Memories are silly. They don’t remember anything. Just some haphazard bits of data arranged in order of no consequence.
And when they do get stored chronologically, some parts are always left missing.They forget what was in between. So to cover up, they concoct a plan. That was a a very screwed up plan to begin with.
Anyway, the plan was to prepare a dish – a rich dish per say.With all the usual ingredients – potatoes with a pinch of salt, sprinkles of pepper and mayonnaise. But to add texture,they added some good old radish.
Let’s feast.
Then I eat it,swallow it, devour it,gestate on it.Just unable to digest it.
Later I sit. Sensing something amiss, wondering what is that I missed. Not knowing then, it’s after all just the radish. Being where it has no business to be, filling in the gaps when it is not meant to be.
Silly memories. Playing with me.
P.C Monimoy Bhattacharyya
lovecadbury 