Rebeccus Farcis

Rebeccus Farcis means "Have Fun", in err.. the yet to be discovered Martian.

Eternal chaos of a deranged mind

with 2 comments

Allow me to get into the issue right away – I have a strange memory. It stores, for very long periods of time, in bits and pieces, chunks of information, considered, in the civil world – trash. Stop me, in the middle of the road – as I am somnambulating in the deepest of my sleeps, and pop up the question: “When did Sachin Tendulkar make his debut”
Pat would come the reply, still in my sleep – “Nov 15, 1989”.
“When did Douglas MacArthur get his 15 seconds of fame?”
Now, when most of the blessed souls in this world, whether sleeping or not, would be found digging into what is left of their grey matter trying to figure out WHO MacArthur is or what he did, an instantaneous response would generate from my set of grey cells – “Aug 6, 1945”.
Change the topic and plunge into economics – “What, my friend, was the Gross Domestic Product of Iceland in the year 1842″…. I can’t really recollect the exact figures at this juncture, but yeah, can assure you, when my REMs are at their highest, I can answer this one too.

Even as someone would marvel (yeah I know, nobody would ;)) at this memory, lets get to the other end, the more important and sadly the gauche side of it. Visual memory – the thing that stores information of faces and such things, in general consensus, considered the more important things to store inside the cranium – am rather horrible. Sample a few instances:

Even as a child, legendary folklore ran around the neighborhood of the Badekila home that this guy was remarkable… any program at home, invariably a host of aunts used to land up, every one would surround this poor soul and pop up some of the most important questions that humanity has been able to conjure:
“Who am I?”
“Atte :)” (aunty), as a child, I used to beam much more, the current state of affairs not being the rosiest set aside.
“Yava atte putta?”, (which aunty), then I would realize they could beam as much.. same blood you see.
“Savitha atte………. na… Malati atte…. alla.. Girijatte…….”..
“Hahaha…”, as mentioned, they could beam too. 😦

Twins – whatever makes a fertilized ovum split into two and produce humanity’s biggest terror – identical twins. As long as the twins are of different sexes – a male and a female, or, a female and a male, I am fine. Anything else, never, I reiterate, never, have I been able to tell who’s who. Sample this: I have this aunt with a pair of twins. As a schoolboy (or prior to that, I don’t have any memory of it anymore) I was told that Asha akka and Usha akka were NOT identical looking twins. One was rather tall, the other was short. My mom used to plait their hair as kids, she knows perfectly well who’s who. Sis being sis, she knows too. Dad somehow manages to get them right – everytime, he escapes too. That leaves me, me alone.
Mom was right – one was always taller, the other one shorter – albeit, by no more than half an inch. You make them stand on a flat ground, next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, I can very well testify mom’s words – but again, in a free world, at home, what is the probability of finding two inmates standing next to each other, shoulder to shoulder.
These days its got a trifle easier. Over a period of time, I’ve started recognizing their kids pretty well – just walk into a wedding gathering, hunt for Abhi, he can be found under some table playing hide and seek, pull him out, pinch his ear till it turns red, spank him on his tiny buttocks – the fine lady he walks up to wailing “Ammmmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” is Asha akka. Elementary. Sometimes makes me wonder, why do girls take so long to produce their own kids.

A consequence of this is the strange inclination of being not entirely sure. You stand in the middle of the road and a fine looking girl smiles at you – the first 3 min are lost trying to make sure she is smiling at you, not your neighbour. Once confirmed, we tread confidently to the next step – trying to establish her identity.
The impulse is to walk over the girl and pronounce:
“Do we know each other?”, since that is not considered diplomatic, you start scanning your own resourceful brain.
“Pooja? Na… can’t be. The last time we met was on April 30 2007 at Shoppers Stop, she was buying a Louis Vitton bag for 3000/- and I was loafing, she obviously wouldn’t remember me now…. Manasi… Hmmm.. may be, may not be, the last time I saw her was sometime in 2005 summer, she was then pretty fair, or was she dark? But that was in Bangalore, she can’t obviously be in Hyderabad now… Hmmmm? Archana.. the last time I saw her she would’ve been some 80kg, that too in 2008, this one looks more like some 50kg, can someone lose 30 kilo in 2 years?? Doubt it… Hmmm.. Jacqueline??? But she had only a foot long hair, this one looks more like 4 feet… can’t be again..”
Even as the microscopic analysis is being done, she finally realizes that you’re a big loser and walks up to you herself.. “Hi, you don’t look very good.”.. batti jali, thats when it enters the crazed mind, but yeah, you don’t make it look obvious “Heyyyy.. hi…”.

History has been witness to an incident where I’ve walked into a congregation hosted by this particularly long lost friend – found a face vaguely familiar, horrifyingly, there were two others girls looking pretty similar (they all look similar to me). It took a concerted effort to pull the victim out of this situation – move around, admire the ceiling fan, the paper flowers hung on the walls, the real flowers hanging onto some heads – admire the heads themselves, the carriers of these heads, the frontal view of these heads – such pleasurable entities, 2 min of this false admiration, then make a call to the admirable host…
“Heyy, where are you?”
“You duffer, turn around….”
“Heyyyyy, you were at the door? I didn’t even see you…”
Duffer alright.. had she known that I was struggling to even identify her, I’m inclined to think it would have been far worse.

All said and done, as already mentioned, when it boils down to the larger picture – the MOST important things – mates, show me a picture of a man in whites holding a shapely piece of wood in hand a red blurred cherry somewhere nearby, there’s no second guessing – “Sachin Tendulkar” it is.. again, born April 24 1973, 90 centuries in international cricket – 8 more in the 90s… as they say, life goes on.


Written by Srinivas

February 21, 2010 at 2:14 pm

Posted in Fun, Uncategorized

2 Responses

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  1. Awesome post dude!
    By the way, there is something waiting for you on my blog space.. Check it out! 🙂


    March 1, 2010 at 12:31 am

  2. hehe
    I have been in similar situations quite a bit of time. one very recently 🙂


    April 28, 2010 at 4:13 pm

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