One of advantages of growing older is that you develop a measured sense of memory loss. It becomes easier to forget. However, it becomes harder to forgive. The ability to forgive is certainly not a function of age but rather a state of mind. You are either born with it or you never have it. Perhaps its best, we don’t talk about forgiveness here or I will forget the topic at hand.
I remember distinctly my mother’s lap and me being put to sleep on it. Sure, over the ears my small head grew heavier and the lap was replaced by a non living pillow, but the gentle swaying of her lap and the resulting bobbing of my head, is unforgettable.
I have forgotten how it feels to be full. The hot and sour soup at the Local Thai establishment has soured my memory of the hot spicy soup that I could have for 25cents by the roadside in Pune. I can remember the street, the dirt and the horns. But I can’t quite place the taste. I suppose it must be generally sour?
For some reason, I can distinctly remember watching the rain drops go against the direction of gravity on our small car’s windshield as my Dad navigated in torrential downpour through the Western Ghats. Eventually we stopped for dinner, on a cold foggy but perfect night. My hand held video game involved a scuba diver getting past a LCD octopus.
But I can’t tell you exactly when I did my first ‘wrong’. I can’t even remember how I felt. On later occasions, after being caught and punished, I associated fear with wrong. But my first mistake just left me puzzled. Much like falling in love the first time!
So what do we remember when we forget?
Maybe I should understand what we forget, selectively, when we remember, voluntarily. Remember the smell but forget the taste? Think of the touch but forget the sight. Or rather, believe in the simple explanation of an aging limited mind. That as we pile on the years with countless materialistic memories of new cars, First class flights and Christmas parties, we begin to dislodge those simplistic memories of a purer past.
Frankly, I think, at some point you can forget only so much. You can remember only so much.
I think we choose to remember those things that leave an impact and let go of the other memories…we can never forget anything that affected us deeply..no matter how much we try !
Nice. It is interesting that despite my clean as a blackboard memory, I still remember being told that raindrops on a windshield will travel up if you are going sufficiently fast. Still seems magical to me!
Anon. I agree, I too was fascinated when I saw it the first time. And If I remember correctly that speed often used to be 90Kph on a suzuki 800? At 70 they would go horizontal and then start going up as you go faster
Man that forgetting / memory loss business sucks, i guess im forgetting things i learned during masters 🙁
Initially, I used to think that i rem only what i really want to, but now, somehoe there’s a weird coldness associated with everything, i don’t rem cos i dont care enough…
Mahesh: hehehe. Of all things that I have forgotten, that is the least of my worries
Upasna: ah ha my point exactly. Sadly how do we get rid of this coldness. Upasna, I want to remember everything.
Nice one dude! Don’t be surprised.. that I am reading your blog 😉
Heard of “Buffer Overflow” ? You have X amount of buffer and if that gets filled up, things start falling off. As we grow older, we have that many more things to store in the same X amount of buffer and hence the loss.
This is perfectly natural. Enjoy the moments as you live them 🙂 Thats the best we can do being only humans.
Cheers,
Swapnil.
There should be a wax museum…you walk along life, and one midas touch returns you back to forgotten memories…
We remember more tings from the times we were younger. Clean slate like minds, many incidents that happen to us for the first time leave ever lasting impressions. I remember meeting you for the first time. The rest of them…well were only abt meeting u again! 😀
Ok – I’m just harping! Nice article D. As usual 🙂
– P
Ballya: I would have never imagined that you lingered here. I am glad though and you make perfect sense. perhaps its the additional years you have on me?
As far as the buffer analogy, all seems great until you realize that even though you lose memory in the buffer it is still stored in some permanent location. isnt it?
Ups: Agreed. Should there be a admission fee to self?
P: thanks P. That was really well said. Loved the example!
Ballya: I would have never imagined that you lingered here. I am glad though and you make perfect sense. perhaps its the additional years you have on me?
As far as the buffer analogy, all seems great until you realize that even though you lose memory in the buffer it is still stored in some permanent location. isnt it?
Ups: Agreed. Should there be a admission fee to self?
P: thanks P. That was really well said. Loved the example!
Dushi and guess what? I am lingering here from Hawaii. Vacationing in heaven 🙂 and things are simply unbelievable, mind blowing and out of this world…. here
I am trying my best to fit things into my buffer as far as Hawaii goes :). Also using my camera as a fallback memory solution 🙂
You are right! Some things are stored forever. I still clearly remember so many targets 🙂
Cheers,
Swapnil
Should the fee not depend on whether you are in London or Washington?
…reminded me of this line from the novel ‘The memories of a giesha’…
“Sometimes, I think the things that I remember are more real than the things that I see”
Ups: What I meant is if we do somehow fix all our memories in wax, then I wonder if I myself would be inclined to see it again at any price 🙂
Unanchored Sails: I see you here after a long time! Like the quote, sounds surprisingly like something morpheus would say in the Matrix 🙂
One famous guy’s son does not own a mobile phone , and the guy said, yeah he (the son) is more evolved than me…
I guess I’d have to say that for you now 😉
the title of this post is just enough to make the point!
I was in Calcutta this weekend, with ma and dad. Calcuta is like going to “des” for me- its my ancestral home in some ways, where all the elders live, where daddy was once a small boy. And we have our ancestral home in Bada Bajaar (as we Gujjus call it). Of course, its ours no longer- sold to a Bengali businessman who uses it as a warehouse/packaging area for raincoats.
I had visited it long ago- perhaps when I was five, or six. And I was excited to be seeing it again. Except- it looked a little different from what I remebered. My memory had it as much more imposing, much cleaner somehow…it wasn’t so at all. So when I first saw it, it seemed strange. And I stubbornly struggled to find some point of familiarity- I must remember something!! It was home, after all!!
Until I reached the entrance staircase. And then a strong smell shoved my memory, almost abusing it, and the sense of home that I was looking for grabbed me!! It was a distinct, musty smell that caused my head to ache and cleared my memory.
I asked ma about it, and she told me there was a tobacco godown near there. It was the tobacco I was smelling…
My nose remembered what my eyes had forgotten. It funny, this dual process of remembering and forgetting. Everythings confusing until that one link of clarity catches you…
And as always my comment is way too long!! 🙂