Memory of the Present

Hold on … memory of the present …. What does that mean? How can you have a memory of the present? Isn’t a memory something of the past?

The answer to that is, Yes and No.

Yes, because we have been taught for several years that a memory is your recollection of an event, incident, situation or circumstance that has occurred in the past.

No, because as human beings we are each unique in the way we perceive everything around us. Thus, the present for each one of us is different and unique. Our past, or more importantly our memory of the past prejudices our perception of the present. Expanding the same concept a little further; the present now becomes our own unique recollection of the present. The present ceases to be an absolute term. Instead, it becomes a very personal and subjective perception unique to you. Isn’t that interesting?

So, the past and present are both very subjective to our perception and memory.

Now, if your point of reference is a time in the past, then relative to that reference point the present becomes a future state. For example on Monday, June 9, 2008, Friday, June 13, 2008 is the future. After 4 days on Friday, June 13, 2008, Monday becomes the past and Friday becomes the present.

Applying this to our conclusion the past, present and future become our individual perception or memory of the past, present and future.

The past, present and future is our entire lifetime … correct? So now our entire lifetime becomes just a perception … like a dream.

And that is precisely what Indian Philosophy has said for thousands of years: The life of the mortal in the physical world is Maya (made-up, make-believe, and imaginary).

Now, isn’t that interesting?

Your Memory and Identity

Before I actually start writing my piece, I would like to call your attention to two widely read and viewed stories: 'The Bourne Identity' and 'Anastasia'.

'The Bourne Identity', a thriller by Robert Ludlum which explores the loss of an individuals identity because of the loss of his memory. The novel narrates the adventures of this person as he attempts to discover his true identity.

'Anastasia' is the story of a woman who claimed she was Grand Duchess Anastasia: daughter of the last Czar of Russia. She never changed her claim till her death in 1974.Despite DNA testing that indicates otherwise, there are still several people who support her claim.

The underlying theme in both these cases is that of how our memory affects our identity ... or more importantly our perception of it.

It is almost as though our brain is like this data model, which when fed with some memories (data) responds with a projection of our perceived identity. The reason I say perceived identity is because it is a function of your memories. If you lose some part of your memory your perceived identity changes. Each memory you have adds some character or unique flavour to your identity. Your name is also part of your identity, but I would call that a mere pointer that is used to refer to your true identity or nature.

Think about it. How would you distinguish your identity? Would you try and define some attributes or characteristics? If you think a little more, you will see that you can actually identify a memory, from the present or past, that causes you to assign that attribute to your identity.

The Bourne Identity, though fictitious, is an excellent example of how losing your memory can cause you to lose your identity.

Anna Anderson is an excellent example of how you can strongly project and portray your identity on the basis of you memory of incidents, people, buildings, toys, etc.

I often surprise myself with the memories I have of my childhood. My oldest memory is of an aeroplane ... a fighter jet to be precise which was in the park in Roorkee. The plane was dull grey in color with the green and blue insignia of the sides. You could go into the plane, and as a child you can imagine that was quite a treat. I was about 3 years old when I last saw it. But my memory is fairly vivid of the plane standing in the park.

The interesting thing about my memories is that I have several memories between the ages of 4-10 and 15-17 that are very rich in detail. However my memories between ages 11-14 and then after 17 are not as rich in detail. I might remember the basic gist of the incident but not as many details. Memories from childhood are rich in details of the sights, sounds, colors, place, people and my perception of their emotion.

Another point of interest is that a majority of my memories which are rich is detail are generally happy memories. For e.g. my memory of the mischief I was up to one summer afternoon in Karnal, when I was all of 7 years old is quite vivid and clear. But my memory of the subsequent scolding is not. I cannot remember who it was that scolded me ... or where I was when I received that scolding. I remember I was scolded ... but not the rest.

May be someone will figure out how our brain works, how it compartmentalizes and stores information, and how it processes all that data to give us our identity.

The Secret Ingredient

Yesterday, Ina & I went to see 'Kung Fu Panda' (it is an animated movie). We both thoroughly enjoyed it. Apart from the humor and picturization, I liked the movie for another reason .... the subtle message it conveyed.

No matter who you are and where you are, if you believe yourself to be capable of something you will be able to achieve it. If you doubt yourself, you have already sowed the seeds of disappointment / defeat.

One must always remember that the most important part of the path to success is YOU !! Never doubt yourself .. if you fall ... pick yourself up .. learn and move on. Listen to all the teachings of wise people around you ... but learn to trust yourself and discern for yourself. It is important to make your own decisions, because you are the only person you knows 'you' best!

If you believe that you are luckiest person in the world, then let no one tell you otherwise. Believe in it, and soon you will see everyone else believe it too.

Man's ability to influence others with his thought, and be influenced by the thought of others, is what I believe to be the most incredible characteristic of mankind.

The secret ingredient to happiness/success is YOU.

A phenomenon called Asha Bhonsle .....

I have grown up listening to songs of Kishore Kumar, Asha Bhonsle, Lata Mangeshkar, Mohd. Rafi, Yesudas, Bhupinder, Geeta Dutt. But I never thought that I would actually listen to any of them live on a stage ... that too in a foreign country!!

Yesterday Ina and I went to attend a concert by Asha Bhonsle and Amit Kumar (S/o Kishore Kumar). Initially I wasn't inclined to go since it was a good 25 miles from where we stay, and I thought the tickets were rather expensive. But we hadn't really gone out anywhere for a while, and this was a good way to unwind.

Asha Bhonsle at 75 is simply amazing. She is so full of life and energy that it just unbelievable. She not only sang numbers like 'Piya tu, ab to aa jaa' but also danced to them. Her energy was infectious ... she had the entire audience dancing and swaying to her numbers.

Apart from the fact that her selection and rendition of the songs was flawless, we discovered that she has an amazing sense of humour. The most entertaining part of the concert was her mimicry of other singers especially Lata Mangeshkar. She had the entire auditorium in splits.

Amit Kumar's voice is like Kishore Kumars in many ways ... and yet not quite the same. We discovered yesterday that the song 'Bade Ache Lagte hain, yeh dharti, yeh sagar' is originally sung by Amit Kumar .. and not Kishore Kumar!! Amit had several anecdotes from his time with Kishore Kumar, SD Burman and RD Burman. He is quite a performer.

To summarize, Asha Bhonsle and Amit Kumar gave an excellent performance for the folks at Phoenix, and everyone present enjoyed this musical evening. For me personally, it is something I will remember for a long long time.

Trying to do some good ....

Today was an interesting experience .... I had signed up to donate blood as part of a United Blood Drive in office. The sign-up form required me to identify all the countries I had been to since 1980. Since I was born in 1981, the list spanned my entire lifetime. It was fun to revisit the memories of all the places I have been to. So with that general frame of mind, I fetched-up at the camp and was directed to a technician who conducted the general physical exam. The exam was painless and quick. Then began an onslaught of questions ... that went on forever. The fact that I was an Indian, who had lived in several places within India and also travelled a fair amount within Europe and South East Asia in the last 6 years did not help matters. She got a quick little tour of northern India, trying to track all the places I had been to on an atlas, and identify what their elevation was, etc.

The sad part was that at the end of all this, it was identified that because I had jaundice after the age of 11, I am barred from donating blood forever. While I have regretted having that gol-guppa at Pragati Maidan on several occassions, which most probably led to my getting jaundice. I think I felt most miserable today.

I guess sometimes even when we try to help ... we are unable to do so.

Music Transcends All Boundaries

A recent opportunity to attend a Sitar recital by Ustad Shahid Pervez and a Mohan Veena recital by Pt. Vishwa Mohan Bhatt made me think about the wondrous nature and impact of music.

The audience for both recitals was a good blend of people of different age groups, and from different parts of the world. It was a testament to the increasing popularity of Indian Classical Music.

For the 2-3 hours that the artistes performed, every member of the audience was transported to a different world ... a world free of our day-to-day worries and concerns ... a world full of harmony and peace.

If the language of the God's is indeed one ... then I am sure it is the language of music. It doesn't matter which part of the world you are in .... the seven (or twelve if you are a stickler) notes of music are the same everywhere. It is the universal language.

Work-life balance .... Where are we today? Where are we heading?


After having consistently put in some crazy hours, and still managing to have more left on my plate, I came to ponder over this oft referred term. Does it really exist, can any firm really offer this truly wonderful incentive (which may just be the outcome of some rather creative marketing from HR!!?)



It has been my experience that no matter which part of the world you work in, and no matter in what capacity, the organization will always demand all of your time. But it is up to you to decide how much you plan to give it. Once you make that decision, everything else adjusts to it. But more than we would like to admit, we are just spending a lot of time and effort in the hope of that elusive promotion/bonus. In the bargain we forget to enjoy the present time and company we have.

The reason I talk about this is, that if we look around (irrespective of which part of the world you are in) the very fabric of society which once centered around family .... is now deteriorating. The problem is probably more aggravated in the west but the east is not really that far off. In fact the West has probably seen the results this has had on society and is making an effort to bring back some of the older tenets of society and family. Whereas in the East job opportunities, education, and exciting career prospects are making people go further and further away from home.

Travelling to distant lands and foreign countries, exploring new places and cuisines is great fun .... but believe me after a while the novelty wears off and you yearn for everything that was once so close to you and is now so far away.

The Wisdom of the East ... "Eat and drink and make merry today" for tomorrow we may work (or might have to work, as the case may be)

Or my take on it ... in any case :)

Jujubes and Churan

For all the city folks who have not heard of these terms, you have no idea what you've missed! At one point of time, these meant the world to me! To be fair ... they still mean a lot :)

Between ages 4-10 most holidays were spent in Karnal (a little town in the northern part of India, just off the GT Road). Going to Karnal usually meant getting spoilt silly by my Thakuma (paternal grandmother) and Jetha (paternal uncle). With an indulging uncle and grandma, Karnal seemed magical with its unlimited supply of jujubes, churan and ice cream. Like the 'Sugar Plum Tree'.

I am sure several whole-sellers would mistake Jetha to be the owner of one of those friendly family run candy stores because of the quantities he would buy. I cannot remember a single occasion when I have come to Karnal and not found at least one large box of assorted candies. In particular I remember these orange flavoured jujubes which were quite cleverly packed to look like an orange with elven slices. I forget the name of the company, but they made the most delicious Jujubes I have ever tasted. These would of course be rationed wisely by Jetha. Usually one pack would last me for a few days, though I remember one occasion where I was really greedy and had two packs in one day ... needless to say I had an upset stomach shortly.

My fondness for Churan was largely inherited from my Thaku. Almost every other day, Thaku would give me 2o paise to buy churan for the two of us. Churan is a khatta-meetha digestive with tamarind, anardana and sugar. I would go over to a shop by the corner of the street and get these delicious treats. 20 paise used to get us 10 pieces of churan. I was allowed to have one churan, on the way and I would relish it, enjoying the khatta-meetha taste of tamarind, anardana and sugar. Thaku would keep the remaining for safe keeping, and we'd have them together after lunch or later in the evening before dinner.

While I have had the opportunity to have jujubes and churan in several places since ... I have never quite enjoyed them as much as I did in Karnal.

Noida to Chandigarh ... A most memorable trip

On one of those long weekends when we were staying in NOIDA, my sister and I decided that we would like to go visit our cousins in Chandigarh. We first tried convincing my father about it, but that was in vain. In any case, we pestered him enough for him to comment that why don't we just travel on our own. Aged 14 and 7 respectively at that point in time, nothing seemed impossible.

So guess what ... we took the challenge, and said that we'll travel by ourselves. My father had not anticipated this, so he mulled over it for a while ... and then said very well, you might as well give it a shot!! He explained the route I was to take, with the standard list of "things to do / not do".

In about an hour, both of us packed and were ready to leave. Ma packed us some goodies for the trip. Baba dropped us off to the nearest bus stand. In our excitement and enthusiasm, we overlooked the uncomfortable seats, the continuous rattling of the windows, the occassional where we took a bus to ISBT (Inter-State Bus Terminus). Both of us full of enthusiasm and really looked forward to the trip.

After about nearly 2 hours of travel in the bus, we finally reached ISBT. The ISBT is a fairly large structure, sprawled across almost an acre or more of land. The whole place is abuzz with activity: almost like an ant hill ... No matter which direction you look at, the whole place is just teeming with people. The sheer multitude of people was quite overwhelming. Troops of people flow in and out of this place. There is no apparent order to this, and yet everything flows smoothly.

It shook the confidence I had a few hours ago .... was I sure I could do this? ... forget reaching Chandigarh ... we could get lost right here!! Thankfully, I decided not to pursue that line of thought for too long! So I picked up our bags in one hand, and grabbed my sisters hand with the other. I tried to recall the instructions that my father had given, and followed them to the dot.

On the way, we saw Parents juggling between yelling at their children to stay close, and their luggage, hawkers of various ages marketing their wares, ranging from orange/lemon drops, peanuts, chips, freshly cut fruit, magic hair oil, to books that promise to solve all your life's problems, and others too :) , random murder mysteries no one has ever heard of, toys, puzzles, ball-point pens, etc. etc. All of them have a unique pitch and volume to their sales pitch ... almost as though all of them trained in the same school for it !!

You can hear snatches of conversations (which are loud enough to be heard over the din) in a variety of Indian languages. We waded through the sea of people to reach a square booth, that had some sort of a grilled fence over the top, almost like there was some wild animal caged in there. A loosely attached tin board identified it as the ticketing booth. And by the sound emanating from the booth, it appeared that there was some animal caged there!!

The booth was occupied by four people, one for each side of the square. The gentleman (if one may allude that term to him) had a large rectangular head, with a crew-cut hair cut, large teeth which apparently unhappy inside seem to happier out of his mouth. His vocabulary seemed particularly limited, as was his comprehension. Of course that might be easily explained by the general din, but I am not entirely sure of that. In any case after a few attempts he finally grasped what the bespectacled young boy across the counter was trying to convey. He yelled out a number, indicating that was the expected payment. Upon receipt of the amount, he started pulling out different coloured pieces of paper, and punching holes in them. For a moment I thought he might be having some sort of a seizure! But apparently there was some logic behind the madness. In any case some 10 different coloured pieces of paper were thrust into my hand, and the folks behind ensured I was no longer between them and the ticket counter.

We promptly set off in search for our bus, which was thankfully pretty close by. We managed to find seats right in the middle (explicit instructions to be seated in the centre to minimise the jolts and jerks in the journey: courtesy my dear father. He thinks of everything!). Now with us seated, I did one quick check to confirm that I still had all that I had left home with: food (check), Putul (check), wallet (check), phone numbers & address (source / destination) (check) .. so that is indeed a good beginning.

The bus filled up pretty quickly. A tall sardarji, with a flowing white beard was to be the driver. He had a fair number of teeth missing, and his speech was not particularly coherent. But the bus conductor who had obviously been travelling with him for sometime, could perfectly understand all that was mumbled! Our journey finally began, and slowly but surely, we seemed to be getting away from the noise, grime and congestion of Delhi.

In the meanwhile my sister was taking in the sights and sounds of everything passing by ... animate or otherwise ... and asking several questions. I tried to answer as many as I could honestly, but was soon coming up some very creative answers!! (just to keep myself occupied :) ). As we moved out of the city, and the activity outside died down. She shifted her interest to the passengers. Now if you knew her at that age, you knew this was dangerous. There could be very embarrassing questions asked with the usual bluntness and honesty of a 7yr old. And sure enough ... why did the sardarji have a long beard, why does that person have a pock marked face, are all these people going to Chandigarh, do they know Kaku? how fast is the bus going? when will we reach ? ... The questions were endless ... and unfortunately my patience was not.

The gentleman sitting next to me struck up a conversation, and I learnt that he is going to Karnal to meet some of his relatives. He was teaching music to children in a school in Delhi. Soon Putul was directing all her questions to this gentleman (it could be because I wasn't particularly responsive), who very patiently answered all her questions.

The journey seemed to flyby, and soon the bus had stopped at a dhaba (roadside inn) for a lunch break. We had a hearty meal of paranthas (a delicious stuffed Indian bread) and dahi (natural yogurt) and then set off on our journey again.

Our co-passenger got off at Karnal, and we continued on our journey. All the talking had thankfully tired Putul, so she was now napping comfortably. Just short of Chandigarh, the bus seemed to make some grating sounds, and then lurched to a halt. No amount of mumblings and encouragement from the driver would get the vehicle to start. Finally all the passengers were requested to get off the bus, and board the next one that came by. The sun was setting and it was getting dark ... we were in the middle on green fields on both sides, and nothing else in sight. I was a little concerned. But since there were so many people with us, I was sure it wouldn't be a problem. We waited for about 30 minutes before another bus came by, thankfully they had the space to accommodate all of us, and we continued our journey.

We reached Chandigarh fairly quickly after that, and our dear Kaku was at the bus stand to receive us. It was a great trip for both of us!