Wednesday, September 09, 2009

Erase memories


One day I will just pop some sleeping pills and erase all memories. What do you do with them, anyway? Some you just share with your friends every time whisky and cigarettes are being passed around. They know it well by now. It’s like a journey to a place where you have been a thousand times. You know every turn, every bend, every pothole. The same is with the memories I share with my friends. They know it all by heart by now. They know where I will pause; they know every expression on my face, and where it will change and to what.

But they keep silent. Probably they realise that these mean a lot to me. So they hear it again. “… And then she came with her arms open and hugged me in front of everyone. I still remember she was wearing an electric blue sari….” “We danced all night – she and I – holding each other tight.” “And then I put my coat over her shoulders. She just looked at me and smiled. Oh God, I can’t forget that look in her eyes.”

Even after I am gone, these memories will remain. Over whisky and cigarettes, perhaps, my friends will recall those moments when I told them these stories. Then a time will come when these memories will not belong to me. They will become a part of my friends’ life.

And then they might require those sleeping pills.

Of course, some memories one doesn’t share. They become a part of your bone and flesh. They just lie there, within you, breathing when you breathe. They form patterns when you are not thinking of them, and when you do, they appear, revealing a new aspect every time. Say, for instance, there is a memory of a beautiful foot. Years later, when you think of it, new details emerge. Like a toe ring you had never remembered so far. Or that droplet of sweat on the instep. Or the artistry of the spot where the foot merged with the ankle.

You keep these memories to yourself. They form roots within you. After you have popped those pills, they don’t remain alive among your friends. They become stars.

And then, one day, the heat recedes. They fall on the ground. Ashes. Some day a mad man smears them on his body. He falls. He gets up. He sings. He remembers that foot.

Memories, they don’t go away. They just change form. They always come back.

19 comments:

Karan said...

You couldn't have said this better. No one can. Just fabulous, Rahul. Most of my memories have become a part of my flesh and bones cause the people I have met don't seem to understand those emotions anymore. Those beautiful moments you describe seem to hold no meaning in todays world. Forgive me for being so cynical, this is just based on personal experience. Your words are the light that permeates my dark existence and fills me with emotion.

Shrutii said...

The gates of memory never closes! for somebody about someone..

Nikhil Srivastava said...

Very true..memories..I feel nostalgic. It's really beautiful, just fabulous, Rahul Sir. Sometimes, I think the same that u can't erase memories, not even ur buddies.

skiradz said...

read your post after quite some time Rahul and it was actually what i wanted to hear today......luv Radz

shabda said...

hi.
y cant you live in the present.
i know,i'm an odd one out here:)
like a fly in a group of elephants.
even then,
dont you feel bored being sad.
y cant u enjoy life as it is.
u always speak like carrying
all the sorrows of humanity.
for a change,
write a happy blog,man.
happiness is a conscious choice
n not an automatic response.
try pl.

Anonymous said...

A poem for memories...

Reading Sartre to a Pear Tree

When I was pruning a dead limb
from a dying pear tree, I thought
for some reason of a line from Sartre:
We must act out passion before we can feel it.
Though my favorite line has always been:
I confused things with their names: that is belief.
And the impatient sound the rain
was making on the stone steps—
the great embellishment as monologue
or messenger or megaphone—made me think
next of a quote from Rilke spilling and chastising
from the page: I won’t endure these half-filled
human masks. So do we mourn the pear
that never was by imagining Eve’s teeth marks
pressing into the white fruit? Or do we quote
a few last lines in the rain to a severed limb
and then toss it in the buttonbushes?


by Doug Ramspeck

from Brick & Mortar Review


from Sourabh

crazy devil said...

Nice Blog Yar..Liked it :)

Parag said...

Rahul, I got introduced by a close friend. This is amazing. It just released me off something that I have been holding on to for a long time. Yet I dont feel free of it, cos these are memories and they will stay with me, make me smile, cry or haunt me. Thank you so much.

Rahul said...

Hi Parag, thanks. Just curious, who is this close friend?

Parag said...

Karan. We share a lot of commonalities (if there's a word like that).

Memories, these were made for a reason. And there are some pills made to erase them - also for a reason. I am somehow comfortable with this balance although I live in imbalance...

Parag said...

What I crave for - and have also experienced sometime ago - is the neutral state - the balanced state. Why is happiness the most sought after emotion? ANd in the process creates as much sorrow. Why and how can we be a 'musaffir' observing the play of life and yet remain untouched. The kind of role memories play in all these... I think you have moulded the words to what I was feeling and hence the need to comment. Thank you once again. Stay in touch.

Reflectionz! said...

i dinno my war-reporter teacher told fairy talez ;)

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RICHA. said...

"Of course, some memories one doesn’t share. They become a part of your bone and flesh. They just lie there, within you, breathing when you breathe. They form patterns when you are not thinking of them, and when you do, they appear, revealing a new aspect every time.'
LOVE THESE LINES, RAHUL

Urvashi goja said...

jala hai jism jahan dil bhi jal gaya hoga....kuredtey ho aagar rakh justuju kai hai......Rahul ???