06/04/2006

 

Mainstream misery over dry spell

Few people are now found standing at Sunil Singh's paan and cigarette shop on the eastern corner of the Albert Ekka roundabout at 9 pm. Sheonath Singh's "bhooja" and snack shop nearby also bears a deserted look at this time. These shops used to attract queues of customers particularly after dusk and did brisk business till 11 pm or so, before April 1.

But, they along with other cigarette, paan and snacks outlets, began packing their wares after 9 pm in the absence of customers since April 1.

Reason: The liquor shop located between Sunil's paan, cigarette shop and Sheonath's "bhooja" shop downed its shutter along with city's other liquor outlets on April 1 in the wake of the tussle between the liquor barons and the state excise department.

The protracted spell of "dry days" has severely affected the life and trade on the Albert Ekka roundabout, which remains the heart of the city. The condition at Lalput roundabout, too, remains the same. There is an impressive paan and cigarette outlet across the Rajasthan Hotel, which caters to revellers enjoying the "nightlife". The grand liquor shop at the Lalpur roundabout feeds these revellers often dragging the nightlife beyond 11 pm. But its closure has robbed Lalpur of life and revellers' thrill in the evening hours.

In fact, the closure of wine shops for the last five days has changed life in the city. After 9 pm a virtual gloom descends on Sainik Bazaar on the Main Road, on Kanke Road, besides Lalpur and Albert Ekka roundabout, which used to come to life with revelry and merriment. These areas were full of quality liquor shop, bars and restaurants besides roadside eateries, snacks outlets and cigarette and "paan" shops.

Who does not know that liquor stimulates the demand of cigarettes, paan, pakauras, chops and chilly chicken? It's for the excise department to assess the loss of revenue to the state exchequer due to protracted "dry spell". But the absence of liquor and its consumers from the streets has threatened the survival of the roadside eateries and small-time shops.

Interestingly, the "dry spell" has led many in the city to re-assess their relationships. For instance, one of my office friends rues his naivete for not befriending the army officers whose help could definitely have "quenched" his thirst for the "elixir of life" that liquor is. The armymen get uninterrupted quota of liquor and can easily oblige their friends in these hours of "crisis". I also found many ruing their failure in befriending Jharkhand Armed Police (JAP) officers, who too, get their quota of subsidised liquor.

But there are some teetotaller cynics deriving a vicarious pleasure from the misery that the tipplers are undergoing of late. "Is liquor so important to life? I can't fathom why people have turned so restive in the absence of it. After all, drinking damages one's health," remarked J.P. Shrivastav, my teetotaller friend, also a vet by profession. I simply told Shrivastav that he was not a part of the "mainstream" of the society and that's why he was unable to appreciate the problem that the "mainstream" was suffering. The teetotallers, who are insensitive to the "sufferings" of their drink-loving friends should know that when the gods and goddesses did "samudra manthan" (churning of sea) in the hoary past, that great churning threw "som ras" (drinks) besides other valuable things. So, drinking has been a part of human life (even some gods have a weakness for addictions) ever since its inception in the mortal world.

Thus, the high court, which is seized with the matter, the government and the liquor barons must find a solution to the impasse and enable the mainstream to get the much-needed "elixir of life" as early as possible. The smile on the faces of teetotaller cynics must end now.

(Courtesy The Telegraph)

 

Nalin Verma

The Author is the Ranchi based special correspondent of the Telegraph

 

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