HALP HALP Stop the clock

Had a semi panic attack yesterday. I realzied that...I haven't smoked for over a year. Can't drink wine anymore. One Margarita makes me drunk. Joints? What's that? December date is racing toward me in all its glory and with it jog all the gold, sari, and how-to-be-a-good-bahu paraphernelia. Funnily what set off the panic was an innocent article I started writing for The Players Newsletter (a college theatre group I was a part of at some point in my life a gazillion years ago). As I recalled the mad stoned days at the Pilani festival, all-nighters in the audi with navy cuts and hip flasks, train rides, random crushes and the fanfare we usually collected after our performances, I felt like I've been tamed. By this country, this PhD, and most likely-ly by my age. And I wailed in fright. And in denial. NO NO I can't have left all that behind. It has to come back again.

Poor A watched the panic attack reach its peak and subside. Half-amused, half scared. I am sure he was rolling his eyes and laughing hysterically inside. or maybe he was preparing to run! Anyhow. The phase has passed. But I am still looking for a theatre group in town. So if anyone feels like doing some social service. Write in with suggestions on how to rewildify a rapidly tamified life.