When you forget..

Absent-mindedness is a quality often associated with frivolity, lack of seriousness, irresponsibility and at times, even lethargy. I have come across many a person who would couple it with refractoriness. Let me assure you, however, that absent-mindedness is none of these. It is but a quality that exists in people who enjoy life, who want to live it to the fullest and would not want to waste themselves in the tiny mechanical details of it. I know this remark raises eyebrows, but think about it; what does one achieve by remembering to take his umbrella when going out, or not forgetting to pack his toothbrush to a camp? Nothing, I must say. If anything, one would lose the joys of getting wet in the rain and the fun of cleaning your teeth with the twig. Also, the pain of having to remember things is much greater than what one is subject to when something is forgotten.

I speak in favor of this unfavorable quality because not many of the people who know me would refrain from categorizing me as someone who is prone to forgetting. Stuff ranging from lunch-boxes to pencil erasers in school and umbrellas to handkerchiefs later have gone missing from my life owing to what people would call a wretched habit. I was, I must admit, ashamed of this habit too. To me, it made me different, and somehow little mishaps occurred more with me than they happened to the careful lot. So it had to be me who would not be able to remember her ATM pin and would want to store it in a hidden, password protected location of her cell phone. And some opportune moment of some opportune day, the cell phone would go bust, so it was I who would now be a pauper without money and of course I now had no cell phone to make calls either. Somehow, my library book would be found in the cafeteria and I'd have to shell out 25 bucks to get it back. It was too much, not to forget the fact that I was easily the laughing stock among my friends. And then, I had had it. I decided to do something about my dis-ease. I decided to decide not to forget my decision of deciding to remember things.

And what did I do? I subjected myself to the power of the "memory tools". I began to keep track of what I kept where in a tiny diary. But, oh no, I am prone to forgetting; so I must maintain a backup of this diary somewhere. I copied down all the important numbers, credit card accounts from this tiny dairy into a bigger dairy and locked this big dairy up in my trunk and the key to that trunk in another one. Phew. For my travel, I now took out at least three copies of my tickets. One in my trouser pocket. One in the hand purse. One in my travel bag. I designated a place for everything in my life. The keys go here, my employee card there; My watch stays here and my wallet right beneath it. All in all, I became a part of a map, and followed the directions it gave me, relentlessly and tirelessly until my erstwhile free mind gave up. It was now trained to do what it was trained to do. Nothing could annihilate its new sequence. Now I step out of home and my Mind says to me, "Changed into office shoes. Checked-OK(I've gone out with flip-flops once, so this was added). Shower cap removed. Checked-OK(this doesn't need to be explained, does it?). Watch on left hand, checked-OK. Keys in the hand-purse, checked-OK. Employee card dangling on your neck, check-OK. )". Thus began a life of no mistakes, no follies. Of boredom, monotony and tedium; Of mechanism and contrivance. And suddenly, there was a hiatus.

(To Be Continued.. )