By Devraj Singh Kalsi
Spending three decades of adult life without consuming a single drop of alcohol should awaken the introspection. What could possibly be wrong with me? I have been surrounded by friends and teachers who drank and danced together. I have enjoyed their spirited company, but I have never been tempted, never felt inclined to sip what made them tipsy. I have been dumped for not providing unconditional love, but I did not pour wine on my wounded heart for emotional relief. Over the years, I have worked well with seniors and juniors who relished whisky, rum, and beer though I never raised a toast or said cheers. Perhaps the underlying fear that I would end up revealing all my dark secrets in an inebriated state puts brakes on my urge to hit the bottle!
A dry creative life appears inevitable in such a pitiable situation and this worry mounts pressure on me. The haunting fear of failure in artistic pursuits seems likely to push me to the edge of addiction where I am left stranded with no other option. However, I find encouragement from liquor-loving authors crafting flowing prose as they credit this strength to their weakness. Thanking the altered state of mind that generates wild, imaginative ideas under the influence of alcohol. That becomes the blissful reality of their fiction. I reserve my right to try this option if natural stimulants fail to deliver effective results.
We are warned not to hold the steering wheel of a car in a drunken state, forget gliding a pen on paper but here the wine-loving authors draw a comparison to study the difference in their writing output. The sample produced after consuming alcohol reads better than the other writing sample produced when they were sober. The takeaway is that such writing automatically tends to be shaky whereas what is produced after gulping liquor stands strong and holds the reader’s fleeting attention. Retention of such a fine balance of readability and creativity is worth appreciating in the literary circles where intoxicating prose garners critical praise. Till now, I had only known writers and poets drinking liquor because of commercial failure or romantic letdowns. Changing times brew new realities as the creativity booster impact of alcohol has now been verbally and vocally established without conducting any clinical findings.
Forget the class of art-loving people who cheer up with three cheers to everything that gives a high in this dystopian world, carrying them on wobbly legs to a utopian world from where they do not wish to return anytime soon. Discovering alcohol addiction in a devout self-styled ‘saint’ who preaches the combined therapy of spiritual wisdom and divine living to her growing cult of followers was an eye-opener of sorts for me. Posting pictures of her pouring whisky in a glass and sipping it with her married daughter delivered awareness about the duality present in her character. Her followers had never seen her in this avatar. So, any attempt to bring this reality to their knowledge would be dismissed as a malicious move engineered by circulating her doctored image. While to those who are educated and liberal, she would emerge as a strong-willed lady who has broken the gender barrier and loves to celebrate intoxicating life.
In fact, her alcohol-friendly nature is likely to be read as a bold, receptive move to break free of everything that holds them back in multiple guises. She would come across as a transparent source of inspiration to the womenfolk who should give company to their spouse so that he does not wander into local bars or get into fights for his neat peg, or falls into open manholes or wades through overflowing high drains, creating a bad impression for the entire family and causing heartburn for those who feel ashamed that the householder comes home drunk. As a dutiful wife, she would ensure that he gets the company of his soul mate and drinks along with her instead of seeking exploitative friends and female colleagues to drink with and waste hard-earned money. A dignified step of this kind from a pious guide goes a long way to reforming the husband who gradually tones down his addiction and turns it occasional at home.
Performing this noble task as a wife is no mean achievement as she has partnered with her alcoholic husband to make him give up this habit. While neither of them kicks this habit, she finds it a source of forgetting the sorrow of widowhood as she drinks to mourn losing him forever now. She finds a group of kitty party friends to continue the habit of drinking and trying out new wines to keep her skin glowing.
When I told this to her daughter who was once slightly fond of me, she said she was aware of it since her college days, and it was her family tradition to drink liquor without gender discrimination. She called it a sign of progressive outlook and cited examples to differentiate between addiction and casual drinking, to position themselves as drinkers, not drunkards, calling it my narrow thinking to blend them all without any pride. She said her spiritually awakened mother was a sober drinker of quality wines, and she never entered into any brawl with neighbours or guests, never created mischief or spoke ill against them. Such a robust attempt to defend her mother’s drinking habit gave me a real high and I wished I could encourage some women of my household to seek inspiration.
My father and my slew of uncles were classified as occasional, seasonal, festival drinkers more active during the winters or weddings. I had the privilege of holding their fancy bottles in my hand during my childhood, just like trophies won in tournaments. I could rattle off the names of popular brands of whisky and create a flutter in my circle of friends who envied my vast knowledge and predicted I would grow up to be a heavy drinker. Their prediction remained unrealised.
My distaste for alcohol stems from close observation of people who ruined their promising careers after hitting the bottle and not all of them were in the creativity business. The loss of their potential contribution made me feel the world would have been richer if they had stayed away from alcohol.
What usually begins as a flirtation with beer because of low alcohol content and more froth, suddenly graduates one to more toxic stuff that causes organ damage though many alcoholic folks also guzzle black coffee to limit liver damage. Whether they are successful in reversing it or not is inconclusive, but they have a sense of satisfaction that they made genuine efforts to improve their overall health. I still remember one middle-aged uncle who came home drunk to attend the funeral ceremony of my father. Even today I find his liver rallying behind him without turning fatty, supporting him well without complaints or transplant needs though he is almost ninety now and a chronic drinker who has not cut it down to maintain organ health.
Much younger cousins have kept alive the family tradition by making alcohol an integral part of their lives. They have made it a mission to take the legacy forward and become chronic drinkers who drink gallons. The entire town knows about their drinking parties and many family friends read this as a sign of destruction. But the fact that they are prospering at a faster rate than many of us should end all speculation regarding decay and doom. Not drinking liquor seems to imply in this case that the person has not grown up as a well-balanced professional. One who cannot hold himself after a few pegs does not hold any promise, so this lucrative trade makes me seriously ponder over the scope of becoming a wine merchant myself – or setting up a distillery unit after my romance with distilled words fails to win hearts.
I was recently introduced to a successful entrepreneur from the local belt who has tasted success in such a start-up. He won the respect of a community that refuses to acknowledge creativity as a respectable pursuit. However, it shows love to the ‘respectable’ businessman with shady contacts that deserve to be exposed instead of getting lauded in the community that looks desperate to seek his company. They love to take photographs with him and post them in social media. The religious gatherings are incomplete without his presence and he has to be present to begin any auspicious program, as if he is the lucky fellow and God’s beloved child who can do a great job for the entire community while the truth is that he is poisoning the entire populace. Yet, he wins claps instead of slaps from holy men and politicians offering support and protection.
People rise up from their seats when this wine merchant enters the room. I was lucky (not sure) to be introduced to him and he sought to know what I did for a living. When I said I was a writer, he lost interest in me. Considered useless, I was pushed aside and never smiled at again. My presence, he pretended, was as valuable as my absence. The wine-seller was calling the shots. Even the priest genuflected before his materialistic prowess, showing his readiness to cancel appointments or reschedule them just to ensure he was given top priority — another stark reminder that VIP culture remains dominant in religious spots.
So I decided to join the bandwagon. On a barren parcel of land in a faraway area outside the city, I decided to set up a distillery. This has won hearts. The foundation stone laying ceremony is yet to be performed but the entire area is abuzz with excitement that a new distillery is coming up here. The populace that enjoys booze will come from the nearby areas will come to find out more about the plans of completing this unit and how soon the new liquor will be available in the market. Thay are curious to know if it’s going to be local or foreign liquor. With so much of information and misinformation flying around like dust, the distillery has garnered attention. There are congratulations flowing in – something I did not get in any other profession. They have blessed me to be successful as I make the community proud of doing a great service. Something I never received in my earlier attempts to continue doing a creative job. My exit from it is now certain as I am planning to focus on the new business venture launched in partnership.
If I had been a failure in creative work, I would have hit the bottle. So, I must ensure my safety and not drink my own distillery products to heal my agonies and forget my failures. A failed artist seeking refuge in alcohol is a nightmarish idea for me, so it is better to taste material success by selling alcohol and build a fortune instead of wasting time on words and sentences that do not seem to connect with the masses.
I have to benefit from the wine trade, and I am ready to sacrifice my dreams just to make this a profitable business. After that, if I find the time and energy to write, I would consider indulging. Otherwise, I’ll remain focused on making liquor my flagship business. I am sure more powerful heads will notice the change and give acceptance and blessings to my new business venture. My spirit will be charged in the spirits business as I will become the most admired and deified person because I would generate employment and provide fullness to the parched souls even if it devastates the health and future of many households.
Devraj Singh Kalsi works as a senior copywriter in Kolkata. His short stories and essays have been published in Deccan Herald, Tehelka, Kitaab, Earthen Lamp Journal, Assam Tribune, and The Statesman. Pal Motors is his first novel.
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