Memories

"Who are you?" asked the elderly Aditya. How does your world feel when everything around is alien? There is no grounding left for any element belonging to this environment you are in.

The question sent a shiver down his son's spine. He was bewildered to experience what it's like when someone you've known your entire life fails to even recognize you. 

"I am your son, Dad. Do you remember my name?" said a broken Ram. He had slowly built the courage that this day would come; however, nothing can prepare you for a simple question that snaps the reality of years of memories built together.

"Ohhh, I am trying hard to but ... it's ... all hazy." his father responded with a heavy heart. Do you start feeling guilty when everyone else in the world establishes a connection with you, but you seem to have them all untethered in your head? Does it become a simulation of life than living life itself, when something as trivial as recognition of the elements becomes a complex task? 

"No worries, I am Ram." he said, still reeling from what had happened. "Let's head down to the beach to look at the waves." he beckoned as both of them headed down. Being born daily, respawning from the same initial checkpoint, would be such a distant concept for humans? How do you trust any of the stories being told to you when you can't recollect experiencing them?

At the beach, both of them sat comfortably in their chairs, staring at the waves. Ram started recollecting how he was brought here as a little kid, where he built sandcastles and ran into the water with his Dad. He smiled gently, realizing all those memories were the footholds left for him to cling on to. That's the beauty of memories; despite the dynamic changes in your life, the memories once etched become static. 

Suddenly, two tiny humans surfaced from the waters and came running towards them, bubbling with energy. They caught hold of their grandfather's hand and eagerly said, "Daadu, come along and join us in dipping our feet in the water." He stared at them both with a blank face as if their words fell on deaf ears. The kids failed to understand this reaction, tugged harder at his hands, calling on their grandfather to join. Angered by this, he shoved their hands and remarked, "I am no one's Daadu."

It was like a hammer falling on those little hearts. They couldn't believe what they had heard, and neither had Ram earlier. The kids with tears in their eyes went to Ram and asked the obvious question, "Why is Daadu behaving so weirdly? He adores us so much and loves playing with us, and now refuses to acknowledge us?" Some questions never have a simple answer, and this was one such. Can the physical presence of a human be justified in words when they have disconnected from the world they thrive in?

Ram stared at the horizon, knowing they had now crossed it with all the memories he made with his Dad on this side left for him to cherish, but all he could tell his kids was, "Daadu has a large album where he stores all his memories, where someone is slowly tearing away the pages beyond his control. He might not remember your names, but his love for you both will always be the same. We just need to be there with him, which will brighten him up." 

The kids went and held their grandfather's hands lovingly. They didn't need recognition for something they already knew. Sometimes you don't need words to communicate.