A strong memory

While names may fade, the emotions remain.
| Photo Credit: Getty Images/iStockphoto

On many occasions, I have wondered about the mysterious capacity for memory.

Yes, memory is something special for humans, and it is some special ability of a human that makes his life at times miserable and at times happy. All of us want to keep good memories in our minds, but the same mind, even without our permission, also stores the unpleasant ones much to our chagrin.

I can remember a bad incident from my elementary school days but I have forgotten some good things that happened in my high school and college days. I may remember some of the films I watched and in which theatre, but am unable to recall formulae in maths or thermodynamics that I studied in college. I used to remember the authors and books I read, but nowadays either the title or the author slips from my mind.

Well, today we all have a great companion ‘Google’ that can provide information in the case of books, movies, events or personalities. But will it find out and tell me where my schoolmate Kalidasan is? When I put this question to a school friend, he said, quite nonchalantly, that he doesn’t remember anyone by that name.

Today, alumni groups celebrate anniversaries and meetings with great enthusiasm. I also met some people from my batch a few years back. After that, there has been no interaction. I asked another friend about my postgraduate classmates but he too pleaded ignorance of their whereabouts.

I was very close to my students in my organisation; many even contact me now, which is really gratifying. Not all keep in touch. Can’t blame them. They have their profession, life, and families.

I close this essay with an interesting incident about failing memory with age.

A boy who did his project work in my department during the later part of my service became very close to me. He even stayed with me on a couple of occasions. During one of his visits, he took me on his bike for a second show in the Sathyam cinema complex. The movie was Fanaa (2006). He works in Kalpakkam as an engineer.

I met him one day in a restaurant. He came to my table and talked to me. I could not recall his name. I carefully conversed with him without touching upon his name. He asked me where he could drop me as he had come in his car. I referred to a bookshop in that area. He dropped me and drove on.

As his car moved away, in a flash of a second his name came to my mind: “Suneel”.

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