The essence of life is
memories. These are memories that we hold on to, no matter what. These are
recollections that has helped us to be who we are from who we were, or who we
used to be. These are recollections of fragmented memoirs that continually
haunt us as it continually defines and redefines our lives.

Today, Pratik was lost in
these very memories. Memories of himself and his Beloved—a flashback of how
time ceased to tickle when they were together; flashback of how Pratik, now,
upon recollections, wished the time to cease forever—back to the eternal,
blissful past.
Beloved’s voice then spoke
from within, “But what if memories were hurtful Pratik? What if events were not
the way they are now?” Pratik’s eyes widened, softened and moistened while it
stayed firm on its decision. Pratik could never digest such words from his Beloved.
She had always been his inspiration, and when his inspiration seemed to dessert
hope, he was destitute. Pratik had dedicated everything he had achieved so far
to his Beloved. Had it not been for her, he knew that he would never be where
he now was. She had seen him rise and fall. She had seen him run barefooted to
catch the sun. She had pushed him to follow his heart, watched his back and
held him when he stumbled. She had loved him, in joy and in anger—equally, and
more—every day. “Tell me Pratik, what would you do if memories were hurtful
Pratik?” Beloved’s voice spoke from within.
Immediately Pratik regretted his
wild imaginations and tried to flush them out of his mind but it stayed;
waiting and longing for an answer. “Beloved, no memories ever hurt me because you
have been always there. There are no single memories where I have been alone.
You have always been my savior and my inspiration.”
