Lasts are beautiful, but they don't come with any preconceived information. You don't exactly know that you are with that person for the last time together to feel the pangs later. But, are lasts exactly lasts?, for there is always a probability to reconnect with people at points of time. As long as we hold memories, there ain't any loss. Association leads to disassociations but people remain etched in our memory like the mellowed autumn fragrance that lingers in the wind.
We constantly come across people, some become special, some stay as strangers. It's not that we connect with everyone and even when we do sometimes mid way things take twist and turns and disrupt equations. But do we stop communicating? Is that reason enough is what I ask myself. People who made our life beautiful in some point of time walk the dusty lanes of our memory. In memory we keep them alive. The robust smell of an evening cup of coffee reminds me of the kind Anna who offered me steaming coffee during my visit to Southern India. The smell of Shiulis remind me of those days when I used to gather them handfuls to adorn my grandma's plaited hair, the smell of greasy boroline still reminds me of my grandma's cracked hands which she carefully massaged with boroline each night.
Life in short is filled with memories. I was talking to my friend this morning which triggered in me about the role that memory plays, memory is about permanence. While people would change, memory would be unfaltering. At the end what we all seek is permanence amidst life's transitoriness. Each one of us seek the assurance that nothing unusual would replace the usual. But life surprises us when we least expect it. As long as we hold onto memories, nothing can be counted as loss. For even lasts are not lasts, they always follow another last.
We constantly come across people, some become special, some stay as strangers. It's not that we connect with everyone and even when we do sometimes mid way things take twist and turns and disrupt equations. But do we stop communicating? Is that reason enough is what I ask myself. People who made our life beautiful in some point of time walk the dusty lanes of our memory. In memory we keep them alive. The robust smell of an evening cup of coffee reminds me of the kind Anna who offered me steaming coffee during my visit to Southern India. The smell of Shiulis remind me of those days when I used to gather them handfuls to adorn my grandma's plaited hair, the smell of greasy boroline still reminds me of my grandma's cracked hands which she carefully massaged with boroline each night.
Life in short is filled with memories. I was talking to my friend this morning which triggered in me about the role that memory plays, memory is about permanence. While people would change, memory would be unfaltering. At the end what we all seek is permanence amidst life's transitoriness. Each one of us seek the assurance that nothing unusual would replace the usual. But life surprises us when we least expect it. As long as we hold onto memories, nothing can be counted as loss. For even lasts are not lasts, they always follow another last.
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