I have always held on to the indisputable truism about the horrors of smoking. Not that it sees me disgusted, yet it always is a pressing concern to see a loved one blow it all up in smoke. The ash gray trails have, of course, never sniffed into me the desire to hold the white paper roll between my lips. Nonetheless, as the years roll by with an uninterrupted ease, and my biological clock ticks on with an untiring dynamism, my big eyed self curiously desires to take a peek under the bonnet of experiences that I've never burrowed into. A passion for casual, harmless fun arises at moments when I feel strongly that this is the only life I’m going to have, so why not try the untested. There’s a tingling delight involved in sampling something that suddenly impresses.
I live in the Middle East, a region popular among smokers for its hubbly bubbly, something that in native terminology is 'shisha'. It is an oriental tobacco pipe that has a long, flexible tube connected to a container. The flavoured tobacco inside, is smoked using charcoal and the smoke is cooled by passing through water. The Mid Easterners spend hours on gurgling through the pipe and blowing out thick gray smoke. Oral fixations and armchair psychology aside, it is all about flavours- cocoa, apple, vanilla, roasted, aged, creamy, cedar, nutty, pine, fruity and so much more. Hookah smokers can wax eloquent about moods and the corresponding flavours.
All the while, the uncanny desire in me to experience novelty and sometimes the oddball, has been growing. So the other day as I went to dine at a luxurious Downtown Dubai restaurant with some close friends, one of them asked for hubbly bubbly to be laid out. The order barely invited my attentiveness, and I continued to admire the towering Burj Khalifa as it stood majestically before us, spectacularly lit up in all its glory. A towering representation of human achievement, it ignites in me the passion to scale unknown heights, each time I see it up close.
This was to be my first brush with hubbly bubbly or the hookah. Within minutes, the unmistakable aroma of scented tobacco wafted towards us, and I turned to take a look at the glass object that held charcoal, water and flavoured tobacco, in a professedly delectable unison. My friend promptly pulled it closer to herself, held the pipe and with an apparent dexterity, fixed a changeable nozzle to its mouth and took a long suck at it. The liquid inside gurgled audibly enough to invite my attention that had by now travelled back to the Burj. I watched with an utter curiosity as she continued to suck, bubble and finally let out a long trail of thick smoke through her nose. I felt a sudden urge to replicate the process, especially of letting smoke out through the nose. As I looked on with dropped jaws, she glanced at me and perhaps sensing my visible curiosity, gently pushed the object towards me, asking me to try it out. I, a distinct, non smoker, instinctively refused, but in a flash of a moment, an inner voice protested to follow. Who knew if the moment would come up ever again ! The remarkable spirit and desire for fun that we carry within ourselves gave me the authority to go ahead. With an extemporaneous fillip, I pulled the hookah closer, changed the used nozzle, and took a whack at it. I sucked hard, taking care not to let the smoke charge into my lungs. However, to a nonsmoker the horrific dismay of holding smoke in the mouth, and keeping it from entering the unacquainted trachea and lungs was by far greater than the thrill of holding the pipe in hand. I found myself blown with consternation! However, assuring glances from friends around helped me regain composure and prompted me to take it sportingly. Consequently, with an assuming, deliberate grandeur, I released the captive smoke through the nose. It was certainly a staggered first shot but getting it right was both a joy and a challenge.
I quite mastered the skill in successive takes and made greater efforts to blow the water into the device as loud as I could do. Like a promising learner, I mastered the craft in just a few takes. It began to fascinate me, and soon I felt totally swamped in the rip roaring enchantment of the moment. What an experience it was.
The cameras went into instant action and my friends roared “more, more” in order to freeze the moment on their devices with finesse. A euphoric me gracefully obliged. The inviting aroma of apple infusion filled the air although I was much flabbergast to get a smack of it, but in the given moment, fantasy soared high. Each puff that I blew, was an attempt to push the smoke higher, probably higher than the Burj, if I could have managed that. I felt thoroughly uplifted in the bubble of the juncture.
The vile, disgusting habit that has undeniable health risk did not bother me a tad bit. All that I sensed was, a bizarre sense of ecstasy in having tried something that I had never fancied . Dinner arrived, and I ate but was distracted to relish the food. Being done with the final course we got up to roll back home. My mind was aglow with the buoyancy of an experience that would perhaps never repeat.
Being a non smoker, I probably wouldn't be tempted to do the hubbly bubbly again. The vanilla or the chocolate will never lure me. Agree that they are great flavours to go by, but would I want to blow it up all in smoke? However, the reek of burnt tobacco that remains notoriously on carpets, drapes, dermis and hair, has clung on to my clothes. Weeks later as I write this piece, I have not yet refreshed the outfit I had worn that evening. I guess I shall embrace the inglorious odour as a memento, and long after all of that fizzles out, I shall continue to savour enduring memories of a piquant evening spent with spirited friends ! After all, I can now rightly endorse, ‘A bipolar world with the hookah and Turkish coffee versus hamburgers and Coca Cola’.
