Stashing memories

There are memories and there are memories. I take pride in my capability to remember a good chunk of my past. My family and friends heavily rely on me to recollect names and incidents hidden in moth laden almirahs and dilapidated suitcases. But as I look back, I realize that the sets of memories I have can be broadly classified into two categories - there are certain memories that I rehearse, and there are those memories which I live with…

Let me elaborate a bit. The first category- the rehearsed one – goes something like this. Hundreds of things happened to me over the last couple of days. The second bite of my sandwich, the red light near the hospital where I earlier worked, the new dress which my colleague lovingly gifted me.....It will so happen that tomorrow, I will remember almost none of them. And the concept that I would remember something that happened to me when I was twelve is ludicrous. What actually happens with this set of memories is this; after it (whatever that thing I ‘select’ to remember) happened, I start telling myself a story about that event. I begin to develop a narrative about this turning point, about the relationship with my colleague or with the road or with my car. Yes, I may do this ‘narration’ with a bit more sincerity – after all, lots of people have had similar experiences, but none of them are telling themselves quite the same story about it as I do. And over time, the story is rehearsed. Over time, the story becomes completely different from what a videotape would show us, but it doesn't matter, because the rehearsed story is far more vivid than the video ever could be. And so the story becomes my memory, the story gets rehearsed ever more, and the story becomes the thing I tell myself and to all those who glorify nostalgia. I know that my narrative determines what the memory will become.

But at the risk of sounding biased, I admit that it is the second category of memories that I favour. I do not need to ‘recollect and stash” these memories. Let me give a few examples. I know that summer is fading when the krishnachura leaves starts to litter the lawns of the beautiful homes in my city and the morning air began to tickle a bit. Evening smells of fragrant erasers and sharpened pencils, durga puja time has this strange yet familiar premonition in the air, and winters bring in the fragrance of wood smoke. Winters also taste of chocolate cakes and coffee, and home-made laalmohan topped with sugar syrup. Funnily, some of my best (and worst) memories of the second category are associated with a few people in particular. Making this narration a bit intriguing, let me call one such person “Rumball”.. When I think of Rumball, my mind drifts to an old-fashioned wooden chair where an old grandma sits wearing a pair of white mekhela sador with a dark blue border. Rumball transcends me to a time when frustration was shown by breaking pencils, when a lovingly prepared cup of tea tasted like nectar, when cousins stealthily made phone calls to suspected “girlfriends”, when red-green colour blindness was an issue to reckon with….I realize that even when I way away from my home, I habitually thought of Rumball when things were not going well in my life..Yes, Rumball might be metaphysical, a caricature of my ideal imagination…

Then there are 'things' that bring back a flood of memories..A masculine watch reminds me of my father (and his HMT watch), ambassador car is synonymous with my annual trips to visit cousins....

Any narration on memories will be incomplete without the memory of our first love (without any doubt, I put this one in the second category). Get hold of anyone in an honest moment, and they will tell you that their first love was unforgettable. No matter at what stage of life you are in, that familiar song playing on the television, the small puddle of muddy water that you crossed holding his/her hand or memories from that perfect evening, many moons ago, when you were still in your teens can still catch you just unaware. Like most firsts, it will hold a place in your personal history. But there is also a flip side to this - those people, who pine after their first love are probably doing so because they are unhappy about something in their current relationship but are afraid to confront it. That means when we are lonely or unsatisfied in a relationship, we tend to look back at our first love instead of dealing with whatever our current issue is. Sounds harsh, but I feel it is true to some extent. 

"Some live in moments...Some live in memories.."