Do I have everything on me? The usual morning ritual was coming to a close, it was time to go to work…laptop, cell phone, smokes, rolling paper, hashish, glasses…am I missing anything? Oh yeah, keys to the car, not going far without them..

The car rolled lazily onto the main road, reach for the cd player, random play list…Along comes Bob Dylan…’Hey Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me’ A speedy motorist comes onto the main from nowhere in particular. I swerve, one of many on the way to work. The joint is lit up. Always a good idea to roll the mandatory morning jays before passing out at night. Saves time I tell you.

Haven’t reached far yet. The sun is blaring down, its only going to get worse and worse, till at least 4 pm. Hit the mall, traffic worsens. Everything’s fair game right about now: Cars, motor cycles, cycles, pedestrians all own the road. Their fathers paid in blood for it, and there is no way that they are going to give up their right of passage. No worries. my daddy built a patch too…this one on the sidewalk. So on I went…from the sidewalk, cutting my way across a swarm of transport devices. Ahh, finally the canal. The cherry is burning properly now. The first few drags set the record straight. Music penetrates the brain. Screw work. Smoke this. Work is unavoidable.

An ice cream man is standing by the side, arguing with another motorcyclist…not over the price of a lolly that’s for sure. Ahh, lollies. The good old days. Scurrying after school to the ice cream vendor with 3 rupees in change, and that great never changing taste of hico’s orange lolly. I always suspected it had a strange salty tinge to it. The new underpass is fast approaching. Everyone’s going at their own pace, on their own paths. Gotta make my own too, if I want to get anywhere. As I slowly move the car towards the left, I’m confronted with people who have the exact opposite in mind…getting to the right to go underneath. I swerve, they swerve, I honk, they glare, I show them the finger…downshift, another swerve, I’m outta here! Boy, thank God the schools aint open, warna scene bad. Full bad.

The car’s hot boxed now. if it seems cloudy to me from where I am, it must be the same from outside, but who cares…the jayzee continues, another long drag, ash falls onto my hand, no wincing, no subconscious reaction, we’re used to this acha…a very deliberate movement takes care of the ash, and another toke is on the way. As the roundabout approaches, I’m attacked from all sides yet again. It seems the traveling public wants to stop me in my tracks, bring me and my transport to a screeching halt. Only then, can they go along their way. Thank God for this pacifying material God gave us, otherwise we would have problems right about now.

Cell phone rings…hey, sup? You coming in? Yeah, in a bit, what’s up? Nothing, He was asking? Who? Him yaar. Oh Operation cover up please, I’m nearly there, okay, peace! Its good to have understanding people around. Makes life easier. Reach the empire center crossing. This is going to take time. Time for a music change, pop in one another cd randomly, along comes Bob Geldof, Oh, that’s Sir Bob Geldof to you. Along he comes with the boomtown rats, telling us that they don’t like Mondays.

Finally the line starts to move, I honk, and don’t stop. Maybe this will make them go faster. It works, everyone starts honking from the back, heads turn, a little opening I see, and exploit immediately…from the sidewalk of course, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a bunch of people shouting out obscenities. No more damn lights, now its easy going. Finish this first yo, work ain’t going anywhere. I sink a little lower into the driving seat, the jayzee has had its desired effect, this will take me till lunch I think, glad of the fact that I brought this stuff with me when I moved back. Lahore’s smoking junk otherwise.

The last turn before work appears. Chris Rea’s road to hell comes to mind…a free for all is going on here. Everyone’s on the road, everyone owns the road, and everyone owns you…trucks, loaders, women, children, cyclists, donkey carts are coming from all sides, without a care in the world.

You look after yourself, I’ll look after myself. That’s the motto. Reach the parking area, the joint’s finished, Gotta remember to use the eye drops…don’t want them going red like they did last time during the meeting…Hey stoner! Huh…me stoner? Look at your eyes dawg…they’re red? No. then? They’re BLOOD SHOT. Shady. That’s what I say. Park the car, reach for the Curine. Two drops in each eye always do the trick. Its time to step inside the corporate circus.