I have observed it in private solitude and tried to get to the root of it - a kind of deja vu that doesn't disappear but drags along, lasts for more than half an hour. To get to the root of the seductive mystery you have to move retrograde. When I indulge in starting a long trek, I see a path, unreal and rarely trodden, but with vibes so powerful. It's like a thread that runs through beads of memories- sweet or sour, happy or forgettable, placed in near perfect chronology.
I don't agree with the established explanations in psychology books, that qualify modes of reminiscence as linear and retrograde. It might be explained via mathematical equations, perfect and solved. But man himself is imperfect, his attitude and approach are imperfect so memories have to be imperfect too.They do not always orient themselves in a nature which is chronological. It is us who place them one after the other so that in times of dire necessity, falling back might find us in a much welcome harmony. So when we reminisce, we do not loose objectivity and sanity.I find memories scattered randomly, and at times merged with each other to an extent, even recent and old ones.It is an irregular cluster of the ecent and the old that tells us that a continuous thread does run to our roots. And when one stops, leaving a half painted picture, it means you have chanced upon such a string which goes long back, not four weeks or months, or four years.
Memories stream by. One moves back and back, and it's a question that motivates you, something like those half-hearted silent nothings you mutter to yourself ending with a question-mark each time, once again.
If I was asked why 'once' 'again', I still don't know. I mean, I might come out with a signing off sentence, but I know that I am still ignorant about 'once', just as I am about 'again'. Still it makes sense if I plead ignorance putting 'once' and 'again' together, despite me being aware that it's not an answer. And I am weary now.
I've been living all alone since a long time. There used to be more signs of life around me then, and nothing ever suggested that a time like this might come. It helps you, keeps you motivated to look towards tomorrow with something in mind. I am not pondering over right or wrong, it's just looking back over the 'presents' and the 'absents'.
Why do I feel like putting up a response then? It just adds to a list of questions, and that doesn't do people like me any good - people who seem to be all over the place all the time and it is hard not to notice the jamboree and the elaborate vacuum that actually sounds so empty.
But that always makes a sound for you. It's a sound alright. It's the part of the real life. At times that sound tells me that I've taken a long time to accept a fact, and I have erred. All this while, I have been searching for an answer without understanding the question.
I realize that with time the question has changed into a fact of life somewhere out there, and I didn't notice when. It's not about answers as to why. The fact is - there won't be any answer ever for me, because the question has ceased to exist in its primal state, and so it is thus best to keep them where they are and move on.
As I have written -- once again.
I am a happy man now, eager to dream.... the dreams seem eager to be dreamt too.. And doesn't that make every single day my day? It does!
And my signature line, which Frank Sinatra crooned over a Sunday afternoon Phlips radio to a 7 year old me and gave me goose-bumps as i choked on "Wow, that's a dreaming croone!" whisper, shall not change. And I dream too, as I write - WHATEVER I DID, I DID IT MY WAY..
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