Appachchi, antics and after-effects:

Alcoholism vs peace at home

Charmaine FERNANDO

Watch the iridescent spark of a solitary moonbeam capture the edge of a crystal facet on the whiskey glass. Then solemnly reflect it on the red eyes of an alcoholic. One has to be born a poet to describe how the trembling fingers caress at the glass like a tendril in the wind. Every sip so reverently lifted to the lips, savoured with a solemnity so ethereal, one could hear the heavenly choirs pitch at a level with pure drunkenness; that high.

The non poetic side of the story is what happens after the spill level. Like the flood at the crack of the floodgates; like the drizzle that breaks in to torrents; like the soft blowing that hurls in to a whirl wind in full swing. Appachchi has his moments of spill. The antics begin. And end. The after effects are inexplicable. Insensitive. Intolerable. But it happens oh! So often that it has become habitual. .People loose their grounding to stand on. Home gets reduced to ashes. Life is not lived. But wasted. Destroyed. Stampeded upon.

Alcohol not only burns up the organs of ones body; it literally burns holes in peoples minds, hearts and souls. It changes one's perspective. It blurs one's outlook. It cripples one's dynamism. It deafens one to the sounds of reality and it blinds one's future. Alcohol burns up holes in the social fabric. Indiscipline becomes rampant in such a backdrop. Due to waste of wealth the family is deprived the provision of basic human needs. The country gets reduced in to intimidating poverty levels. The alcoholic is the least concerned.

Temptations come in all colours and sizes. Some are packed in exclusive gilt edged cases to lift its image that high, to lure in the gullible who in their greed are even picky and choosy about their vices. They come in all heights and sizes; some fat, short and stout, taking after their masters and others tall, long necked and shapely like the woman next door. Rather that's how they see it through the glass bottom.

The purest of these come in pure transparency like the elixir of life and they call it sterling! Most alcohol beverages have the tangy orange-yellow colours that excite the alcohol fanatics. They call it sovereign gold just for the love of it. "A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject" mused Winston Churchill, with his commonplace guffaw. One marked by excessive enthusiasm for and intense devotion to a cause or idea is termed as a "rabid isolationist". So you enjoyed the fourth double last one for the road, eh?

Alcoholism is defined as habitual intoxication; prolonged and excessive intake of alcoholic drinks leading to a breakdown in health.

But in actuality it also breaks down many things. For instance, the plates on the rack and the glasses in the cabinet. It also breaks chairs and tables and other handy decorative artifacts in to non reparable junk. But the worst breakable item of them all happen to be the family bonds and children's hearts and confidence in their 'Appachis'. The dictionary goes to extents to describe that an addiction to alcohol such that abrupt deprivation leads to severe withdrawal symptoms. Withdrawal of remaining bank balance, yes.

Withdrawal symptoms are best applied in this morbid situation, to children who disappear under the bed behind the wardrobes for sheer fear of being manhandled by a man who has lost all sensitivity to turn in to a four-legged animal that gives you the creeps.

Alcoholism is also an intense persistent desire to drink alcoholic beverages that it spills over the excess in different ways depending on the attitude and upbringing of the individual under the influence of liquor; like in abusing women including wife, instigating a free for all brawl in the neighbourhood, terror-driving the kids under the bed , table, chair whatever that's a cover in their little unseasoned minds.

These self-made heroes with Dutch courage to boot, use boisterous means of sky rocketing flying saucers, pots, pans and plates whatever that doesn't boomerang in their faces. But it leaves indelible marks decorating the pantry walls and floors with new definitive designs and irreparable cracks in the hearts of those that were victimized.

Appachchi's antics under the influence of liquor! What takes the cake here is that even the debris on the aftermath of his fireworks display, has to be cleared by the battered wife.

The alcoholic may wake up with a hangover the next day. Soon he will not remember a thread of what antics he created within the past few dreadful hours.

Once the hangover is off his brow, he is a cool man; the loving man; the gentleman! The least thing he wants to hear is about the after-effects. He wants to forget. But the hurt he inflicted on his own family, the fear he instilled in his own children and the terror that shook the walls and wrecked the family bonds need time to heal.

It might take days, weeks even months to repair the tatters. But for children, the terror and hurt will sit in some little corner in their subconscious to haunt them all their life. How can Appachchi put that right with all his heroic might? With all his Dutch courage? Can he? All his pocket money, school fees and home supplies, even life insurance he supplement home budget with, won't suffice.

What the kids will never understand about their beloved Appachchi will be why he loves that gold or sterling liquid more than his Chandi Putha or his darling little 'Doo'.

The sooner the dear Appachchi realizes his 'love for liquor is a terrible weakness', the better. He cannot afford to waste money on anything less important than his family. He cannot afford to set a bad presidence for his son to follow.

He cannot afford to let his daughter lose face in society and be nicknamed the 'drunkard's daughter', can he? How can he step out with his wife to walk across the neighbourhood, against the stares and glares of a saner neighbourhood who watched the fireworks last night? His reputation and respect matters. His father's family name matters, eh? More than all else, the children's future matters.

Think before you uncork. Decide between your precious family and this darn glass bottle. Don't let anyone or anything for that matter spoil your chances of being the best Appachchi in the world, for your adorable children. Decide today. Now, is even better.