WHAT
WENT WRONG - 6
My name is Mustafa aged
38 years. I originally come from Iran and have been living in Delhi as a refugee for the last
10 years having migrated from my country in order to save my life.
Born in a port city of Iran, I am the fourth child of my parents and have four brothers and a
sister. My father was a senior government officer in the Fisheries department. We were amongst
the richest citizens of our town having a lot of property and therefore, our childhood days
are full of pleasant memories. Having lead a comfortable life, I completed my schooling and on
the threshold of my youth, dreamt of doing something meaningful.
I was in company of some friends who used to consume alcohol. I started drinking at the age of
15. It was an open society so far as alcoholism was concerned. While all this was happening, a
section of the society was revolting against the regime and its policies. The youth were the
most active and I was drawn in the political activities plaguing my nation at that time.
The revolution gained momentum and the government started reacting - with force. They started
arresting the protestors and put them in jail. I too was got arrested, albeit on mild charges.
People arrested on treason charges had no choice but to suffer and die. In fact, almost 50 to
60 people were taken away from the prison cells, and hanged by their neck or shot. Everyone
knew what was happening to them, but could not protest. I was scared of opening my mouth, lest
the same fate befalls on me.
I was released after six month of torturous incarceration. I came to know that a lot of my
friends and associates had been missing. They were reported to have been killed while others
had fled the country. Now there was a threat to my life too. I went into hiding looking for an
opportunity to flee. The situation was very bad. I learnt that they were looking for me.
My family was very well connected, and this, for once came to my rescue. I managed to reach
the border and crossed over into neighboring Pakistan. It was a learning experience for me. I
got to know that things could be managed to be done if you had the power or money to cover the
expenses. Till now I had both. The journey ahead was going to be tough. I had no idea where I
would land up. The followers of the regime were everywhere, even in Pakistan.
Some known people, who had managed to desert our nation earlier, were living in Karachi. I
contacted them when I reached the city. They were very supportive. They provided me with food
and shelter. My drinking habits were on the rise. I could manage to cover the expenses from
the money, which I used to get from my family and relatives living in the Gulf countries. This
money used to come in the name of my friends as they had managed to get their documents
prepared which enabled them to live in the city legally. I could not attempt the same now as
my friends advised me against it. Our native people were present everywhere looking for
revolutionaries and it was rumoured that they could kill at will. Having stayed for over a
year, I could sense that the heat was on and they were zeroing in on us. To be alive, I had to
reach a safe place. It could be India but getting there was going to be difficult.
Money came in handy again and my friends' contacts kept their promise and I managed to get
myself on board a ship, which was sailing to Bombay. The journey was comfortable and passage
into India was still smoother. Near the harbour, we shifted to a small boat which brought me
inconspicuously into Bombay, undetected. With a little money borrowed from my friends and no
papers on me, I immediately boarded a train bound for Delhi as I knew of some refugees living
in there for years.
I contacted them upon reaching Delhi and they proved to be helpful. They provided me with
accommodation and even took me to the UNHCR (United Nations High Commission for Refugees) in
order to get me registered as a refugee. After completing all formalities I got my papers and
I could heave a sigh of relief. However, the process and my ordeals of living in a totally
unknown city had taken its toll. I had begun to drink heavily and even started smoking charas
and ganja. My family reputation was of tremendous help in Delhi and got me in a circle of good
friends who were very helpful, though they were equally responsible for converting my drinking
habits into becoming a drug addict. Some money still came from home and my relatives. The rest
was taken care of by the allowance UNHCR was giving me.
I was doing nothing to keep me busy and away from drugs. My addiction started demanding its
pound of flesh. I became a wreck. I preferred to stay without food but not without drugs. I
started developing mental problems and my health started deteriorating. I was barely able to
walk. I kept myself occupied with drugs and friends who took drugs with me.
I moved out of the rented accommodation as I could not pay the rent. I started sleeping on the
footpath or in night shelters if I could manage to reach there in time. UNHCR learnt about my
habits and advised me to undertake de-addiction treatment or else they would stop my
allowance. I did not care and the allowance was stopped.
News traveled home and my brother soon arrived. He and the UNHCR authorities recommended me to
many de-addiction centers. My brother took me forcibly to these centers, but I managed to run
away. He was, however, successful in getting me admitted to a private hospital. My condition
improved and my brother left, content. But I started consuming everything again.
A stage came when I started repenting my habits. UNHCR took me to Navjyoti De-addiction clinic
this time. Having interacted with the patients and the staff, I decided to undertake complete
treatment this time.
Post treatment, I got better and properly cured of my addiction. In fact, I put in voluntary
service with the organization and also benefited from the training the organization provided
in collaboration with UNDCP for the rehabilitation of former drug addicts. I am now working
with Navjyoti in its Outreach team, spreading awareness about the evils of drug addiction as I
am the best lesson for others.
What went wrong
Absence of democracy in my country drove me away from home and got me into the company of
friends who lead me to the path of destruction. |
