Fading Memory

This blog is not aimed at discussing medical terms relating to memory loss like: Dementia or Alzheimer, its causes and the subsequent medical or spiritual treatment to recover or stall the loss to a certain level. I just want to share my experience as to how and when I got into observing that I have started losing my memory.

As I find through experience memory loss is a slow process that begins in the age of 40s under normal circumstances. It starts with some rare and random instances of forgetting people and things especially names of distant relative and friends, acquaintances, co-workers and neighbors. It is then followed by real memory loss when you begin forgetting important tasks repeatedly and frequently. You become forgetful and embarrassingly turn blank when asked about an update on an important assignment in the office. On some other instance you fail to recall the name of an office colleague during a meeting and end up scratching your head. We escape this awkwardness by uttering; sorry, I forgot or I beg your pardon, etc., nevertheless, such excuses stop working when frequency of such occurrences multiplies. On a personal or family note, things get worse when you forget it completely that you were supposed to buy certain items (Milk, Bread, eggs, and Dahi, etc.) on way back home from the workplace on the instructions of your spouse. This is a serious noncompliance. :)

Have you ever noticed that you often mix-up names of your children? For example you want to call your son “Ali” and shout for elder “Ahmed” instead. And during a discussion on any matter with your family members you often confuse X with Y and vice versa. Is it as a result of fading memory or something else?

When you begin finding yourself at the receiving end on some important issues that were forgotten altogether, it’s time one realized that process of memory loss has reached at an irreversible point, owing to ageing predominantly or some other medical reasons generally.

After having written the above paragraphs let me declare myself a “forgetful person” too. Nearing the retirement age, I find it hard to remember people, names and things when it matters a lot. Memory loss was subtle and slow in the first place; I started calling my children with their cousins’ names occasionally. My wife would smile at me suspiciously and act with solace and appreciation that since my nieces and nephews were very dear to me therefore I mixed up their names. I, in turn, would largely agree with her, sheepishly though. Nevertheless, it kept happening time and again, and as I grew older I began forgetting some common things; names of performing art celebrities, title of books and authors, movie titles, politicians, TV-anchors, office colleagues, and relatives, while being in the middle of gossip, discussions or during arguments.

Holding an important and senior position demands sharpness in memory because one keeps working on many vital tasks simultaneously. I tend to forget it sometimes altogether that I have to produce multiple outcomes instead of one result, and need a reminder for it. At times I baffle when my boss asks: Did you respond to the fax I sent you in the morning? Which fax? I ask bewilderingly, in spite of the fact that I had already responded on the same matter. And at times I also forget that the previous day I assigned some important task to one of my junior staff and seek his response on it today and unless my junior turns up himself he can get away with it till I remember some days later.

Now, you know that I tend to forget people and things, on and off, and therefore, you must be logical in judging me that my work performance and delivery or output should have declined considerably or even substantially, but let me reveal to you that it’s not like that. I still remember (forgetful person can remember, though) most of the things I need to remember. For example I never forget current tasks but do forget some concurrent ones. Similarly, I do not forget birth-dates of all family members and loved ones (Did you notice I wrote ‘birth-dates’, not ‘birthdays’). Never forget all those who have extended even a slightest favour, those who helped me in difficult times, those who cared for me, loved me, those who hated me, still revile me, and of course those who prayed for me.

In spite of the above, my fading memory never lets me forget that I’m a weak, sinful and mortal being and therefore, always seek forgiveness from the people I hurt, and from the Almighty Allah (swt) whose commandments I flout intentionally and inadvertently and perhaps would be doing till I breathe my last. 

Last Days of Life

The greatest mystery of life resides in its uncertainty; not knowing when we are going to die. If we knew, we would have also known about our last days and accordingly we could have mended / altered our life style in the remaining period of life. 

What would we be changing in our last days; good from bad, truth from lies, love from hate, care from ignoring, forgiveness from sins, and prayers from curses? Hopefully it is, because knowingly nobody would like to leave the world with a burden of life-long absurdities. 

Why the world cannot change, do good based on the unpredictability of life and why would good things begin happening around us once we came to know that our time is up? Why can’t people assume that they could also be lying frozen in caskets on their shoulders? Why do they think that their time is still not up like the one about to be buried?

The uncertainty of life holds great charm and excitement for the living people. A sudden death of some friend or acquaintance sends shock waves through our spine for a brief period. However, we immediately recover from this phase justifying ourselves that this death was an inevitable event for the deceased while ours is still not certain. 

As our breathing continues our thinking shifts to daily life problems, issues, commitments, responsibilities, intrigues, etc., hence, it is taken for granted that last days are still a distant possibility. 

And then there is a great distraction from “Last Days” in the disguise of “Average Life Expectancy”. The persistent improvements in the living conditions the average life expectancy goes on increasing and touches 70 years in our region or even beyond in case of developed western countries. People in my age group crossing into upper 50s always take a sigh of relief at this encouraging factor. Supposing that average life remains stagnant at 70, we still find ourselves comfortably placed, invigorated and pushing further our ambitions, new objectives and new targets. 

Ask young people if an aged person can have ambitions and they would smile meaningfully in return with the following comments; they should be seeking forgiveness of the Lord and making preparation for painless transition into hereafter. 

So, are we ready to accept that our last days have already begun? Logically, a normal and healthy person would never agree to it and would insist that they still have a long way to go. However, a person terminally ill and reeling for long would have no choice left with them but to give up and wait for painful departure, forever. 

The mysterious unknown finale of life makes it a chilling and challenging phenomenon. Those who believe in the accountability of their worldly deeds when encountering Lord, on rendezvous, in hereafter, would surely make persisting efforts throughout their life to become victors. Those who doubt it and argue that their journey started with the natural creation of the planet Earth and would end here eternally will probably keep enjoying every bit of life without fear of being resurrected and held answerable to how they lived. 

I am a fearful one and strong believer in the life hereafter. The “Last Days” has been haunting me for long now in spite of maintaining excellent health. But having said that I often slip from the righteous path like all other human beings who run an inherent weakness of getting magnetized to the circumstances, daily chores, and falling prey to the beauty of this world.  

The “Last Days of Life” would probably be never foreseeable!

Part VII - My Adolescence Memoirs - Larkana in 1970s

Larkana was a hub of sports activities in 1970s. Watching boys playing Cricket, Hockey and Football was my first experience in Larkana. I tried playing all games from school level onwards and fell in love for Cricket only. This love affair is life-long, though most of the time it is restricted to watching only. I was a mediocre in sports. Perhaps because of this reason I poked my nose in every sport sans successfully.

It would also be worth mentioning about the bustling sports activities in the city during 1970s. While Hockey and Cricket dominated among children and youth, other sports like Football, Badminton, and Table Tennis were also played and enjoyed vastly. School playgrounds would remain crowded during afternoons every day, and especially Sundays. But the main hub of sports activities was beautiful Larkana Stadium. Hockey used to be played at main ground while Cricket on a side park. Regular tournaments of Hockey and Cricket pulled huge crowds during afternoons. All Pakistan District Hockey Tournament on annual basis was a regular feature wherein teams from across the country would come to participate. Former great Hockey Players like Islahuddin, Samiullah, Akhtar Rasool, Manzoorul Hasan, etc played many a times in Larkana. Similarly I remember a Cricket tournament when test cricketers Intakhab Alam, Talat Ali and Umar Masood came to play here. Interestingly, Hockey was popular in Urdu speaking boys and Cricket in Sindhi speaking youth.

During early 70s, whether grownup college boys or school kids, all used to play cricket with the genuine hard ball that was available at a paltry cost of about 1 to 3 Rupees. Playing Cricket with a tennis ball was simply out of question and not in vogue like it is widely used today. However in late 70s when the Cricket ball became dearer and went beyond the affordable reach of a common player costing 10 Rupees each, boys switched over to playing with tennis ball wrapped with electrical insulation tape. We too switched over to playing Cricket with tapped tennis ball but not before I sustained a terrible injury.

While fielding at “Silly Mid-On” position (just 4-5 feet away from the batsman) during a cricket match, the batsman swept the hard cricket ball with full force. The ball landed on my upper lip ferociously. When came to senses I found myself holding my mouth while blood dripped through the fingers profusely. Later, it was learnt that my four upper front teeth were nearly hanging. I was rushed to a Dentist (on bicycle) who refused to treat me declaring that the patient`s serious injury demanded his immediate shifting to Hyderabad or Karachi. Instead, my friends took me to a “Quack Dentist” who provided me with first aid, tied my upper teeth with a horizontal curved metallic arching rod temporarily, and interestingly, grinded my lower front teeth so that they shouldn’t touch the extremely aching upper ones. Panic gripped my family when I reached home with swollen lips. The very next day my mother took me to Hyderabad and after going through a full week’s treatment with Dentist named Dr. Essa I was allowed to return home, with teeth remained tied with braces for the next six months. That was the last time I had played cricket with hard ball.

Beside playing Cricket, Hockey and Football my other pastime (Time waster) was bathing & swimming in “Aabro” and “Punj-Pullee (5-gated)”, the two small irrigation canals off-taking on right bank from main Rice Canal at the outskirts of the city. Interestingly, the city has sprawled so much in last 40 years that these canals (drains, in fact, with all sewage of Larkana flowing into them) run almost through middle of the city now.

During every hot and scorching summer the non-perennial Rice Canal and its two off-taking small irrigation channels on right bank were thronged and swarmed by people of all ages, especially on Fridays (being holiday), for taking long dips in the flowing turbid waters of these canals to cool down their body temperatures, have fun, and enjoy eating dates and mangoes that they would bring along with them. We also used to go for swimming in these canals almost every week. Once, on such a swimming trip to these canals, while jumping into “Aabro” at its Regulator, my brother Munir hit the edge of concrete pier separating two gates of the canal. What we saw was bloodied turbid water and a deep cut underneath his lower lip. Some two hours later we reached home, after Munir`s wound well stitched and bandaged at the Civil Hospital.

Mild winters and early springs were no less fun; it was time to enjoy kite flying and playing marbles in the street. Kite flying was also one of my passions besides swimming, watching action movies and reading story books/novels (in Urdu only). Unlike Lahore’s famous “Bo-Kata” term shouted at the time of Kite flying contests during “Basant” (early February) we simply yelled whenever won the contest while flying the kites on rooftops. Some big contests also used to hold sporadically either in the grand Municipal Stadium or on a large open space near city’s “Red-light Area”. Most of the contestants were always happened to be rich pimps coming from other big cities, even from Lahore too. They would carry fine and expensive kite flying strings and large but beautiful kites. Continued….

I Cried

I cried hard entering the world

Mom cried harder delivering me

Rest were elated

Celebrated my arrival

I cried when felt hungry, sleepy and wet

Mom fed me in her arms

Clung with her chest, recited prayers

And changed my diapers

I cried trying to sit, stand and walk

She screamed in euphoria on every instance

I cried when she left me alone in school

She was holding back her tears, waving her hand

Years went by; I grew into a man, she grew old

She cried when I yelled;

At her, my wife, and children

I cried in disgrace, in solitude

I cried profusely when Mom left forever

She looked serene in her last journey

I cried relentlessly on her eternal abode

I cry when I relive her

Time never stops, I’m growing old

Have become susceptible to crying

Someday my loved ones will cry;

For me, over me!

Reflections

The term “reflection” instantly takes me on a virtual flying carpet to my school days whenever I come across it. While studying Physics in Class-9 I learned two specific elementary science terms beside plenty of others; reflection and refraction. I vividly remember doing experiments on reflection and refraction in science laboratory with the help of a small mirror strip, some paper pins, a blank drawing paper, lead pencils, geometry box and the most indispensible tool; eraser.

Decades down the road we are moving to a stage where it requires reflecting upon every aspect of life; childhood and young age, grownup and ageing, parents and children, family and work, friends and foes, love and hate, home and house, accomplishments and failures, inspirations and enervations, rewards and punishments, bosses and co-workers, money and wealth, religion and sects, nationalism and ethnicity, patriotism and emigration, etc.

Recalling any of above facets, even randomly, would put you in deep ponder with varied moods, emotions and sentiments. For instance let’s go through our life long targeted goals versus achievements and failures. Forget about being grateful over “what I do have” and/or “don’t have”. You will notice that not everything you desired or longed for could be attained. And even if some goals were realized those were accomplished at such a belated stage where they lost their value in our minds, excitement in hearts and sparkle in eyes.

What about those dreams which still remain unfulfilled? These are real heartbreaking things; always making us feel remorseful, leave frustrated and stung. Nature plays its own tricks with everyone; be a poor or wealthy, healthy or deposed, intelligent or ignorant, handsome/beautiful or plain/ordinary, and so on. Nature always leaves one discontented on one account or other. Besides, it keeps us on a trail of unquenched and unending desires and wishes.

The material world keeps us on toes to earn bread and butter and to work hard to make both ends meet. This phenomenon lands us live away from our family, especially parents. The irony is that we often left with a choice to live either with parents or own family (spouse and children), and most of the time we prefer to live with the latter. Blessed are those a few who don’t have to choose either of them. Reflecting upon your choices and options at a later age when parents are no more alive sends shivers through the spine. Similarly some friendships that once considered staying unbroken and everlasting remain totally forgotten now. Reminiscing one or two such instances make us poignant too.

At this point in age when we have ample time to reflect upon the entire length of our life the most hurting thing that recurs in mind is that we wasted too much time on either doing nothing or doing things less important and insignificant ones. Alas! We could have had more meaningful and productive life; could have studied more, worked harder, devoted quality time for the family, took extra leisure to travel frequently within and/or abroad, helped more people, made more good friends, hated less people, etc.

Lastly, while we have covered longer part of the road and “ultimate” destination is within our sight we would certainly like to reflect upon how it went through. Irrespective of our faith or religion every one of us would want their end with; more pluses and fewer minuses, ample kind acts than sins, much helping than creating hurdles, devoting and loving figure than a hating and troublemaker family member. Although we can never payback our parents’ love and care, however, we can extend the same to our children and grand children.

Age of Married Life!

The other day I watched a movie named “The Intern”. After a few days I ran it again; less because of legendary actor Robert De Niro and charming Anne Hathaway, more because of the lovely, entertaining and gripping script. It’s all about a single (widower, in fact) 70-years old retired gentleman trying desperately to live a lively life through making himself engaged in various activities. Luckily he intercepts a flyer sticking on a wall regarding some senior intern positions in some company. He applies, gets the job and during the course of working there helps his boss, a 24-years old beautiful married girl, in overcoming her ever expanding office woes as well as helping save her married life.

Let’s recapture a moment from “The Intern”.

Boss Girl: Let’s talk about your wife

The Intern: She was lovely

Girl: Long marriage?

Intern: Not long enough. Only 42 years!

So how long is your age of married life? At my age, crossing into upper 50s we all ought to have spent more or less 25 years of our married life. It’s been a pretty long span. While looking back at this point in time, it appears to have passed in a flash. We never realized during all this long period of life that when we were concentrating relentlessly to improving our quality of life; solving our everyday issues, raising children, struggling to settle down, taking care of ageing parents, and maintaining relations with extended family members and friends, etc., the time never stopped and the clock kept ticking away.

We have had tough times; our past speaks of perseverance and endeavors to realization of targeted goals in order to reap and comb up the luxuries of life. And while we chased down our dreams we forgot or ignored to fare well with our spouses all along. These ladies deserved our better treatment, more than our luxuries. Fulfilling their needs and demands were important but that’s not all we were expected to do only. Spouses are not machines or robots doing chores from dawn to dusk, and in between when we get together we keep discussing the issues and problems that have been solved and those that are still lingering on. Instead of showing and expressing our love and care we prefer hitting the bed to fall asleep instantly leaving them despised, frustrated, and insomniac.

Men are an ungrateful entity. Some of you may disagree over my “sweeping statement” but it remains the harsh reality that while wives remain faithful, truthful, sincere and romancing with their respective husbands, the creed known as husbands takes their better halves for granted. We always remain friendly, helping and throwing our crooked smiles to all other ladies coming in contact with us sans our spouses. Allow me to confess that having mere religious liberty to marry four women at any single time in our life gives us an unparalleled domination over our wives to dictate rules of married life games, indirectly leading to threatening and emotional blackmailing. We may infrequently express to our wives our aspiration of marrying other women while sporting a farcical smile on our faces but deep down within us the very desire of going for second marriage keeps kindling, never subsiding.

Nevertheless, after being together for decades, the loving, friendlier or mere pulling-on relationship between husband and wife gets stronger naturally. They become habitual of their habits and routines. Things flow at ease between them, with minimal arguments and almost negligible disputes. They know each other’s ailments and remain vigilant of medicines-taking times, eating behaviors, sweating smells, sleeping patterns, snoring absorbing/avoiding techniques and most importantly, when to demonstrate patience.

The long bond between the spouses makes them inseparable albeit death. Perhaps, death of the partner is the moment when the other undergoes a revelation that the life spent together has been cut short by nature too early, and that living a lonely rest-of-the-life at the old age would be the most toughest and difficult thing ever to happen.

What will happen to our age group after 15 years from now? Those who do not survive need not worry about it. The couples surviving till that time would be the luckiest and loveliest, and those without having their spouses living around by 2030 should be seeking senior intern job positions!