Have you ever experienced a weekend, where you’re all set to go out, but you reach the place late and now they’ve got no seats inside? There’s either the bar, where you’ll have lonely men and drunken teens for company – or in some places, the smoking section. For most non-smokers it’s the chamber of no good. You’ll find in here the smell of stale cigarettes, humidity operating in full swing, obnoxious rebels on the fringes of society; it’s just too much for a relaxed night out. But, it’s either that or the door, so you sigh with resignation, you accept your fate, you hope a table clears out and luck favours in. While you’re busy trying not to die from passive smoking (they say it’s more dangerous!) you’re missing out on human interaction at its finest. The smoking area is a club within a club, waiting for the drama to unfold, the one-night-friendships to be made and the almost relationships to develop. Here, the cigarette becomes more than just a means to blow off steam, it becomes a way to break the ice. You might argue that there are better ways to mingle and that I really shouldn’t romanticise a stick of twigs and tobacco. But if there’s one thing you cannot deny it’s how, as Indians, we’ve grown up awkward and in some cases socially inept. If alcohol gives you liquid luck, good for you. For some, a pack of cigarettes is not only cheaper, but also allows one to approach another in full sobriety, so they can remember that awkward memory for the rest of their lives. The things you’ll find around you, if you ignore that slight stinging in your eyes and look through the smoke are pretty interesting. Like that girl across the room with the long hair and the longer legs. She’s definitely checking you out and giggling to her friends as they figure out how to get her to your side of the room to borrow a light. Imagine her mild embarrassment when you unknowingly check her out and then say “sorry I don’t smoke”, and how much more awkward it gets when the pot bellied man watching you two offers her a light instead. That’s the thing about this room, no matter who you are, you belong to the same community there. You respect the laws of the land. No bumming the last cigarette, no blowing smoke in each other’s face, no stubbing anyone’s armpits, helping people get their drinks across the room, taking turns with that limited seating, sharing lighters. And of course, all of this, while striking up conversation. Sure we travel in buses with strangers, cross the road, stand in line with strangers – yet only in a smoking room there’s room for conversation. You’ll see girls looking out for girls, bosses loosening up their ties and opening up about their lives. While the smoke intensifies as the night progresses, so do the conversations! People go from “can I borrow a light” or “yuck is that clove?” To “of course you’re in advertising! so am I!” quicker than a Ferrari goes from 0 to 100. If I were a Marlboro ad, I’d probably be trying to convince you to change your views on the subject of smoking – but I’m not. You are right to want to run away from that space, get a spot in the AC inside, and spend the whole night wishing you didn’t smell like a chimney, discussing all those uncles you lost because of their notorious smoking habits. You shake your head at the thought of youngsters picking up smoking to strike up small talk. Don’t be too quick to dismiss the way they chose to live their lives, cause if we’re all going to be neighbours in hell, they’ve learnt they can work it out together, just like a night in the smoking room.
No Good Here
Updated: Feb 12, 2021
Comments