A love story

I love her. Sometimes, I just want to take her by the arm and shake her, and tell her that I love her, that she should fight against those fleeting impulses, that she can win biology against all odds. But I will be lying. And it wont matter anyway, a momentary distraction: a sneeze, a call of the hawker selling cheap woolen socks, a loud car horn, would snap her into oblivion. Then she'll forget why she is there with me, or who I am, or where we are, or who she is. She'll only remember how to get back home, that has been encoded into her subconscious through years of talking the same old route. And when I ask her if she can return home on her own, she uncertainly answer than she can, though she wont be able to draw a map.

It has been like this for twelve years. In the beginning, it was just temporary blackouts that lasted several seconds. She would joke that she had had a vision and that 'higher powers' had talked to her. The length of the blackouts began increasing, and she was taken to several doctors, none of whom could diagnose the problem exactly. They'd prescribe one medicine after other-- the blackouts would get shorter, but she would soon relapse, and she would need another medicine. After exhausting all combination of doses and brands of neuro-medicines, her parents decided to get a definite diagnosis and took her to Bangkok.

There they discovered she had an extremely rare virus inside her brain which had been slowly chewing her brain from the inside: all the major centers for short-term memory retention and creation were all but gone. Even until then, she was still herself. Perhaps it was all the grief and the sobriety, but it was after returning that she began to lose her  mind. The blackouts had started decreasing even before she had left for Bankok, and they were all but gone. Now she wouldn't remember. She would go to the Kitchen to make tea for the guests, and after half hour report that dinner was ready. She would leave for job, but would have to call home from the bus-stop to ascertain where she was going. Things kept getting worse until she reached this stage: she cannot retain her memory for more than a few fleeting moments. Yes, like the film Ghazni, or Memento, but only much, much sadder.

For us, at least. By herself, she's the happiest person on Earth. She doesn't worry about missed appointments or angry friends or a cheating boyfriend(not that she'd have to worry, with me). She just doesn't remember them. She seems to be stuck somewhere between 10 to 11 years in the past, and is dazed to discover the year when she looks at the Papers. The daze passes quickly, of course, as she forgets the date just as soon as she starts reading something else.

When I said she doesn't recognize me(in the beginning), I was lying. She does know me, she's fond of me even, but that me happens to be a eleven-years younger version of me. I have to struggle on a daily basis to convince her that I am the same guy she know. But by the time she's convinced, she's already forgotten what I am talking about, so I don't bother to tell her who I am. We talk about me, but she sees me as a common friend, and older brother perhaps, when she's talking about me. She says that I am a nice guy, and if I stopped smoking and traveling around so often, she'd even consider asking me out. I ask her if she'd really ask me out, I mean, him. "Of course, I have to, don't I? He's such a shy guy, sometimes I am scared what he'll do when I ask him out. I really hope he doesn't jump out of the building." And she giggles. Every time. I nod, pretending to be my own brother, telling her how stupid and immature I am. "No, I don't think so. He's rather nice and understanding. He just has to stop smoking and running around so often, " she counters. I nod. She has already forgotten what we were talking about.

I want to be with her, forever. Her parents are not so sure about leaving her, but they have seriously thought about what would happen to her after they were gone. They want her to be with me, but they don't want to dwell upon such things. I try to convince them that I am a good guy-- I have been with her throughout, she liked me even before this happened, and there's nothing more I care about than her. But they have their doubts-- I am not employed, and I seem to be obsessed with her and only her. I try to kindly point out--suppressing my urge to shout and throw vases at them-- that I gave my job up for her, and stopped doing everything else because she didn't want me to travel around. I also point out that I am financially stable.
They will come over. The tougher task is to bring her over. I know with enough patience and love, I can do that.

THE END

Inspired by this National Geographic Piece.... Very touching... Peace!