The Memory Slips of Youth

Why is forgetfulness connected only with age? A fun look at how youth could have its forgetful moments too. 

I was in my early twenties at the time, more  than sixty-five years ago, posted in Ootacamund in Tamil Nadu. My wife had gone to her father’s place for a brief stay. I spent most evenings at the Lawley institute with a couple of friends. It was a nice little club, with a kitchen that served wholesome and tasty snacks and meals in the mornings and evenings. A friendly crowd--people of all ages, men and women--mixing freely would gather there every evening. A cozy auditorium screened films, generally English, every Saturday, and was an added attraction. 

One day I was introduced in the institute to a young man, the special correspondent of a leading newspaper. He was an interesting fellow and we kept on talking animatedly, well into the evening, exchanging jokes over several cups of tea before we parted.  It must have been two months later that a dapper young man greeted me in the Institute, calling me by name. I was surprised he knew my name and it was awkward to make conversation with a stranger. I excused myself to visit the bathroom where I could gather my thoughts and hopefully recall the stranger’s identity. Passing through one of the rooms leading to the bathroom, I dragged with me my colleague who could possibly be of help.

As soon as we were inside the room, I asked my colleague in a low whisper, ‘who is this new chap who seems so friendly though I have no clue as to who he is?’ Before I could complete my sentence, a heavy hand came down on my shoulder. It was the stranger. “You have forgotten me so soon, Mr Srinivasan”, he said, “It was only two months ago that we spent a long time here talking about old times. My recall was instantaneous. “Oh yes!”, I exclaimed, “The newspaper man.”  I could have dropped dead with shame. The excuse of fading memory with old age was not available to me then!

I have always proclaimed that I never forget faces and names. But every statement has its exceptions. Here is one more of a different kind. The person in question was someone with whom I used to play billiards regularly when we were both in college. Fifteen years later, we met again in Mumbai when he barged in one day into the room of the manager of my bank, a school buddy with whom I was sitting. He slapped me hard on my back and said, ‘Nice to see you here Srinivasan after so many years. How is the family and what do you do?’ I  remembered the billiards table meetings but not his name and, for that matter, any other details about him but he rattled off almost everything about me, my father, sister, my other friends and so on. Embarrassed by his enthusiasm, I managed to get out of the bank hurriedly, inventing an important appointment. 

That night I could not sleep, all the while trying to recall the fellow’s name. It was midnight when it came in a flash. I jumped out of bed and woke up my wife to announce my discovery. As it happened, I found him  in the bank the next day too, a Saturday afternoon when the bank was closed to the public. You can imagine the mutual back slapping and endless sipping of coffee that followed, while the tolerant manager looked on in amusement!  The evening wore on and with the bank staff getting restless to go home and we had to leave too!    

A passing thought: I myself am now past ninety! We often blame old age for forgetfulness and assume that all elders would necessarily be forgetful. Isn’t it unfair to them given that memory can fail us suddenly at a younger age too?