The good, the bad and the ugly

2:00 am: Passing through Clifton:

I love these streets. Wide and wonderfully lit.
And there on the sidewalks, I saw people settling down into corners, getting ready to sleep. Torn worn-out clothes, unshaven faces, just a thin chaddar to cover themselves with through the night. These were the bad lot.

I looked at them and pitied their life. They chose to live on these streets, sleep on the ground, go hungry for days and all that for what? The momentary high that a needle prick provided? What a waste of life.

(Im told I suffer from a mental condition where I think too much.) Then I thought about the rest of us who had gotten it right. It being the concept, the logic, the gist of life. Were we any happier? Like rats in a maze, who keep running into the same corner again and again, or like the mouse running in the same spot in the small rudder who is made to believe what he is doing is essential for existence. Werent our lives much more empty and meaningless at times, with not even the solace of the same needle prick to look forward to? At least their high, when it came, was complete and perfect. Could we say the same for our elation?

Someone very close to me was (is?) into drugs… we were talking about it and I implied that its not something one should get involved in, yeh achey logo key karney key kaam nahi hain. He looked at me and said, does it change who I am? Does it make me a bad person then?

To date I havent been able to answer that.

Had this person not been an important part of my life, I wouldve promptly replied, yes it makes you a bad person. There’s a black area and a white area, the right and the wrong and you just crossed the line between it. So yes, that makes you a very very bad person. However knowing this person made all the difference. I dont think he is a bad person, havent ever thought that for a single minute. I guess feelings do that, make you biased to the faults of the people you love. To someone else he might be a junkie, an addict, a good-for-nothing but to me he is a friend who messed up somewhere along the way. A friend who's a vegetable under external influences most of the time, is nevertheless way better than someone who cant hold anything except his sick mind and perverted ways of thinking responsible for his actions.

This discussion made me wonder some more. So I was a good girl for not going near drugs. He did drugs but I didnt think him the true bad.

Question was… if a junkie didnt make it into this clique, who did?
If drugs dont make a person bad, then what does?