Maybe it is better to remain forgotten than to be remembered. This solitary thought lingers fondly as I reflect on the penultimate chapter of my second memoir about our Satyam days. (Between this and the last piece, there may be two more parts.)
I humbly confess my eager heart doesn't know how to let go of those lovely memories, but in the desirable end, I'm sincerely convinced I'm not the last one standing, so to speak, who is totally into this. My former friends, too, I am sure, retain a happy recollection of those memorable Satyam days just as I do, and it would be wondrous to know what they recollect about those glorious days of more than twenty-five advancing years ago.
Even though ample time has passed, the nostalgia for those heady times stoically endures. After all, it is a compelling story filled with exquisite moments of profound self-reflection, lasting memories of my beloved friends from Satyam, and brief revelations about specific emotions I had previously been unaware of. These cherished memories have occupied my private thoughts ever since I left Satyam. Written prolifically over several months, I admit thoughtfully that I didn't even realize how self-indulgent I had been while writing my Satyam memoir.
But I still can't make myself forget the eclectic recollections of those Satyam days, which have been deeply ingrained in my thoughts, never fading from memory ever since I left Satyam. Today, as I get older, I still feel like devoutly clinging to the past (foolishly? Maybe not) in a way that I'm unable to let go of my earlier memories about my Satyam experience, contrary to what rational people opine that one really shouldn't.
(But I can vouch for the fact that among all my Satyam friends, I may not be the only one who is into the business of recalling memories, that is, recalling past experiences into one's close conscious awareness; others are just as nostalgically inclined about it as I like to be, more often than not.)
Unable to shirk free of the cherished times that ultimately exist as prized possessions, my heart longs for every waking day of its little-known history, as it were, trying to remember everything of those extraordinary IT years, forgetting nothing. Having had the good fortune to share with you, I'm overwhelmed by nostalgia for a sweet old time that has faded into the unknown, anonymity—being (needlessly?) nostalgic for a lost time that had phased out and gone forever into history unsung, destined to be slowly but surely forgotten and remain unrecalled perhaps for all time to come. Hopefully not.
[However, perhaps old memories die hard, and the powers of recalling those that gently let us reflect on the glory days we held close to our patient hearts for so long and for great reasons known and unknown after we left Satyam in the early two-thousands. After all, there are some unbreakable bonds we leave behind, never mind that all my super social Satyam friends have moved away: some to foreign countries while others continue to be incommunicado, married, and have their kids, living a family life. Now, it's only me and my strange forlorn thoughts (and my usual cup of tea!) keeping me company, spoiling me rotten while I attend to my family. But those friends are not coming back; they are gone away and will not return, broken free from the shackles of the past times we have shared so much of. None of us can forget anyone, as we all have left our bonds behind at the juncture from where we parted one by one: the bonds of enduring desire for each other's friendship we had at our former company, Satyam Computers — the name itself is enough to bring back memories. Each of us has gone to battle with the world; perhaps I ought to follow suit the way they do. It has become increasingly nastier for everyone to pick their own battles and face the hard realities of life. They say: The world is your oyster. Is it so? I seriously doubt it, though. But at the end of the day, we are all in this together, aren't we?
Reminiscing fondly as a former roaming division team as if still going strong, just like in those days, all the wonderful days we have been privileged to experience deeply. These are barely spoken words, a heart's quiet echoes, for what's left behind, for what's to carry forever into the coming times and the future beyond, which is moving away from the past even as the present appears to be in a constant abysmal stupor that doesn't feel quite relatable. Words are all we possess, and all those memories, I promise, will last for a lifetime.]
True, it is better to remain forgotten than to be forced to remember. Now I understand perfectly fine. We all parted, I think, forever, but we did so happily, knowing that friendships ebb and flow and have had their seasons, just as people's lives change and adapt to new stages as and when they come. So, let's be happy for each other because the feeling of continuing a lifelong friendship matters more than the years we've lost contact.
As for me, letting go of the past has always been difficult and impossible even to think of. Hence, I shall carry on remembering the fallen leaves in the garden of whispering memories, having a nostalgic bent of mind and a heart full of memories that never relent. I'd like to believe that I'm not alone in feeling this way, despite being solitary right now, in this quest for an inner yearning for the times we've yielded to the world's goings-on: to go forward in time as each year goes by. Time passed, and everything changed. For as long as I can remember, remembrances of our Satyam days have shaped my thoughts and emotions like tiny whispers of dreamy, melodic beauty echoing through all my days now, twinkling down in love, hidden forever in the stardust of the past times we once shared all those years ago.
“Kisi baat par main kisi se khafa hoonMain zinda hoon par zindagi se khafa hoonHo khafa hoon, khafa hoon, khafa hoon…”
An Afterthought:
In the late 1990s and early 2000s, many parents hoped (sometimes even hunted for some) that their daughters would marry software techies, resulting in software engineers or IT professionals (hardware techies, poor fellows, had no chance for consideration!) becoming highly sought-after marriage potentials. However, this dynamic, not without the usual high drama accompanying it, mind you, had been altered significantly in the twenty-first century.
But still, the concept of matrimonial alliances has become more than anything you can comprehend or relate to: software engineers are no longer the hot potato they once royally were. These expectations now have become fearfully extreme in setting unrealistic expectations for the grooms before and after marriage, such as substantial salary earnings, owning a lavish house or luxury apartment: preferably a condo, well-furnished to the teeth, and the intolerable preference for the newly married couple to live apart from the groom’s parents right away!
This all-or-nothing approach has eliminated the fairy tale aspect of "the marriage of true minds," creating a false sense of security for grooms seeking a life partner, only to be disillusioned when reality catches up with them. That’s just how it is.
(To be continued…)
By Arindam Moulick
“Khafa Hoon Khafa Hoon” song from the Bemisal (1982) film is voiced by Kishore Kumar.