I have a funny problem now. I can't remember things all too well anymore. I am a 43 year old SAHM, Stay At Home Mom for the uninitiated. Now, pregnancy and delivery brings about memory loss of a peculiar kind. You can't remember the life when the little imp wasn't around. It's all a blur like a movie you watched ages ago. You sort of know the plot, remember snatches of scenes here and there - a dance in the rain, some friends who hung out together and had a lot of fun, puppy love and crushes, the hero (your husband) gets the heroine (you) after some effort and there is a haze of a certain date when a lot of people of milled around you, thrust some gifts in your hand and posed for pictures. You remember the lights dimming after that with tantalizing hints of a sequel. Your mind is still in that haze.
There is a memory loss which is initiated by listening to lungfuls of cries from an alien you have no idea how to communicate with. From sleeping in snatches of minutes but waking up in terror thinking it has been hours and the thing lying next to you may not even be breathing. From fussing over every little runny nose and runnier crap (pun intended). From breaking your head over how to make that thing open its mouth to eat but shut it tight instead of screaming wantonly, when all you need is deathly silence and peace.
But I am not talking about that. This is strange. I can't remember when this started. Suddenly, I couldn't remember the name of the gynaecologist who delivered my child. Actually there were 2, but this was the nicer one. It was her voice that announced the magical words which changed my life, "Congratulations, you have a boy!" That voice woke me up from drug induced deep sleep. That hand held mine while I writhed in pain as the anesthesia wore off. She with that long hair, a smile permanently etched on her face, kindness in her voice and demeanor and yet, 2 years and 7 months later, I couldn't remember her name. I focused on my memory of her face for 3 whole days, agonizing on how I could forget her before the name came back to me. Dr. Soumya Balakrishnan. This was just the beginning.
Then, Sakthi and I talked about a restaurant we used to go to often, the food was average but we went simply because it was convenient. My maid used to work there too. I tried remembering the name. It wouldn't come. I could recall scenes of me eating there, with and without my child and my bland reaction to the uninspired food served. I remembered the orange, rectangular signage but the words were missing - they seemed to have been wiped out. I spent 2 full hours, my mind focused singularly on unraveling this mystery and then voila, I knew. It was Mast Kalandar.
A few days later, I ran down to the shop in the basement of our apartment complex to buy a packet of dal (lentils) and a bunch of bananas. The bill came to, I think 185 rupees. I handed over a 500 rupee note. The store clerk handed me the change - a bunch of notes. I kept staring, I couldn't figure out if I had been handed the right change. I tried calculating but it just wouldn't come to me. 5 minutes or later, I had to ask, although in a authoritative tone to hide my own momentary incompetence, if I had been given the right change, I was assured I was and I left in haste.
Some days after, my boy had just been washed and he stood there in all his nude glory. I noticed a black spot on his butt. I had seen that several times before. I wanted to show his father and laugh at the strange spot for what could perhaps an identification mark. I called Sakthi and said, "Look at that." He asked, "What?" And, I kept staring because the word wouldn't come out of my mouth. I repeated, "That thing! What is the name for it?" Sakthi saw me agonizing and said, "It is called a mole." Hmm. Mole, in English. Macham in Tamizh. No strange tongue twister in either language. Yet, for 10 minutes, I stared at a bare bottom for no perverse reason but that I couldn't find a damned word.
These are just a few instances and would seem normal except that I always had a razor sharp memory. I would meet a long lost classmate at an airport lounge 18 years after I last bid goodbye. I would remember his name, his campus placement, his then girlfriend and mundane other details. Now, I couldn't remember the woman who got my child into this world. When I topped my class in French, my teacher asked me how I could do so well, I told her, that I remember everything as pictures and somehow, the picture of a oft-frequented restaurant was smudged. I topped my state in Mathematics in my 10th and I struggled in basic arithmetic to get change now. I formally learnt 5 languages, speak and understand a few more and still, I couldn't remember a word in the two dominant languages of my brain. Weird right?
This sparked visits to the neurologist, EEG, MRI, thyroid, blood tests and the works. Are you stressed? Are you depressed? Do you sleep well? Is there something you are not telling us? The questions came thick and fast. Yes, I am a bit bugged about not getting a job after a maternity break but not stressed. Yes, I had post postpartum depression but that got over more than 1.5 years ago. I don't sleep well, I never have. I have always been restless, I am a light sleeper and my brain ticks through the night too. Yes, I am not telling you that I know you think I am faking this. The doc says, "You are too young to get dementia or Alzheimer's. Take this pill and don't google about it. Take this for a month, sleep tight and come back." Of course, I googled and found out that it is an anti-depressant with its own crazy side effects. I have skipped it.
So, that's where I am now. With a mind that marches or halts at its will and me fighting a battle against it. If I spot you somewhere and don't recognize you, consider this. You are that jerk boss who made my work life miserable enough to make me quit, I am so totally forgetting you dude. You are that person who didn't value my friendship when I offered it on a platter to you. Just be glad I didn't block or report you for sending multiple friendship requests on Facebook. You are that ex-crush who broke my heart and even if you come crawling on all fours, you are not even a distant memory anymore. If you are that guy who tried molesting or harassing me on the streets, go rot in hell. For the real people who I value or vice versa, if I don't remember you or your birthday/anniversary/child's birthday/the day you got laid off or dumped, just please be kind. I am struggling to remember myself. I am not hiding behind my memory loss to rid you goodbye, not yet. Anyways, if you are smart and know me well enough, you will know whether I am faking it or not.
So, what next? Whatever I have forgotten in the recent past, I repeat it to myself several times, even in a single day, so at least I don't forget that thing anymore. I started doing crosswords 2 years back but now, I ensure I do one everyday, even if I am travelling, on vacation or sick or haven't done any other chores around the house. I need my mind alive. I have started blogging again so I pen down my thoughts before the words for them abandon me altogether. I give myself random quizzes (I used to be an active quizzer during my school days) to test my memory. I read more to check if I can remember what my eyes scan. I know I can beat this and I will. My mind is stronger than my body and always has been. This is just one more in the journey.
There is a memory loss which is initiated by listening to lungfuls of cries from an alien you have no idea how to communicate with. From sleeping in snatches of minutes but waking up in terror thinking it has been hours and the thing lying next to you may not even be breathing. From fussing over every little runny nose and runnier crap (pun intended). From breaking your head over how to make that thing open its mouth to eat but shut it tight instead of screaming wantonly, when all you need is deathly silence and peace.
But I am not talking about that. This is strange. I can't remember when this started. Suddenly, I couldn't remember the name of the gynaecologist who delivered my child. Actually there were 2, but this was the nicer one. It was her voice that announced the magical words which changed my life, "Congratulations, you have a boy!" That voice woke me up from drug induced deep sleep. That hand held mine while I writhed in pain as the anesthesia wore off. She with that long hair, a smile permanently etched on her face, kindness in her voice and demeanor and yet, 2 years and 7 months later, I couldn't remember her name. I focused on my memory of her face for 3 whole days, agonizing on how I could forget her before the name came back to me. Dr. Soumya Balakrishnan. This was just the beginning.
Then, Sakthi and I talked about a restaurant we used to go to often, the food was average but we went simply because it was convenient. My maid used to work there too. I tried remembering the name. It wouldn't come. I could recall scenes of me eating there, with and without my child and my bland reaction to the uninspired food served. I remembered the orange, rectangular signage but the words were missing - they seemed to have been wiped out. I spent 2 full hours, my mind focused singularly on unraveling this mystery and then voila, I knew. It was Mast Kalandar.
A few days later, I ran down to the shop in the basement of our apartment complex to buy a packet of dal (lentils) and a bunch of bananas. The bill came to, I think 185 rupees. I handed over a 500 rupee note. The store clerk handed me the change - a bunch of notes. I kept staring, I couldn't figure out if I had been handed the right change. I tried calculating but it just wouldn't come to me. 5 minutes or later, I had to ask, although in a authoritative tone to hide my own momentary incompetence, if I had been given the right change, I was assured I was and I left in haste.
Some days after, my boy had just been washed and he stood there in all his nude glory. I noticed a black spot on his butt. I had seen that several times before. I wanted to show his father and laugh at the strange spot for what could perhaps an identification mark. I called Sakthi and said, "Look at that." He asked, "What?" And, I kept staring because the word wouldn't come out of my mouth. I repeated, "That thing! What is the name for it?" Sakthi saw me agonizing and said, "It is called a mole." Hmm. Mole, in English. Macham in Tamizh. No strange tongue twister in either language. Yet, for 10 minutes, I stared at a bare bottom for no perverse reason but that I couldn't find a damned word.
These are just a few instances and would seem normal except that I always had a razor sharp memory. I would meet a long lost classmate at an airport lounge 18 years after I last bid goodbye. I would remember his name, his campus placement, his then girlfriend and mundane other details. Now, I couldn't remember the woman who got my child into this world. When I topped my class in French, my teacher asked me how I could do so well, I told her, that I remember everything as pictures and somehow, the picture of a oft-frequented restaurant was smudged. I topped my state in Mathematics in my 10th and I struggled in basic arithmetic to get change now. I formally learnt 5 languages, speak and understand a few more and still, I couldn't remember a word in the two dominant languages of my brain. Weird right?
This sparked visits to the neurologist, EEG, MRI, thyroid, blood tests and the works. Are you stressed? Are you depressed? Do you sleep well? Is there something you are not telling us? The questions came thick and fast. Yes, I am a bit bugged about not getting a job after a maternity break but not stressed. Yes, I had post postpartum depression but that got over more than 1.5 years ago. I don't sleep well, I never have. I have always been restless, I am a light sleeper and my brain ticks through the night too. Yes, I am not telling you that I know you think I am faking this. The doc says, "You are too young to get dementia or Alzheimer's. Take this pill and don't google about it. Take this for a month, sleep tight and come back." Of course, I googled and found out that it is an anti-depressant with its own crazy side effects. I have skipped it.
So, that's where I am now. With a mind that marches or halts at its will and me fighting a battle against it. If I spot you somewhere and don't recognize you, consider this. You are that jerk boss who made my work life miserable enough to make me quit, I am so totally forgetting you dude. You are that person who didn't value my friendship when I offered it on a platter to you. Just be glad I didn't block or report you for sending multiple friendship requests on Facebook. You are that ex-crush who broke my heart and even if you come crawling on all fours, you are not even a distant memory anymore. If you are that guy who tried molesting or harassing me on the streets, go rot in hell. For the real people who I value or vice versa, if I don't remember you or your birthday/anniversary/child's birthday/the day you got laid off or dumped, just please be kind. I am struggling to remember myself. I am not hiding behind my memory loss to rid you goodbye, not yet. Anyways, if you are smart and know me well enough, you will know whether I am faking it or not.
So, what next? Whatever I have forgotten in the recent past, I repeat it to myself several times, even in a single day, so at least I don't forget that thing anymore. I started doing crosswords 2 years back but now, I ensure I do one everyday, even if I am travelling, on vacation or sick or haven't done any other chores around the house. I need my mind alive. I have started blogging again so I pen down my thoughts before the words for them abandon me altogether. I give myself random quizzes (I used to be an active quizzer during my school days) to test my memory. I read more to check if I can remember what my eyes scan. I know I can beat this and I will. My mind is stronger than my body and always has been. This is just one more in the journey.
