The Rich Addict

Amal sat by the side of the road, shaded under a tree. His almost skeletal form visible through the tattered clothes he wore. His hair was overgrown, his sunken face also sported an overgrown beard. His haggard appearance made him look much older than a thirty year old. He has been begging for money seated under this very tree for years now. He wasn't begging to buy food, nor did he have a family to support. He was begging for his next fix. He had been a drug addict ever since he was a teenager.

His mind wandered to the past, as he sat there, extending his right hand, palm upwards, towards anyone who passed by. He was born to a rich family, his father was a businessman, mother a homemaker. He has a younger brother and a sister. They lived in a bungalow in the heart of Colombo and the three of them went to prestigious schools. He had everything a teenage boy could ever ask for. He did well in school. He was a bright student, was involved in sports and other extra curricular activities. His family was so proud of him.

But his teenage happy go lucky life was turned upside down when he and his friends were introduced to drugs by a group of older boys at a party. It started gradually, first it was cigarettes, then alcohol and then they moved on to the big stuff. They started experimenting with whatever they could get their hands on, as time went by.

Once he was hooked there was no turning back. Suddenly the need for it grew stronger. He kept cutting class, stopped going for sports practices, abandoned all extra curricular activities. His overall performance at school suffered. The school authorities expressed their concern over his sudden change in behaviour and advised the parents to talk to him about it. The only activity he took an interest was inhaling or injecting drugs into his system.

But any discussion they had with him, any advice they gave him was in vain, no matter how many times he promised to change his life and give up his need for drugs, he always went back to it like a moth to a flame. His father took him to rehab centres in and outside of Colombo thrice, but his sobriety didn't last long as he somehow found a way to claw back in.

As his addiction progressed the measly few rupees his father gave him as pocket money wasn't enough.He started stealing from his parents, sold whatever knickknacks he could get his hands on around the house for money. Then he started stealing from his neighbours, often times breaking into their property while they were away on holiday. He remembered all the times he was arrested for robbery and the free overnight accommodations in jail till his father bailed him out.

The loud honking of a car passing by brought Amal back from his reverie. He shook his head and glanced at his wristwatch to check the time, and suddenly remembered that he no longer wore one. He had sold it a year ago. It had been the third one, which was a birthday present from his mother. He sighed and gathered his belongings and got up to leave as it was getting dark.

As he slowly walked toward home, he recalled the day his family left him and migrated overseas, leaving him all alone in that big house with two maids and a gardener to look after him and the house. His father has had enough, he had become a laughing stock to his neighbours his business partners, he couldn't tolerate his older son's addiction any longer, so he sold his shares in the business and left with the rest of his family. He agreed to let Amal stay in the house but never sent him any money, although his mother sometimes took pity on him and sent him presents on his birthday, but that stopped the moment his father found out. So he started begging for money.

He reached home and banged loudly on the gate several times until finally the gardener let him in. The gardener asked him where he's been as he’s not accustomed to seeing the young master returning home so late. Amal only grunted in reply as he was not in a mood to have a conversation. He hasn't had any luck all day, which made him grumpy.

He walked up to the front door and banged on it, it was opened a moment later by one of the maids who gave him a concerned look and asked him where he'd been, to which Amal replied “never mind where I've been, just mind your own business" he shouted as he climbed the staircase up to his room cursing and muttering under his breath and shut the door behind him loudly. He told himself that tomorrow he will get lucky, tomorrow he will find some money, tomorrow he will have his bliss.

THE END
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Author Notes: This short story was inspired by a true story related to me by a Uber cab driver while on my way to a job interview.

Now I am not the kind of person who strikes up a conversations with any driver, Tuk tuk/Uber or otherwise.

The conversation began as we stopped at a red light, there was a old beggar on the road going from vehicle to vehicle begging for money with a cigarette lighter in his hand, which he brought to my attention. Was that poor old man begging for money, for food or for his next drag? The cigarette lighter made everything clear.

The conversation turned to drugs. It was at this point that he told me the story. One day he had been driving a gentleman to Colombo 7 and as they passed through a certain street. He, the passenger had pointed to a man sitting on the side of the road and said, I know that person, we were in the same class at school, and he proceeded to tell the cabby the story. The below story is my reimagined version.

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