Tuesday, May 27, 2014


Memory is unbidden, i often find. Sometimes its visitations are unsolicited. I found myself, many times, being capriciously suffused with memories i had neither any control over nor could control. Associations, though pouring in a cavalcade do reveal, after some analysis, a certain causality, a limited understanding of the nature of their deluge. Memories, on the other hand, are more imperceptible, insinuating themselves when least expected and when one tries, with a modicum of self belief, to unravel them, they evade grasp, elude.

On many occasions i ruminated on the ontology of memory, as to why it was so evanescent yet so persistent. Though the memory that came unasked for lay beyond any rational means of understanding their emotional impact, the suffusion of the mind with powerful feelings, became all the more piquant. Memory made indentations on experience, dappling it, enriching it so that with each recollection the indents were lodged deeper, their impact more durable, all the more so because each time i remembered i remembered differently. The constituents were more or less the same but the context changed. Like a cubist painting the same memory was seen from all angles, revisited with each renewed contingent and the insight it yielded, not simply about the iridescence of consciousness but about the complex conundrum of memory itself, was illuminating.

When i think of memories i think of the sea. Memories are like waves. In fact i like to believe there is a realm in our consciousness where meta memory reposes.In it lie a compendium of memories, huddled indeterminately yet causally. As the wave advances so does a memory. As a wave ebbs so does memory. Yet the unceasing advancing and retracting leaves behind sediments and  a subtle and hitherto unforeseen metamorphosis occurs, in the nature of our perception, in the way we apprehend reality . The cycle of memory, their concatenation is a wreath of remembrances which have, like arabesques in a mosaic, a specific temporality but which, as is characteristic in a mosaic, depend on each other's existence, are interleaved to each other for a full variegation to exist.

Some of the things i remember have been agreeable, others i have wished to expunge, even obliterate from my mind. The conscious mind, like a searchlight, sifts through the memories to find a structure, an underlying architectonic. Over the integument of consciousness, the unconscious exercises its jurisdiction through randomness and nebulosity. The memory, however, whether wrenched or materialized startlingly has an inviolable being. All i do, in the process of  alternating  exegetical experiencing, is to commemorate ,in a garland of the precariousness of phenomena, these studded memories which irradiate and affirm the limits of knowing and the apotheosis of transcending. 

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