Into the caverns of memory

……Books, quotes, poetry, words, images, music, conversations, people, laughter, sorrow, belonging– things that I discover fresh from my memories. Umberto Eco makes me want to dwell into the many confines of events that now lay bundled together in my brain. Sometimes, rain does this- invokes a melancholy of people and bygone events. Music also makes me wander into the deep recesses of my dreams and nostalgia stored away. I remember a time when I thought travel was the ultimate way of getting away from stress and the mundane chaos of everyday life. But even this illusion broke its wings quickly. I realised and understood that travel couldn’t substitute for the longing I felt in my heart for things unknown. It was just another route on the way to discovering ourselves, a means to say.

Sometimes after reading auto-biographies I fall in awe of all these greats who could remember great details from their early lives or perhaps, they had made notes of it. What an absurd thought that a child would scribble notes about an amusing anecdote happening to him so that he could revive it back as an adult in some book! Well, but absurdities are what make us human. Life is like the ear wax- sometimes unwanted trash gets accumulated but we are too lazy to get rid of it and sometimes we can hardly await till we throw away anything that slightly feels like the beginning of trash accumulation. Interestingly, our own bizarre self disagrees with itself, a bit too violently about stepping into the unknown and uncomfortable. The ground forces a fierce battle with the sky when we wish to reach towards it unprepared and aimless. At times like these when I feel vague place- holders on my life, it angers me first, then my mind starts counter-arguments, then I calm down and look at it through a stranger’s eyes to find that it comforts me a lot to know that not everything is wrong. I am not going to blame myself for all failures, but neither am I placing the blame on others. Sometimes, we just need to disown these situations and moments where everything seems to go wrong. I mean there is hardly ever a perfect time when everything goes smooth and we feel like top of the game because Shakespeare articulated it simply and brilliantly that this too, shall pass.

What a great amount of secrets and lies do we conceal in our memories! And it feels so natural to do. If we could see through the foggy mirrors that are standing against us, we will know that everything is invisible, even our genteelness. All that we ever see reflected in people’s goodness and kindness for us is not for our own virtues and qualities but just a reflection of their own inherent good naturalness. It’s true when they say that children are the most honest and non-corrupt beings because they haven’t learnt the misfortunes and barter systems in life at that age. How I wish this stayed true with us adults as well? Is it ever possible to let go of material desire and feel the ray of unadulterated calm and peace within? My memory holds all those grudges and sorrowful miseries which mean nothing at the end of the day when we evaluate their importance in our life. It’s strange that there are statistics that suggest most humans only use 10% of their brains and about 0.5% of their memory in their lifetime. Who does all this account keeping and why is every individual supposed to surpass or stay within these numbers? We put ourselves in barricades all the time, first as gender, then as individual beings and finally as the class system merges in society. This clubbing is harming our prospects as beings that could be more than our collective gender forms and race and colour and nationalities.

I always get amused at this coincidence that my memory betrays my thoughts only to later come back to embrace the various emotional upheavals I go through in my heart. There is some sadistic pleasure that misery puts us through only we can’t decipher it then. Why else would chocolate or fresh flowers or rain give so much happiness to a majority of people and gadgets or luxury make a handful miserable? We shall find answers when we ask the right questions.


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