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On forgetfulness

imageI forgot what this is about. Oh, it is about forgetfulness!
‘Forgetfulness is one of the ‘curses’ of old age’
Do you agree? No, I don’t . It is in fact, a gift from the God. Many times, it is a boon to forget some past happenings in life, which otherwise will be tormenting us.
The wounds on our body often heals but not the ones acquired by or inflicted on our heart. Imagine the agony of all those wounds, acquired throughout the past remaing unhealed! It is boon that we are able to dump such wounds, at least some of them into the depth of forgetfulness.
At times, I wish, that my memory sleeps even on some recent unpleasant events.
Now I don’t say, ‘Che, maranthu potchu- sorry, I forgot!’ Nothing to be sorry about it- ( in some cases at least)
The fun is while young, we forget to eat in time, due to busy work, but in old age, we don’t forget to eat or sleep. Thank God for that. But we do forget many past events in our life. Thank God for that too.
Here is a poem on Forgetfulness by BILLY COLLINS from the web.
‘The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart’
Billy Collins

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