STONED-DEAD IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE
I’m riding my beaten-up Enfield through this small village in the middle of the vast Thar Desert, somewhere in northwest India. The main street is unpaved and littered with trash and tired-looking cows. There’s a grocery shop with rusty rails covering the front window, few improvised motorbike repair shops, a barber, a tiny branch of a local cell phone company, and an Opium joint. Yes, that’s right. A dark, dingy, open-for-all Opium den.
Rajasthan evokes romantic images of grand palaces, brightly colored markets, bigger-than-life vistas, and ladies with the most extravagant mix jewelry and colored veils. I covered the last one in a post about an unexpected invitation to a wedding in the Thar Desert.
In short, Ali Baba & Aladdin may have originated in Persia, but their imagery in popular culture is 100% Rajasthani.
Welcome to the dark side
So much for the goodies. Welcome to the darker side.
Rajasthan is an Opium hot spot. Growing Poppies, and harvesting them are – believe it or not – legal. So is their consumption. All you need is to first have is a proper permit and then access to one of 264 licensed Opium joints – called Dodas. But, this being rural India, drug laws, permits and general regulation are often no more than an amusing curiosity. The guys at this specific – unlicensed – den wouldn’t likely be able to read a permit even if they had one. Curious as we were, we solicited the help of a local merchant and asked them if they had one. Of course, they had no clue of what we were blabbering about. It could be they were just way too high. Who knows.
The truth is that that Opium abuse is not rare around the countryside of northwestern Rajasthan. Hardships, age, injuries, and pain take their toll. In these places, Opiates are the cheapest, most available cure. Naturally, they solve nothing, but one can say the same about alcohol.
Fast solution – the Indian way
In 2016 the Rajasthan government (each one of India’s 29 States runs its own government) decided to shut down all legal Dodas and revoke all 19,000 thousand permits. That same year, the same government decided to grant more licenses to Poppy farmers. Go figure. in any case, I don’t think the folks down at the village were greatly impressed with this contradiction of policies.
As for us, my friend and I figured it was dangerous enough riding ancient Royal Enfields on ancient Indian roads without being stoned out of our minds. We politely declined the friendly invitation for a pipe, and navigated our way to the next destination, trying not to hit any dumb, lazy cow on the way.