I left a vibrant road behind. A road which was not the one like I had been travelling on my whole life. But it made me feel happy. I enjoyed every bit of it and it made every bit of my journey memorable. None of it will ever be enough for me to go beyond it. I shall savour every bit of that and I shall preserve the memories as long as I can. The memories are beautiful.
Imagine a few decades down the line, maybe I am not so happy as I ought to be. Maybe I did not make it up the way I wanted or dreamt of it to be. Even then, when everything around will cease to exist and relations will start getting stale, I will still have the memories afresh. That is the best part with beautiful memories. They might cease to exist on your face, but in the mind they are always fresh. Fresh as a living flower. Warm as the mother’s hug. Beautiful as your lovers eyes. It is always fresh.
But there is another thing I fear of. What if at that point in time, I am unable to bring back the memories from inside my head? What if the retrieval is impossible? What if, the memories are lost inside the head somewhere, like a needle in haystack? It would be the most unfortunate incident and the most cruel nature can get with someone. To lose your memories at some point in time, is a sheer misfortune.
Alzheimer’s, a dream which has been, since long, a persistent dream I see. It scares me because for me, there is nothing more furious than forgetting things or memories which I am so relentlessly savoring for the solitary future. I often see myself as surrounded by people who are trying to communicate to me and myself not remembering anyone or anything, just see a visible bunch of weird, unknown faces trying to look at me and smile.
I always wondered how it would be like for a real person with Alzheimer’s. But I guess, from the way I have been feeling in the dreams, it might be similar to the state in which you are woken up from mid-sleep. The first few seconds after you wake up, that is how it feels. When you see something and then you have little or none reactions to the objects around. The mind basically does not recall the values or the virtues related to the same objects which earlier held values for you.
I fear what would happen if the roads I left in the far past, come across and I fail to recognize. All the years of careful handling of the memories will go in vain and all that will be left, will be a dry, empty brain – devoid of evocation.
Always Ranting, Rantzaada.
The 11 o' clock diary 