Every single time I see someone smoking, I am captivated by this mad urge to wrench the cigarette from their fingers and clasp around it my own. I long for that familiar sensation of having inhaled – but every single time, I fight this urge and look away determinedly. It’s been six years since I quit smoking and it’s still an ongoing battle.

The first time I put a cigarette to my lips was in the company and at the persuasion of people I once called ‘friends’. While others sputtered on their first drags, I found it curiously easy to inhale deeply. Then something strange happened – an inexplicable sense of calm and joy coursed through my veins as a remarkable stupor overcame me. That night I hid the remaining cigarettes in my pocket.

That began probably one of the darkest chapters of my life. In the dead of the night I would sneak up to the terrace and in silence and solitude I would smoke away my problems, my fears, my uncertainties. At all times, I kept strong mint candies and gums on myself, and made sure my clothing smelled of anything but cigarettes and unwanted gifts of perfumes in bad taste would do just fine. The day would pass in a lull as I would eagerly await the night.
Pretty soon I was working out ways to smoke during the day too. I smuggled my packs home covered in at least three carrier-bags hidden in different things. I suddenly realized my cigarettes were finishing faster than usual. With a pang it dawned on me – that I was addicted.
“Am I really addicted? Surely, I can quit when I want, right? It’s just a bit of harmless fun. Everyone does it, and it looks so damn cool,” I remember thinking to myself, even as I was mortally afraid someone would find out.
Alas, I was sadly mistaken. I was fully and truly hooked.

Between making every effort to keep my family from finding out and acquiring (and consuming) cigarettes, I had little time for anything else and predictably, my grades at school slipped. To make matters worse, the maid who cleaned up my room commented on the strange smell in my room as well as on my clothes. Before however, any action could be taken, something wonderful happened. We set off for a minor pilgrimage or Umrah.

While in the sacred lands of Al-Haram, I found the perfect way to quit and make my repentance. It was around this time that I learnt the nitty-gritty on smoking and would like to share some facts with you.
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Smoking reduces life expectancy by 7 – 8 years. That means each cigarette shortens the life of the smoker by around 8 minutes. 1 out of 5 deaths in developed nations can be attributed to tobacco products.
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Tobacco smoke contains over 4,000 chemicals, many of which are highly toxic and over 40 of which are known to cause cancer. There is no safe ‘low tar’ cigarette and no safe level of smoking.
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The second-hand smoke your family is exposed to puts them at risk for a number of diseases such as lung-cancer, nasal sinus-cavity cancer, asthma and ear-infections.
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Smoking stinks – both literally and figuratively. Your mouth, your clothes, even your hair smells awful! And your skin wrinkles faster.
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A smoker is 10 times more likely to develop lung cancer. Heavy smokers are 15 to 25 times more at risk than non-smokers. 85% of all male cases and 77% of female cases of lung cancer are related to smoking. There are 445 new cases of lung cancer stemming from smoking every single day (That’s 1 every 3.2 minutes)!
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Male smokers may produce less sperm and their sperm may have more abnormalities than that of non-smokers. Women who smoke are more likely to have decreased fertility, premature babies, babies with low birth-weight and miscarriages.

I returned from Umrah with some serious resolve. I was never going to smoke again. I was greeted back home by an unfinished pack of ciggys stashed away in the bottom drawer of my bedside table. I would quit, but tomorrow. Just a last farewell drag wouldn’t hurt. I wildly hunted around for a match-box or a lighter, excited and longing to smoke. Perhaps the Lord destined it so, but I could find nothing to light it. Suddenly I realized what was happening, and before temptation got the better of me, one by one, I cut up each remaining cigarette and with a sigh, flushed them down the loo. And I haven’t smoked since.

However, the fact remains that I’m constantly fighting a wild craving for just one – one smoke. But so far, I’ve held on to a resolve which I hope will strengthen with this piece of writing.

To all those young people wanting to try out smoking because it appears sexy and cool (but is NOT either) I have just two words for you, uttered with earnest beseech and a bottomless pit of regret for the mistake I once made.

Please. Don’t.

When our grandson was born, we followed our son’s request and never smoked around him, but would run and hide outside no matter what the weather conditions were to have that forbidden cigarette. I remember well that cold winter day when I slipped outside on the patio in hopes of having a cigarette. I will never forget the look upon his face or his little voice as he said,

“Nana, come in, it’s cold, you get sick.”

That image of my grandson stood out in my mind and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake it. Finally I went to my husband and told him what my feelings were and asked him if he’d be willing to quit smoking with me. He readily agreed, and here we are today over 3 months free of that horrible addiction.