The memory of a memory
Imagine spending two hours with a stranger, thinking that he reminds you vaguely of someone. Imagine talking, laughing, listening, joking, opining, conversing wondering all the while whether it feels familiar only because you’ve just done this way too many times with way too many people. Imagine feeling like you know so little about someone you call a friend and you feel like there’s nothing more you need to know about someone you’ve just met. Imagine having dinner with Nostalgia and realising suddenly over dessert whose face its wearing.
It’s him. The last memory of him has him in a green shirt. The spectacles are exactly the same as is the square-cut face. It isn’t exactly him though, since he was last seen years ago. So this is him, older, nicer, easier to be with. Him, nevertheless. But no…this is someone else, a perfect stranger.
Odd it took so long to figure that out though. Really, really odd that someone who feels like he’s embedded deep inside, one with your cells…is so hard to recognise in the face of another. I guess even memories like over-thumbed bits of paper crumble after awhile and all you have left is the vague recollection of something that used to occupy that place…sort of like a stray brown scrap of paper that’s floated off after the original has disintegrated. The memory of a memory.
Then you find yourself miles away from that once-so-familiar picture. Not only are you not part of the picture anymore but it doesn’t exist even without you. It doesn’t exist because it is without you. And here you are now, in a world new enough to be interesting, familiar enough to be comfortable..enough. And you’re having dinner with a stranger, not with your past.
Goodbye love, I never thought I’d say it this way.
Jennifer on 
Anu on 
Lemony on 
Prolific Dyslexic on 
1apasserby
wrote on 17 July 2007 at 19:14
Isn’t it unfair, comparing two,
One as deep as your mind,
The other just a fragrance,
The weather is windy, but the climate remains warm,
Let time sort things, and not with the fresh gush of wind.
Feeling something is very true,
So was what you felt years ago.
The answer to what is best,
Is not what you have said,
But when all are gone, is when the answer comes along.
I trust not your words,
Give me time, and then I will agree,
Or maybe as we go,
You may speak again.
Give me time, to say you are right
2DC
wrote on 18 July 2007 at 21:18
Oh that was sad. Why is it that anguish and sadness make for such good blog posts…
3desperado
wrote on 19 July 2007 at 9:57
phir usii raah_guzar par shaayad
ham kabhii mil sake.n magar shaayad
jaan pahachaan se kyaa hogaa
phir bhi ai dost Gaur kar shaayad
muntazir jin ke ham rahe unko
mil gaye aur ham_safar shaayad
jo bhii bichha.De hai.n kab mile hai.n ‘Faraz’
phir bhii tuu intazaar kar shaayad
~~~~ Ahmed Faraz
4Grey Shades
wrote on 19 July 2007 at 12:52
yeah and its the residue that makes me so restless and uneasy….
5Ashish
wrote on 19 July 2007 at 14:04
Reminds me of great poem,
“Jeewan mein ek sitara tha, maana wah behad pyaara tha,
Woh doob gaya toh doob gaya..
Ambar ke anan ko dekho, kitne iske taare choote,
Kitne iske pyaare choote, jo choot gaye phir kahan mile…
Par bolo toote taron ka, kab ambar shok manata hai….”
-HVRB
6Hasina Suliman
wrote on 13 January 2010 at 19:20
this sounds like a scene from my life….
very well written
7IdeaSmith
wrote on 23 January 2010 at 19:50
@Hasina:
Thengyu