Memories are a great relaxant

A thoroughly bored gentleman decided one morning to go through some letters, which he has been carrying for more than 20 years.

He landed on one of them, written to him 12 years ago. He read it once, twice, thrice, four times. He couldn’t have enough of the long letter. It was long, but engrossing and intense. Its innocent tone was like a child’s, but not childish. It was loaded and passionate, but not risque. The letter was an unfailing prescription for selfless bliss.

The maniacal rereading of the letter brought back deep and wonderful memories. He said they left him absolutely refreshed for months to come. He said that’s the reason he always cherished memories.

He said they left him absolutely refreshed for months to come.

They kept him going. Every time he felt low he recalled some of the lines in the letter. 

Memories indeed keep lives moving.

I know a lady, who visits her husband’s grave on the 21st of each month, because he left the mortal world on a 21st. She is 48 and has been visiting him for the last six years. She returns home and writes about her feelings in a diary.

Memories can be really uplifting. In search of it, a friend flew for an hour and a half to reach a particular city in India. He checked into a hotel. Next morning he hired a car to go to a coffee shop on a hilltop. When at the café he took pictures, walked around and then had the same coffee he had had a decade ago. He said he sat there for more than two hours.

He said his friend had invited him there for coffee years ago. They had spent nearly four hours. The place had gradually turned into a regular rendezvous. It was normal for them to drink from each other’s cup and share cookies and philosophical lines from well-known writers. They were barrelling through their moments of togetherness like a whirlwind till destiny turned satanic. Their cups turned empty and the froth was left to stare at the rims. The coffee shop was called Utopia.