old lady, “You journalists are also into that sort of thing aren’t you? I mean you guys write well because of the doob, right? Oh God, what a success I would have been if I’d known that everything in life could have been achieved with a drag of doob! So will you help me get the stuff? Remember I have twenty cigarettes to empty and roll into joints! Here’s my number!”
“You want me to WhatsApp you, where to get your doob?”
“WhatsApp!” shrieked the old lady, her greying hair shaking in spasms, “You want me in jail with Rhea or in the lock up with Deepika and Shraddha? Do you know they have no TVs in Jail? I’ll strangle you, you informer!”
I left before her next act..!
Robert Clements is a newspaper columnist and author. He blogs at www.bobsbanter.com and can be reached at email@example.com