Do you remember your first fountain pen? Or your favorite one? That feeling of being old enough to own a pen. Moving on from Nataraj & Faber Castell. Truly jumping into the world of words.
That was a time when paper did not come cheap. Blank papers from old notebooks became new notebook – Rough Copy 🙂 This copy had papers of all shapes and sizes. All colors and tints. Square boxes of maths notebook. And three lines of Literature notebook. A souvenir, a gift, from last year to this – jumbled up, yet so simple.
All the thoughts in my head. And all the thoughts in yours. Will be ink one day. And paper and pen. And then, at last, I will write us a poem. And a love song, maybe.
Sometimes my mind is like a dangerous storm. And my heart is thrown away in all directions. I need to look beyond the eye of this storm. I need to write it all down. I need my pen – The one that is lost now.
A good memory is like a gush of fresh air that feels smooth and pleasant against your skin, completely engulfs you in a blanket of thoughts and you find yourself smiling at the very touch of it.
But when a bad memory visits you, it doesn’t visit you alone. It brings with it all the interconnected memories that creep up your mind and pull you down. You keep trying to escape from this quicksand, but the more you move, the more you inch towards drowning.
What is it about bad memories that make them so powerful? I had been thinking a lot about this. Opening my arms and mind to all the memories that visit me – Experiencing them, studying them. Can we cut emotions out of these visits? Can I invoke my emotions when a happy memory visits, while behaving like a spectator sitting in a farm house, watching cars running across the newly built highway when it’s turning for a bad memory.
When I say ‘good’ or ‘bad’, it’s all about perspective. A memory which could have been haunting you some time back, suddenly transforms into something good, which you embrace whole-heartedly. Thereby meaning that memory in itself is not good or bad. It is just a reminiscence of a time gone by, child of random circumstances. It is not real. A ghost from the past which has settled in your subconscious and refuses to budge. It is how we decide to face these memories when they momentarily jump to your conscious, that makes them good or bad.