I am not into drugs,” she repeats five times in course of a single chat. And she changes the storyline of her first brush with drugs in Delhi so often-in one she is offered a joint by a call centre colleague in the office car, in another a stranger cajoles her to snort in a toilet at Hotel Samrat-that you start doubting her claims.
Whichever version you believe, there’s no dithering when she describes the “cocktail” that quietly changes hands every midnight shift at her call centre: “Cough syrup and rum, pepsi or coke, with crushed spasmo proxyvon tablets and a bit of iodex.”
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