Life as an NRI in a new country can be a double-edged sword. There’s the initial thrill of independence, the glittering promise of a better future, but beneath it all, a quiet loneliness often creeps in. For me, that loneliness, coupled with the relentless pressure of a demanding job and the absence of my family’s warmth, led me down a familiar path: smoking. It started innocently enough, a casual cigarette after a particularly stressful day, a way to connect with colleagues. Soon, it became my silent companion, a ritual I craved, especially with my evening chai, far away from my mother’s watchful eyes.
My Stomach Won’t Stop Screaming After Quitting Smoking! An NRI’s Desperate Plea.
Published Anonymously
Submitted by a real person and published with their consent. Identity is never revealed.