Namless…

Last year in November, I went to see this play, “Waiting for Godot”, at NAPA. I was sitting in the corner, so I was not getting a good view of the stage, therefore, I was not enjoying and paying attention as much as I would if I were sitting in the middle. However, the dialogue exchange between the two main characters in the play got my attention and somehow still linger on:

ESTRAGON: I’m unhappy.
VLADIMIR: Not really! Since when?
ESTRAGON: I’d forgotten.
VLADIMIR: Extraordinary the tricks that memory plays!

Extraordinary the tricks that memory plays… I know it’s deep. And I will come to that. However, what actually got my attention first was that Estragon had been unhappy for so long that he had forgotten its genesis. How tragic it is. I mean, just by knowing this about someone makes you instantly unhappy. And more so, if it’s true for you too. That just sucks.

I don’t know since how long I have been unhappy. I am trying to recall. Just I couldn’t. And such memory loss is something excruciatingly painful to live with, not just for Estragon but for me too. I think everyone of us, wait for that perfect moment, where everything starts to fall into place, and life’s is all haha hehe thereon. The happy endings of course! But guess, life is not a film, where when it ends, it literally ends. I think life has no happy ending to offer, even if you have a lived a very happy life, you will end sadly. Ends are only happy in movies, and books. And I just realize that I am being next level emo in this post, and this is getting uncomfortable.

So, anyways coming on to the last line “Extraordinary the tricks that memory plays” is so true, without exception. Memory, on the face of it, stores information, but actually it collects facts that undermine you, sometimes swiftly and most of the times slowly. It tricks you into believing that what happened may have a reason. It pushes you to draw a deluded pattern of all the sad events of your life, for a greater good. It makes you wanna live in the afterglow, which is nothing but an exaggerated version of something you wouldn’t even remember if the memory didn’t exist.

2 seconds of solace is the trick that memory plays. And we invest so much time in making it…making something which is misleading, wily and appalling. How extraordinary it is.