Forgetting

I was to take a flight back last week and luckily checked my purse that morning, only to find I was not carrying my house keys. It would have been a disaster arriving past 11 pm and not being able to let myself into the flat. As it happened, there is a duplicate in my office and I asked a colleague to send it across through the driver, saving myself some hassle and much embarrassment. 

I have always had a curiosity or call it fascination about the act of forgetting. From a literary point of view, an early recall is a Marathi poem we learnt in junior school called “Mama ki ainak” or Uncle’s spectacles. Uncle turned the house upside down one day and scolded all and sundry for not knowing where he had kept his spectacles. Most of the family kept a safe distance fearing his temper. At the end, the spunkiest and the youngest child pointed out that his spectacles were resting on his head! Robert Lynd’s essay on the subject is another piece I had saved for many years in a scrap book and would return to reading it occasionally. In the wonderland of Wodehouse, there was the forgetful Lord Emsworth whose mind had space for only two worthy causes – his gardening and his prize pig. All else he was susceptible to forget, providing the delightful plots for the Blanding’s series. Of the many Wodehouse stories, the one I remember best is Money in the Bank. Here Lord something-something, turned the family wealth into a stash of diamonds and hid it away, leaving a cryptic note in his diary – “money in the bank”. This in normal course would not have been a problem but, the Lord explicitly did not trust the Banks. Many delightful, Wodehouse style incidents later the true location of the diamonds turns out to be the bank of the pond at the Lord’s mansions. 

I am not a stranger to forgetful situations. I remember once, driving in for petrol at the AAEI petrol pump on Ballygunge Circular Road, topping up the tank, only to realize that I was not carrying my purse. Luckily, in those days I was working with Exide and had launched a battery branded specifically for taxis at AAEI. One of the attendants recognized me and we agreed that the money could be paid when returning from work that evening. Such an incident should have ensured that I never forgot to take my purse, but this didn’t happen. I went on to avail of services at my parlor, only to figure out I was carrying my purse but sans cash. I drove down a good five kilometers in lunch break to pick up our wedding photographs and, guess what? Again, without purse or cash! This time I wasn’t as lucky. The horrible owner refused to part with the photos till paid in FULL! 

Some days back, a lady posted on Twitter that she cannot figure out how her customers of bespoke sarees, who take a lot of effort to work out unique designs with her, manage to forget the same in the hotels they visit. Well, I have a host of stories in that line. The happier ones have been where I came home and checked immediately and could retrieve the same. Most times, I have realized only when I wanted to wear that outfit, many days later. Trident holds the gold standard in hotels for me. I once left a T-shirt there and they were kind enough to tag this to my husband’s privilege account and hand it over to him on his next visit. My pet peeve is that all Hotels should provide chargers. I am sure there are many like me who leave behind chargers that can easily provide for a back-up bank at no extra cost. 

What probably even my family doesn’t know, I once almost set a prestigious Club on fire by leaving the dry kettle on. This was in early days when kettles did not have reliable cut-offs and the room had a little note requesting that it be unplugged when not in use. They tracked me down and I had to pay damages – kettle and burnt-out socket. I considered that my lucky day!