Juul, the aspirational new cigarette substitute that looks like a sleek USB stick, is sweeping urban India. But Juul isn’t revolutionary – it is, at best, all smoke and mirrors. One day, we’ll probably look back on this as a passing fad, just like TikTok videos.
Here’s what it’s like to be thirty-five, from my point of view. No kids, but a flat that we run with admirable orderliness. Instead of doing tequila shots, we do juice detoxes.
In Chennai, I have to pay 200 rupees at a posh café, every time I want to smoke a 16-rupee cigarette. Not that chauvinism doesn’t exist in other Indian cities, but it is especially pronounced in my home city.
I wish someone had introduced me to weed on those nights I spent prowling around Haryana like a disoriented panther looking for my children. Think about it: If I was high, and Shardul announced right after his Grade XII exams that he wants to be a truck driver, I probably wouldn’t lose my temper.