Freedom from Backspace. for now.
|A picture I took sometime back. In 2011 for sure, month fails me|
I remember reading years ago Pride and Prejudice. It stayed on to be in my top 10 favourite books list for years to come, ten years on... But I still remember that feeling when I picked it up for the first time.
And then there was the other book I read. It had something about all happy families being similar to each other, but all sad ones being unhappy in their own ways.
Oh wait, why did I type that. Makes no connection, no sense. And yet I let it remain. Today I let broken chains of thought flow. Today I do not press the 'backspace' button. I type this warily, unwilling to make mistakes. And I realise, there is no fun in that. There is some fun to be had in living in reckless abandon. Some pleasure in doing all the things we bump into in the insides of our head. And then having the crucial backspace or delete button in our lives or rather keyboard. How I sometimes wish I had them in life as well, delete or backspace out uncomfortable memories. But then, would life be as beautifully doomed then.
If I pick out individual chapters of my life I realise to my ire, that I do not remember them in continuation. One conversation here, one conversation there. None connected. None making sense. Going down memory lane is becoming rather a bumpy ride, with black holes and voids. Becoming more and more nonsense as more memories empty itself in my head.
I am rather an epitome of irony. I do not like people forgetting me, and yet I forget them in bunches. Impatient, Always running, flipping the pages quickly to reach more eventful bits. But hold on, is it true about the forgetting in bunches. Finger reaches out tempted by backspace, but no, not today. I do not know why I said that. For though its true I am rather picky about the faces I choose to remember, pop a name to my ears and like a Google search, a series of thoughts pop up in my head. Some searches, it is true happens unbelievably fast. Press search, and I can literally chant happenings by memory, remember even the clothes they wore in certain occasions, remember the things I thought as I was talking to them. Some unbelievably slow. These are the people who failed to impact my life, who failed to change my 'life as I know it'. I remember them, but ask me minor details and I draw a blank.
|here too. 2011|
I wonder which chapters or sentences of mine they would have liked. Wonder...