I remember...

When I pass those huge hospital buildings on my train journeys, I remember my friend who studies there. I haven't talked to her in ages. I remember the extra chapatis she'd bring us friends with her grandmother's special curry. I remember how she used to randomly tell me obvious facts about the world, opening my eyes and gaining me more perspective. I remember she had weird email IDs. I remember how we teased our common friend about her crush. I remember her iconic doubt in that biology class, which confounded our best teacher.

I remember that one interaction with that teacher who never taught me. I thought my friend who was also there remembered it. I was wrong. When I saw that teacher's smiling face in the obituary, I realised I'd be the only person remembering that joke he cracked. I'm amazed at how much people can forget. Or perhaps I remember too much. But that's not true. I do forget. Mainly faces and names, and kerchiefs and masks. But I remember little, overlooked stuff, the smell of a place, and how someone made me feel. I guess remembering that - is not everyone's forte.

I remember the coloured sweet papads my late grandfather brought me from the festival at a temple. I vaguely remember him getting ready to go to his shop by the river. I remember the smell of his house on a summer afternoon.

I remember the chocolates my late uncle used to bring me and my sister. I remember the old crib in his room in our old house. I remember how kind he was to me and my sister.

I remember my other late uncle sitting in his shop by the river. I remember his genuine smile upon seeing us. Now, when I see his shop closed, it makes me sad. I remember the earthen floor of their house before they changed it to tiles.

I read somewhere that happiness comes in waves. Grief also comes in waves. Tsunami waves for the closest people, wrecking them. But waves regardless for everyone. Some of us observe it from a distance and move on. But some of us feel that sand under our feet washing away as we remember the random little detail that made us feel safe and seen. The grief wave may not hit harder as time progresses, but remembering- I'll always do.

Death is not the only reason for grief. Distance and time killing human connections are equally grieving. You can argue technology is crossing those bridges and connecting people. To an extent, yes, it is. But the virtual world, merely an extension of the real world, carries every nuance of the real world in there- inhibitions, unsaid rules and norms, unwanted drama and the bridges of distance and time.

I remember the falling apart of a friendship I believed to be solid. I remember the moment it hit me that growing apart was a reality. Still, I remember her favourite song, her dreams and ambitions and the song she associates with me. Dearly, I remember the way music lit up her eyes.

I remember my first crush and how I didn't even know it was a crush. I remember how innocent a feeling it was to merely like that one friend more than the other friends.

I also remember my longest crush. I remember never having thought of liking him more than as a friend and how distance and time proved me wrong. I remember so much, but mostly, I remember how I could never find a flaw in him, even when he could find some. I remember dreaming, blushing, but also waiting- for courage, for the universe, for some magic to happen on its own.

I remember. Sometimes, so much so that I'll deprive myself of sleep and write a monotonous passage where too many sentences begin with "I remember." Did you know one of Taylor Swift's songs starts with "I Remember?" Anyway, I remember. But I also fear a distant possibility of not remembering. For now, I cherish how much I remember. A while back, someone accused me of being fragile, weak, feeling too much, and moody. Indirectly, many people do that. But then someone said I'm just a bit sensitive, that's all. That resonated. I'm just sensitive. It's not a weakness. It's just an urge to be in tune with myself, my moods, my surroundings, nature and the people I surround myself with. At least that's how I feel. When it's out of tune, it affects me; I get sad, tired and low. But that's not going to stop me from feeling it all. Because hiding has only suffocated me. So I let myself be free- to see, to feel, to experience, to remember, still occasionally to forget.

P.S: There are actually four TS songs that begin with the exact phrase 'I remember' and in complete different vibes.

Safe and Sound, WANEGBT, Ronan, Question?