In my iPod: !Viva La Gloria! - Green Day
State of mind: Looking for the dream
Location: Varanasi, India
You know I am a man of deeds when it comes to fucking, alcohol, drugs and anything that are bad for me. Often I would fucking do it first before I put in any thought. But after scoring my first stash of Ganja from the streets of Varanasi, I am in the dilemma - to smoke or not to smoke. Frankly, I have no fucking problem with drugs or shit that are totally destructive to the human health. But I hate smoking and I hate smokers even more. Yes, I have a fucking problem with smokers that smoke in front of me or anywhere that I can fucking smell it. I am totally behind the fucking government for banning smoking in public places and imposing fucking high fines, as a matter of fact I don't give a cow's testicle if you fucking throw them in jail. If you say that I am prejudice against smokers; that is an understatement. It is something that I am proud of and always will be. That is why these fucking lungs right here; it has never taken in a single puff; fuck, I never even light a cigarette before in my entire life. When it comes to smoking, you can call me a 30 year old virgin.
To do drugs is another thing but smoking is just too much for me. I wanna get high and experiment with drugs but I am not willing to turn into something that I fucking loath. So I think I will just keep the chillum as a emblem and reminder of the day I nearly succumb to smoking; as for the little tiny whinny bit of ganja, I went back to the vendor and I told him what the fuck was in my mind, asking him if he could give me a demonstration on how the fucking Indian here smoke the fucking chillum by using my stash. I don't know if he thinks that I am a wimp but he gladly agree to do so because I didn't ask for a refund or anything. I fucking thought to myself, this way, at least I could get a little high by smelling the smoke and also my lung hymen would still be intact.
After showing me how it is done, he told me instead of smoking it, why don't I consume it. Fuck, now only he tells me after he has fucking finished smoking my stash. I was told that there are some stalls here that sells Lassi (yogurt drinks) that comes with cannabis. If you don't wanna smoke it, you might as well drink it. So he gave me some direction to one of the infamous Lassi Wallah that still makes this sort of totally illegal drinks.
When I reached there, it was like any open shack; just like the ones in Malaysia where fucking Malays sells fried banana fritters. A topless man was standing on top of a raised platform with a stone rolling pin in his hands and on the floor next to him was an open newspaper bundle of pale yellow-green stalks of you-fucking-know-what. If you still don't have a clue, let me put it this way - the secret ingredient of the good shit he is selling here.
With my right hand pointing towards the yellow and green shit laying on the floor and another hand showing him my index finger, I gave him the eyebrow; the topless man immediately understood what I was there for. Quickly he took some stalks from the bundle and then he uses the rolling pin to roll it like he was rolling flour. Half way rolling, he takes a small bottle filled with something that looks like oil; poured a bit on the stalks and continued on rolling. Now with the mixture of the oil and cannabis was quickly turning into a greenish gooey paste. Next a young boy came over with a cup of white colored liquid as thick as sperm which I assume must be the Lassi. The man uses his index and thumb to scoop up a little of the gooey paste as big as a moth ball and then placed it into the Lassi. The boy stirs it and the result was a green smoothie looking kind of drink. The boy then places it in front of me.
So this was it, my first cup of Bhang Lassi . I took a sniff and it smelled like sour cream blended with some green vegetables. Fearing that it is going to taste bitter and gross, I drain down that cup in a single breath. But it was just too fast for me to identify how it fucking tasted like. So I ordered another one. But once again, I pour it down my throat too fast because the sour smell of was just too revolting for me. Right about now, I realized that I had to stop because I still have a little distance to walk from here to the hotel and it ain't good to be getting all high in the streets of a city which I am totally unfamiliar with.
But it was too late; suddenly everything around me just seems to be moving in supra speed. My legs were wobbly and the narrow alley seems to be getting really small that I begin to walk sideways. There was a point that I was practically pressing my back against the wall as I pass through the back lanes. People around me were giving me the weird look but at last I managed to find my way back to my hotel.
Anyway, What I fucking learned today was: never drink your Bhang Lassi the way you hit Tequillas or you'll be walking like a crab.
 A person who sells Lassi
 Dahi yogurt drink with a dash of ground cannabis