That which makes you special

       I envied a girl once who had photographic memory. She remembered everything that was said in class. Never forgot an impotant historical date, never mixed up basic chemical formulae, never stuttered during poetry recitals, and always got the highest grades in class.

       As a child I thought that she was a genius. No matter how hard anyone tried to beat her, she seemed to earn her grades effortlessly. Not that I tried too hard. But it seemed pointless, because ofcourse she would be the best. It was another excuse, in a long line of excuses, for me not to study.

      A little older, and my father convinced me that the only reason she was better was because of her gifted memory and not because of any personal talent. A little hard work on my part would enable me to beat her. Though this assurance did not immediately have any effect on my academic performance, I now viewed her through a smug veil of confidence. I was armed with the knowledge that only a little bit of hard work could make me her equal. Her superiority was a sham!

      Our 10th grade secondary exams came, and though she did far better than most of us, there were students from other schools who had done even better. My confidence took a bit of beating here. After all, this was not a school-organised exam, where the teacher's may have been partial. This was another of my secretly cherished beliefs- because of her gift, the teachers were ofcourse unfairly biased in her favour.

      Two years later, our higher secondary exams came, and though she faired quite well in these, her college entrance exam didn't go as well. Here I pointed out to myself, that she only did well where she had a given text to memorise, but not so where the questions asked were outside the prescribed syllabus.

      Maybe it is true. Maybe her memory that helped her score so well during our years in school, and now in college, will ultimately not prove to be any more valuable than any of our less obvious gifts. These gifts being, a gift of understanding, of kindness, a talent with animals, sharp eyes, a very good ear for music, excellent power of analysis, being able to keep a cool head in a crisis, the abilty to cooperate or adjust in any situation or even being a good judge of character. Maybe she will look back to these years and wonder why success at her job could not reach the heights that her academic records had predicted.

      Maybe. But I sure hope so.

      Anything above average sparks our envy, atleast it sparks mine.

      I still wish I had her memorising powers. Not because I have a horrible memory, also not so much because it would certainly shorten my studying time, but because it made her special. I want to be that special. I want that gift.

      I dont care that it might prove useless in essentials, as I keep imagining she will some day realise. It doesnt spoil my fantasy to think that the only real help it would provide is a capability to store information in my head that might easily be taken out of my laptop. I grant you that this might indeed be useful, but an unlimited storage capacity in my head alone will not help me succeed in life.

     When I think of suddenly landing with such an astounding talent for memorising, none of the drawbacks ever sully my dream.

     I read once about a girl who, when she was three years old, watched her mother accidentally set fire to herself. Her mother died, and two years later her father took an overdose. His lifeless body was found by his daughter. The girl at twenty five, still remembers both incidents in heart breaking detail.

     I have almost no memory of my childhood before the age of five. The little I remembered was made clearer by my parent's periodic reminiscences. Not that anything too traumatic or memorable happened to me in that period, but even if something had happened I would probably only have a very hazy memory of it. So, when I read about this girl I felt extremely glad for my own remembering capacity, and was for the moment thankful for what I did have.

     I dont want the scar of such horrible memories.

     Along with every sense we have, every action we are capable of, every creation that is our contribution to this world, no matter how small or big, there is always something we can't do or atleast not very well. I, like everyone around me, think of this something as a failing in me. If someone else can do it. I envy them. I dont go looking for the one thing or more he or she can't do and I can. No. I only see what I cant do and they can.

     The next time I sat down to study a rather boring and long chapter, I wished again that I had a photographic memory. I forgot every baggage that comes with an out of the ordinary gift. I forgot the balance that it seemed to interfere with, and the price to be paid. I sat looking at the pages for the next few minutes thinking of that girl from school, and envying her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Candle in the wind]

Its true with every out of the ordinary gift comes a baggage which often proves a greater burden than the laurels of the gift.Smug veil of confidence and yet the inner vulnerability is a poignant juxtaposition.