Remembering to Forget
Sunday 11 January 2015 by Meghna Pandey
My blog now bears an uncanny resemblance to Aamir Khan's
filmography. Unfortunately for me, my resolve to write more often, pricks my
conscience only during the holiday season (American company time-off) and like
every year, as I reminisce about the time gone by, it's only nostalgia that
helps with the inertia. Ironically, this time around, Eternal sunshine of the
spotless mind was the movie I chose to revisit some long buried memory lanes. I
still remember how this movie intrigued me and why! However, it’s been a long
stretch since, and while it still remains one of my favorites, my fascination
for it has, over time, normalized. Having said that, the lines from the original
poem still mesmerize.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
And with that, I couldn’t help but think about what it would be
like to not have memories or to be able to make them at will. Does that keep
the sanctity of my sanity or destroy it? Don’t memories sometimes drive you
crazy? Doesn’t losing them? And while I keep my white and dark angels at that,
here is something I wrote to keep my blog’s run rate going.
There by the dying light,
Where the skies race to infinity,
The sea is calm or so the deceit,
It's there I know, that our worlds will meet.
So, from horizon to another,
I walk on for countless snows and springs,
Forgetting to remember the day as it is
Still yearning for the eternal dream.
But the sunset today is a shade less dim,
And winter too has shed its last whim,
To that I wonder, if eternity is but akin,
An endless spin from end to begin.
Now the breaking light too beckons,
To follow not but omit, the past within.
But I trudge along wondering,
What remembering to forget would mean
I walk on for countless snows and springs,
Forgetting to remember the day as it is
Still yearning for the eternal dream.
But the sunset today is a shade less dim,
And winter too has shed its last whim,
To that I wonder, if eternity is but akin,
An endless spin from end to begin.
Now the breaking light too beckons,
To follow not but omit, the past within.
But I trudge along wondering,
What remembering to forget would mean
You write beautifully! You must must get it published