Memory sometimes makes merciful deletions.
– H.P. Lovecraft
I don’t know what is the context to this quote, but I know that sometimes we forget some part of our memories, even when we were an active participator of that incident. Yes, memory sometimes makes merciful deletions. That is evident in my life. Do I remember what we had on the day I went travelling with a big group of people to Mahalakshmi temple and other temples and a mosque in Mumbai? No. But I do remember what I ate in breakfast before I went with with my crush to attend Kala Ghoda Festival. Most of my memories, whichever I am able to remember, are because of my emotions and feelings attached to them. This has been studied, and my memories can attest to that as well. Sometimes, I don’t remember little details that occur whenever I am with my friends or others, and it is only when they talk about it, then I am able to recapitulate it. Sometimes I am not able to, and that became evident recently. In one of the History and Philosophy of Science course’s online class, our professor was talking about the history of sanitation, and she was telling us about the sanitation history in France at the time of 17th-18th century. She told us that French people had aversion to water, and that’s why they don’t have the habit of taking baths. There was a discussion along with it, and me and my friends then had another discussion in our group chat about a guy in our class, who did not used to take bath when we were living in hostel in Mumbai. My friend mentioned that I said something sarcastic or savage related to that to that classmate in the past. After my friend said this, I was surprised that I didn’t easily remember saying that exact thing. I do remember the place where that happened, because I remembered why I was there and why that classmate was there. But I don’t remember saying anything like that. Here is the evidence of my memory making its own deletions. I have heard of DNA making its own deletions, but memory making its own deletion, the idea is kind of known, but reading the quote reminded me of the above mentioned incident.
Like DNA deletes particular genes because of environment and other causes, our memories also get deleted because of certain circumstances. Like to save ourselves from pain and hurt of that memory, we delete it. Or sometimes we don’t feel something extreme with that memory, or the emotions are not there when that incident happened, and we kind of forget about that. I have been through this, as I mentioned earlier. It also happens when we tend to forget some details, just because we felt that it was not important to us in the past. Or in the case of exams, when we tend to forget some details about a process, that we were asked in MCQ questions, and we don’t remember that detail because we felt that that was not important. That is how memory works.
I am now twenty years old, and I have realised that my memory is also selective. Now, I don’t seem to feel like remembering the names of outrageous Bollywood movie names (I mean the outrageous names of movies), because I feel that it won’t be important for me personally now and neither when I am building my friendship with other people. It was important for me to know about the outrageous Bollywood movies’ names when I was a fourteen-fifteen year old person, because I used to play Guess the Movie Name and Dumb Charades, which required those memory skills, as well as I wanted to be appreciated and to be known as the person who can guess the movie name. Yes, I was that type of person. Also, it helped me in making my friends remember me, when I was going through my all-time low. Which, now in retrospective, feels stupid to me. But that was my teenager-self.
I remember some of the incidents of my favourite books, or shows, or movies. But not everything. Some of the memories get tarnished, or like the quote says, delete itself.
That’s why I feel that it is important to have something materialistic as a memory of that incident, or a memorabilia of that memory. Like a photo, or even something like an ice-cream stick which you had while you went there. Or a bill of that place which you went to with your friends or your crush or your significant other, which you want to remember. Obviously this cannot happen with any book, movie or a show, because even when I will forget a scene, there will be the big internet that could help me in remembering it. Also, if those emotions that I feel are extreme and remembering worthy, I think I will definitely remember them.
I have also read that sometimes when you click photos so much, you lose your ability to remember that incident or that memory. When you lose those photos, you forget those memories as well. That has also happened with me. I travelled to Mumbai and Goa with my family when I was around twelve year old or around that age. We had clicked so many pictures of our travels from our own first digital camera. There were other pictures which had hard copy as well. I transferred the pictures which we clicked on our digital camera to our computer, and deleted them from the camera. A virus attack happened, and those pictures’ only copy which were in computer, got deleted. Thus, what remained was, only the memories of that travel. There was not even any physical record or travelogue of that travel done by me for my memory to keep it. What remained was those hard copies of photos on beaches and in front of The Gateway of India and Taj Mahal hotel, which we got from those photographers in front of those places. And with it, my memory lost some of the valuable memories which I thought that I will remember. I went to some of those places when I was in Mumbai for my college (now I am stuck in my house because of pandemic). That experience gave me a lesson in safe-keeping travelling pictures. It also gave me a lesson in not always clicking pictures of places where I go. It is quite a dilemma for me, who is always afraid of a possible Alzheimer’s or Dementia, and is afraid of losing all those good memories that I made when I was travelling. That’s why I try to capture those memories with my mind/brain first, then I click them. I think I can handle experiencing no emotions or feelings when I revisit any photo or a captured memory, but yes, there will be something missing when I will revisit them and I won’t experience any emotions or feelings.
Now, talking about merciful deletions, I would be grateful if my memory would be able to delete some of my embarrassing moments from my mind. Like some of the people, I would definitely love to lose some of my darkest memories as well (which are different from those embarrassing moments) so that I don’t have those memories. When I was three year old, I faced something, something bad for any person. That memory was not in my mind as I was growing up. But suddenly, I don’t remember around which age, but I knew that was also early like I was around age 9 or 10, I remembered that memory. The memory helped me in making a merciful deletion, so that I don’t feel shame or fear people in knowing that incident. But, when I was of age 9 or 10, I suddenly realised that that incident happened, and I suddenly found myself as a victim. My mind got into haywire. I did not share that memory with my parents because I knew that that is not something I can share with them easily. Now, a decade later or so, I sometimes feel that whether my mind was just making up that memory, or did that actually happened. I did think of myself as a victim for sometime, and I still do, but I have come a long way in telling myself that I was a child. I did not knew. Also, if you have not got clarity as to what I faced or what happened, I am sorry for not saying it in clear terms. Because I still don’t know whether that actually happened or not and I think I can share in this vague terms only. It still weighs heavily on me, and it become quite hard for me to actually consider myself as a victim, even when I know that perhaps society will see me as a victim. But my morals does not think that. My justice value does not think that, and I know that it will be hard for me to actually accept that. But like other people, I choose to ignore it, and it is only sometimes I face that memory and the shame it brings to me. Like now, when I am mentioning that incident in very vague terms. By the way, nor I murdered people, neither I killed any animal.
So, I am sometimes happy for that merciful deletion, that keeps my bad parts away from me. I know that it is not a good way of coping with things, but I am trying to live my life, and sometimes to live my daily life, I need to not remember those memories. Now, those memories are at the back of my mind, kept in a secret place, and my memory tries hard to not recapitulate them. I am grateful for it. Sometimes, it feels bad to always keep thinking of myself as a victim. For all those deserving of those mental health services, and those people requiring them, I feel somewhat of an imposter.
I read this quote yesterday in the newspaper. When I read this quote, it suddenly made me remember my own set of memories, that I am not able to forget, but kept in a secret drawer of my mind. Those memories that would forever haunt me, and I will be grateful if they would mercifully delete themselves. Also, the quote reminded me of all those merciful deletions that it did, but later resurfaced. I was of this opinion, that if I forget the memories, let me forget all those bad memories, that haunt me whenever I hear that type of news. Though I wanted to retain all the good memories that I went through. There were some of the memories that I remember when I travelled Mumbai and Goa, and those were mostly embarrassing and bad memories. But there were good memories as well, which I don’t clearly remember. So sometimes I do curse my memory for remembering them and to forget the others. Later on, now, I have realised that I cannot forget those bad memories, because sometimes those good memories are dependent on those bad memories, and if I would not have experienced those bad memories, I would not have experienced those good memories as well. Those good memories would lose their relevance. Like, I would never want to erase my memories of my crush rejecting me, and me mistaking his good intentions as a senior for his fondness for me, and my naivety at making that mistake. But then, when I will lose those memories, I will also lose all those good memories that I made with him. Those memories still embarrass me though, and I don’t allow myself to indulge in them for more than one minute. It can come in passing, and go in passing. But I know, those memories are important for me to grow as a person.
I would like to end this long article/rant/opinion piece/viewpoint/thought/musing on a small incident that I still remember from my travel to Mumbai. We were travelling in a package tour, where a bus let us travel through all the important tourist places in Mumbai. We went to the famous temple of Lord Ganesha in Mumbai and we had few minutes to see the temple. It was crowded as usual. After we saw the idol of Ganesha, we were supposed to take the prasad. It would take a lot of time standing in queue, so my mother told me to take prasad by cutting line. I don’t exactly remember the particulars as to why I cut the line and I am unsure about my mother’s involvement as well. But I know for sure, that the person who was giving the prasad, got really angry at me for cutting the line. It was really crowded at the prasad center, and he really got angry at me. I was not given the amount of prasad that everyone was given. When I returned back to the bus after getting the tiny amount of the prasad, I was teary-eyed. Because the person got angry because of me as I cut the line. Adults around me were doing it, and they were not punished like me. It seemed unfair to a child like me, and I was deeply troubled by it through out the day. I really hope that I forget that memory, because that memory scars me sometimes. I don’t like cutting the queue, and trust me, I do it when I think that it is okay to do so. But that memory has left such a deep imprint on me that I can’t help but feel immense guilty whenever I cut the line. Thankfully, that bad memory did not intervene in me enjoying my second visit to the temple when I legally became an adult. I enjoyed the second visit, but I was wary of the queue and the prasad givers. I guess it was my own version of PTSD.
In conclusion, memories are such dynamic things with feelings and experiences, which consists of the incidents that happened, and our brain remembering them because of the neurochemical transmitters and the neurons. It gets stored in our brain like a thing stored in drawers or rooms, and is then brought out whenever we need them. Sometimes, they come out themselves, like things spilling out of drawers, or things coming out of filled room. It is even hard to remove some of them from the drawers or room, unlike the memory of the computer. The only thing that can happen to them is that they can be forgotten in the drawers and room of our mind. But like I said, our brain is a dynamic organ and such dynamic entities, like the memories are always made by them.
I got busy with my life, and I was not getting any topic to write upon. My college will be reopening soon for the new semester, and everything will go online, again. I am sick of this online thing, but I am persevering and hope to do that for coming four months. By the way, how is this article/ rant/opinion piece/viewpoint/thought/musing? Please do comment! Positive criticism will be appreciated.
Musings of an Anonymous Indian 
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