KARACHI:
“The older I get, the more clearly I remember the things that never happened.” Often (perhaps dubiously) attributed to Mark Twain, this quote captures the whimsical truth of ageing. At 77, I have learned that memory loss doesn’t just bring frustration — it delivers some truly hilarious moments. Before I share a recent one, let me quote Ustad Qamar Jalalvi’s beautiful couplet that captures the melancholy of growing older:
Peeri se kham kamar mai nahin zouf se Qamar,
Mai jhuk kai dhoondta hun jawani kidhar gaee
The other day, I had a good laugh — at myself. I was planning to write some Urdu poetry, the kind that demands enhanced focus, beginning with finding my elusive reading glasses. I scoured my bedroom, riffled through drawers, lifted cushions like a fidgety child, and even peeked inside the fridge (don’t ask why). Convinced I was the victim of a mysterious household conspiracy, I finally called in my better half. She listened patiently, studying me with a curious expression, and then suddenly burst into laughter. I blinked with a blank look — until she pointed to my right hand. There they were — my reading glasses — clutched with the desperation of a man holding a life-support device in a state of frenzy. For a moment, I felt embarrassed and humiliated. Was this forgetfulness? Age catching up? Or just the new normal? But I quickly turned my humiliation into amusement. After all, what is ageing if not a series of harmless, hilarious misadventures?
This reminded me of my late boss, Col Khurshid Alam Naz, a warm-hearted, affable gentleman I had the pleasure of working with at Pakistan Petroleum Limited for many years. He proudly claimed a phenomenal memory — yet would often follow up minutes later with, “Haroon, what were we discussing?” His self-deprecating humour and natural charm made even forgetfulness feel like a dignified art.
They say memory is the first thing to go. I say, if you can still laugh at yourself, you are doing just fine. In an age of cloud backups and voice assistants, perhaps our brains have simply decided to outsource the small stuff — like where we put our glasses. So, if you find yourself searching high and low for something already in your hand, don’t panic or get embarrassed. Laugh it off! You are in excellent company. And maybe, it is not memory loss — it is simply a temporary glitch in the neuro-coordination between body and mind.
Let me conclude with a verse I wrote under a different set of circumstances — well before reaching the twilight years — but which now resounds more than ever:
Sab kutch wohi hai lekin bus itna taghaful hai,
Kutch yaad nahin aata kutch yaad nahin kartay
Haroon Rashid Siddiqi
Karachi
