Not a day in recent times has passed without some report or the other on the drug menace in Kerala. ‘New drug capital of India’ and ‘Udta Kerala’ are atrocious and, at the same time, alarming tags that the state has acquired.
A TNIE reader recently suggested: “Rather than highlighting gloom and doom, why don’t you guys write positive stories about people who have battled out of addiction?”
Well, he had a point.
Indeed, amidst the bleak backdrop, there is a quiet, resolute community — perhaps small in number, but mighty in spirit — who are walking back from the edge.
We spoke to a few such individuals who, with sheer grit and the support of groups like Narcotics Anonymous (NA), have turned their lives around. They are living proof that it’s never too late to take control and begin anew. And, more importantly, they offer hope to those still trapped in addiction’s deadly grip.
Basheer P, who runs a textile shop, is one such individual who now dreams of setting up a holistic treatment centre for drug addicts. “Most places, especially the private ones, do patchwork,” he says.
“The addict stays for 15 days or a month. They are given some basic treatment, and then discharged. What is needed is a place where there are people with similar pasts, sharing their stories and showing by example that it is never too late to change. I know this because it helped me.”
Basheer compares drug craving to the desperation one feels during heartbreak. It is something that demands long-term, empathy-based healing.
“I started with cigarettes and pan masala in Class 5. Then I tried ganja, which a friend offered. I got hooked. Soon I became a peddler as I needed money to sustain my addiction. I was just about 15 or 16. I remember selling ganja to younger kids. The remorse still pricks me,” he recalls.
“Being a peddler, it did not take much time for me to try brown sugar. I started injecting it into my veins. Police cases followed. I was once jailed too. However, even on the day I got released, I went around looking for brown sugar.”
‘Thrashed for picking pockets’
Rejected by his family and community, Basheer started misbehaving with relatives for money.
“It’s a typical pattern of most addicts. Have you analysed the recent cases where youngsters killed their kith and kin for money?” he asks.
“Once addicted, the withdrawal symptoms will make one do any damn thing to get the next round of intoxication. Mind you, I am not talking about mere craving. Withdrawal symptoms are harrowing. It stunts sanity.”
This is where treatment comes in, Basheer points out. “Unfortunately, the kind of treatment one gets is not holistic. In seven days, the physical discomfort due to withdrawal symptoms may start to fade. In about two to three weeks, it will be possible to be largely in control. That’s the time an effective support system has to take over,” he remarks.
Lacking that support at 20, Basheer fled to Mumbai with a stolen gold chain belonging to his younger sister. “There, I picked rags, begged and slept on the streets. All for making money to buy drugs. I did a lot of stuff that’s better left unsaid,” he says.
“I even got thrashed up once for picking pockets at Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. Over time, I grew weak. I could barely walk.”
At that point, there was an internal churn, he says. “I genuinely wished I could leave drugs,” says Basheer.
His first step towards recovery began at a rehab named Sankalp. From there, he got into the NA — what he calls “the fellowship”.
An NA meeting typically involves sessions with peers to discuss experiences, share tips, boost morale, and offer guidance. The meetings are secular, free and anonymous. “NA’s only goal is to create a community where people help each other’s road to recovery,” says Basheer.
They follow a 12-step programme that includes accepting the addiction, finding support in a “higher power”, taking stock of mistakes, weaknesses and strengths, a resolve to tide over personal shortcomings and helping one another.
“During that period, I heard many who shared stories similar to mine. I could relate with them. I was inspired by how some of them had come out of addiction. Their sharings gave me hope. Also, there were group activities that offered unalloyed fun. I felt genuinely happy and cared for. There was a sense of belonging. It, however, was no quick-fix. I relapsed. Yet, I kept fighting back.”
Now at 43, Basheer is married, and a father of three. “I am now financially helping my sister, whose chain I stole, to become a lawyer. My dream is to set up a treatment centre where people won’t feel they are in a lonely battle. I will be with them all through,” he smiles.
Anirudhan (name changed) is also on a similar mission to help people struggling with addiction.
“There are many people who desperately need help around us. It is just that they are not speaking out,” he says.
“To such souls, I present myself as an example. I was pulled into the world of alcohol and drugs when I was just 14. Some of my old friends still try to lure me back to that noxious world, but I resist.”
Anirudhan began to realise the dire consequences of substance abuse when he found himself unable to continue his work as an interior designer.
“I then began selling stuff to make money for booze and drugs even as the reality around me was horrifying. Many of my friends who used to drink and do drugs with me were either succumbing to ailments or dying by suicide,” he says.
“My mental state was reeling towards a chasm. I wanted to leave home. I was unable to face people. It was a traumatic phase. My family took me to de-addiction centres. I wanted to quit drugs — but just couldn’t. It was as if I was possessed.”
The turning point came when he began working with NA. “At the support groups, I found people who encouraged and motivated me to fight the urge to relapse,” he recalls.
Soon, Anirudhan — now 37 and rebuilding his career — found himself passing the message of hope. “I started helping people trapped like how I had been. And that, in turn, kept me going clean. It has been two years now. I tell my story out loud. Some people may need medical treatment. We ensure that first,” he says.
A similar story is of Suhas (name changed), who wants his journey to serve as a beacon for others. He, too, was introduced to drugs in his teens.
“I was a multi-addict. There is nothing I have not tried — ganja, hashish, cocaine, MDMA, and whatnot,” he sighs.
“When I was in my 20s, my family sent me abroad to break the influence of my friends. But once an addict, always an addict. There, too, I started experimenting with all kinds of drugs. One day, I ended up stabbing a friend of mine during a delirious brawl. I myself took him to hospital later. I was jailed. Fortunately, my friend testified that the act was unintentional, and hence, I was saved.”
On returning home, Suhas faced rejection. His marriage ended in divorce. He eventually got a job in Alappuzha, where he met his second wife. “She stood by me,” he says.
“She handheld me. I always wanted to change, but kept relapsing. Three years ago, she caught me taking MDMA and broke down. That’s when I knelt down and prayed to God to help me change for good. Withdrawal symptoms were painful, but I would pray. Camaraderie with people who have gone through this helped me fight back,” he says.
Today, Suhas runs a small-scale business and works with NA groups supporting those trying to quit drugs and alcohol. His wife, too, works with affected families.
“It is possible to beat the addiction. But one has to put in effort. We should follow up on share-and-care meetings. If one drifts away, there will be a relapse,” he says.
“I trusted my group members, who to me are like family now. I go with them to tell people about my struggle. If my story can inspire at least one soul, what greater deed can I think of?”
For those who need help
Narcotics Anonymous — Kerala Service Committee: 87714466814
Groups mentioned in the article are voluntary fellowships. They are not alternatives to medical attention and advice.