The Downfall of Intelligence

There he was. Tall, dark and lean. His ever curious eyes peeping through the steel rimmed glasses. Tashi walked across the conference room with the same old assurance, his body leaning forward slightly. 

The most noticeable was the once intelligent face hidden behind a mask of scaly layer of blackish skin. It was the cruelty of being consumed by alcohol, although he took pride in the belief that he was the consumer rather than the consumed. Cruelty visited him in many other forms. One was the missing front teeth that made him look almost 60. It made Dema wonder if Tashi had had his share of good youthful times, like every man is known to boast about. If not, what a shameful waste! She thought.

Tashi got busy with his laptop. The latest sony brand, Dema noticed. His hands trembled as he took it out from its bag and settled it on the beautiful Bhutanese design coffee table.

"I want to show you'll something," he said, as he looked around for a plug hole.

"Here's one," called out Nirula.  

Very quickly, a few of Tashi's friends helped him arrange an LCD projector from the resort. The popular Jamyang Resort, offering the splendid night view of Thimphu Town. The equipment was finally set up. Tashi sat on a chair looking pretty impatient. Dema guessed he was eager to show his friends what he had prepared. (No one knew what, at that point) 

Tashi's friends were all seated around the conference table covered with a plain white cloth. Mineral water bottle invitingly standing tall between two empty glasses turned upside down in front of each one of them. Dema's throat-ache compelled her to look away from the tempting cold water, but how could she ignore the strange feeling of dryness in her mouth? 

"Please get me some hot water," Dema asked one of the hotel waitresses.

Tashi's friends had been waiting almost an hour for another friend, who was kind of special for being in a higher status than the rest of them gathered there. He wasn't known to be intelligent those school days, but there he was enjoying status and power with absolute ease. He lived in a luxurious bungalow, where his classmates were invited to dinner. His happiness was clearly written all over his face. He must've wanted to share the joy with his friends and, indeed, the dinner gathering was a great moment of happiness for all of them. He pleasantly surprised all of them by presenting to each one of them a set of very old black and white class photographs. Dema noticed that the girls had their hair very short (Bhutanese cut, they used to say), with half the ears showing and the front hair running straight across the forehead above the eyebrows. How they hated it! They thought it made them look old fashioned and ugly.     

In contrast to the bungalow friend, there was the tall, dark and lean friend - once known to be one of the most intelligent in the class; now having succumbed to 'something' that they were yet to discover. Either his every day socializing quota had blown to uncontrollable volume by natural course, or he had begun to depend too heavily on it with so much emptiness inside of him to fill up. Whatever the reason, it wasn't obvious.

He cracked intelligent jokes, as always. He spoke with wisdom, as always. He aired his wittiness, as always. Nothing much different about him, except his physical self. What a pity! Handsomeness reduced to something no less than the looks of charcoal. With the girls, he would always keep a great distance. It was never understood why. Nobody was bothered by that, anyways. Dema remembered him turning in the opposite direction and running the instant he saw a girl coming. Today, he appeared a changed man in the way he talked to the ladies in poetic expressions, describing the geography of a woman's body that he claimed to be somebody else's words. What was going on in his mind? What were behind those smiles? How Dema wished to figure out... if only she could make it her business.      

Their long awaited special classmate arrived at last. He had been busy at a meeting and that too on a blessed Sunday. There was a shake of hands and exchange of faint smiles. Everybody was actually ready to go back home. Dema's throat was getting worse by the minute. 

"You're one hour late!" remarked one of the ladies, very boldly. 

That was Sonam - one of the tougher ladies in the class. She had been one of the more intelligent ones too those school days. Both she and Dema were very fond of mathematics and particularly the lessons by their most favourite teacher, Reverand Father Robert. Both of them imagined they would become doctors. Sonam ended up a housewife with a part time job of tutoring and Dema ended up between trying to be a good mother and an efficient working woman. Neither of the two intelligent girls gained any status or power... ever. They just went about their business as usual. The fortunate thing is nothing snapped inside of them to ever make them lose hope and succumb to the dreadful power of alcohol or drug. Were they to be grateful for that? Could't tell yet. There were many more miles to travel. There was much more to see of the world. If there were such a thing as destiny, then waiting seemed like the only option.   

"Hey! Come on! You can't shout at the Minister for being late," remarked Nirula, jokingly, of course. 

The conference suddenly came alive with a roar of laughter. Dema's hot water arrived in a special Chinese mug that she quickly placed under the table, for fear of appearing disrespectful in front of the man of status and power. Their very own Honourable Member of Parliament, Devendra. 

"OK, Tashi. Let's begin," the Minister announced and there was silence all of a sudden, as if cast by a spell.

On the screen appeared some text and the title was related to alcoholism. Tashi began to read out what he had worked on at the hospital, on the suggestion of a lady psychiatrist. It was about the initial days of his drinking, which he said were during school times in the rural setting of Kanglung. He said it all began as pleasurable trips, while for the rural people it was a great source of income. His friends waited for him to come to the part when he had begun to exceed his normal quota, hoping to learn what had driven him to it. That part wasn't included in the write up he was sharing with his anxious friends. They couldn't even find a way of reading between the lines. Just as they were showing impatience, he muttered that he realized he had become an alcoholic when he started hiding and drinking. The curiosity of his friends remained unquenched. They still didn't get to understand what exactly led him to that state. He deliberately remained silent on that. It was perhaps left up to the group to read between the lines. It was understandable, given his nature of being highly 'independent.' What mattered to him the most was his office work. He hardly had time for family and friends. Distant. Cold. That's how he appeared to his classmates... most of the time. If not so, perhaps they could've detected some signs and prevented him from falling.  

His falling into that state was indeed the downfall of intelligence itself. And, not having maintained that bonding with family and friends, it became difficult to connect to one another. Tashi's friends failed to connect with him that afternoon.

But, of course, it was a mirthful afternoon. Everybody laughed to heart's content. Everybody played sudo, drinking tea or coffee or cool soft drinks and eating yummy chocolates brought by Yangden. No alcohol!!!

As the clock struck 6 PM, Tashi mumbled that he had to get back to the hospital for his medicine. His friends hugged him and wished him speedy recovery. It was hard to tell what their being there meant to him, but his agreeing to come said a lot. They hoped he left with the assurance in his heart that they were there for him, to provide the moral support that they were aware he would deny being in need of.

Dema returned home that evening with the thought that intelligence did not necessarily reign in the real world. Later that night, Dema ended up at the hospital emergency with excruciating pain in her throat and tears running down her cheeks. At that point, swallowing any bit of saliva had also become extremely difficult.

"If only I had listened to my head that warned me to leave earlier that afternoon," she thought to herself. "Instead, I foolishly listened to my stupid heart that felt compassion and enjoyed the occasion filled with laughter."

Tashi had probably been trapped in the like manner, bringing the downfall of the glorified reign of intelligence.