The sky is overcast and so is inside with clouds of different kind with all the possibility of rain, too.
Its quite un-understandable why we cling on to the memories of days gone by, never ever living really in present only, hardly ever able to forget the dates, events of joys or more often of grief and sorrow. So much so that the shadows of such dates are cast before and sometimes we dread and sometimes we plain let go the trail of events of the distant past as a film vivid, crystal clear and get ourselves in the mould that generally steals all words, speech. Silence envelops and we haplessly watch ourselves indulge in the luxury of brooding.
For sure, 'missing' has great ability to slow us down, stop us like a treadmill coming to emergency halt with power failure; missing someone snatches precious today and its treasurable moments and forces us to live, re-live what we belonged to or long for the time we can never be sure about; missing bogs us down, douses the spirit to carry on, eclipses our own resilience and still we miss. There is no way we can deny that past and future are integral part of our very being as anything or any person.
Why don't we have a child like memory that does not allow him to remember beyond a split second what transpired, how it made him cry; easeful forgetfulness of a child evades us, the grown ups. Is this the price we pay for growing?
The fading memory of the elders is something not easily palatable to themselves or to people around as sometimes (as in dementia) their concentration gets fixed on any point of time in childhood, youth and they live the same moments over and over again much to chagrin of the listeners who are hardly endowed with patience with which the old people love narrating.
There is a 'calendar' in all of us with circles, asterisks, scribbles all intact and unwittingly we renew it year by year-such colossal memory which can beat all i -pads and i- pods, cards and hard discs !
Sometimes we miss with stoic acceptance; it does not make things any easier. But when we miss without a hope- near or distant- it’s hard, indeed.
The tiny droplets have started trickling down. Oh! It’s raining.
Its quite un-understandable why we cling on to the memories of days gone by, never ever living really in present only, hardly ever able to forget the dates, events of joys or more often of grief and sorrow. So much so that the shadows of such dates are cast before and sometimes we dread and sometimes we plain let go the trail of events of the distant past as a film vivid, crystal clear and get ourselves in the mould that generally steals all words, speech. Silence envelops and we haplessly watch ourselves indulge in the luxury of brooding.
For sure, 'missing' has great ability to slow us down, stop us like a treadmill coming to emergency halt with power failure; missing someone snatches precious today and its treasurable moments and forces us to live, re-live what we belonged to or long for the time we can never be sure about; missing bogs us down, douses the spirit to carry on, eclipses our own resilience and still we miss. There is no way we can deny that past and future are integral part of our very being as anything or any person.
Why don't we have a child like memory that does not allow him to remember beyond a split second what transpired, how it made him cry; easeful forgetfulness of a child evades us, the grown ups. Is this the price we pay for growing?
The fading memory of the elders is something not easily palatable to themselves or to people around as sometimes (as in dementia) their concentration gets fixed on any point of time in childhood, youth and they live the same moments over and over again much to chagrin of the listeners who are hardly endowed with patience with which the old people love narrating.
There is a 'calendar' in all of us with circles, asterisks, scribbles all intact and unwittingly we renew it year by year-such colossal memory which can beat all i -pads and i- pods, cards and hard discs !
Sometimes we miss with stoic acceptance; it does not make things any easier. But when we miss without a hope- near or distant- it’s hard, indeed.
The tiny droplets have started trickling down. Oh! It’s raining.
let it rain for a while if the parched inside needs watering. why shouldnt sweet memories keep it moist and you smiling ?
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