There is no age as such from where the mind doesn’t return to memories,
knowingly/ unknowingly. And there’s no eraser which can delete any
memory as per your convenience. She was scanning her past. This time
deliberately. There her attention got stuck. Blocked by the special
memory, which if written on paper, would consume whole life. And if
painted can never be finished till the last breath. It was the memory that
was like a ever fresh flower kept on the oval table of experience in a big
empty room. It was matchless. It had healing power but was incurable.
Its dominance was so strong that sometimes it would cover her whole
soul. It at times resembled with her heart. This time she was making a
hurtful attempt. Plucking such memory from the lawn of life would end
the misery. She thought. She succeeded. She felt so. Suddenly lawn
turned into a desert. Everything became too hot. Unbearable ! She felt
burning sensation. She shouted. Cried too. Her scars appeared. She
started stitching them. Blood was all over her body. Bloody desert.
Terrified and agonised, she ran back towards the memories. She ran fast,
very fast. State of breathlessness was giving heart ache. There came a
turn, she couldn’t lower speed. She lost the balance and fell down. Lying
motionless for few seconds with eyes closed. A special kind of fragrance
engulfed her. She opened her eyes and to her surprise, she found the
same memory, intact and fresh like those fresh roses, which had no
chance to lose freshness in any case. She had failed to eliminate the
memory. She had slipped into post elimination idea. That was just a
thought – what it mean to survive without this particular memory. She
was feeling now relaxed and a strange kind of peaceful silence. Mother !
Her kid lying near by started weeping. She woke up. It was past
midnight. She feeded the hungry kid. Kid slept after a while. She
murmured something. To whom she was addressing. She closed her eyes
and before going into deep sleep she uttered – your memory is fresh rose
!
