Most nights, as I stand at the washbasin brushing my teeth, a habit that I have recently cultivated due to my desire for maintaining my teeth in a state of steak-compatibility till such a time as I myself turn into a piece of steak, I realize that I remember absolutely nothing of what transpired during the day.
In fact, my last recollection of having indulged in any kind of activity during the day is when I brushed my teeth in the morning. Thus, to me, my days appear to consist of teeth-brushing in the morning, followed by something that apparently takes up 16 hours of my time but leaves behind no memories and then it's back to teeth-brushing again at night.
As I lie on my death bed and historians who've made it their life's mission to chronicle my adventures wail out their eulogies, they will say of me that I was a diligent teeth-brusher, that I scrubbed my teeth to hygienic perfection, that I made them glisten and shine. They will admiringly recount how I maintained myself in a state of impeccable oral health and that I used Aquafresh because I was impressed by how its three different ingredients with three different colors (not including white) magically collaborated together in my mouth to give it that icy-fresh sensation while also wreaking havoc on the germs within. They will claim that my practice of using mouth-wash after the teeth-brushing further imparted a fragrance to my mouth that made breathing into my hands the pleasure of a lifetime. And finally, they will celebrate the fact that I tried not to waste any water, that I turned off the faucet while brushing my teeth, as opposed to keeping it running all the time, thus leaving some of that life-giving liquid for those thirsty tribes in Africa.
But history will remain silent on the portion of my life not dedicated to teeth-brushing. Whatever occurred during that period will remain shrouded in mystery. And no one, not even I, will ever come to know about the person that I was, the lives that I affected, the jewish infants that I saved from circumcision or the Komodo dragons that I slayed during the period of my life that wasn't spent standing at my washbasin brushing my teeth.
It is a pity, really.
2 comments:
Maybe it is a mystery best left unsolved. Until those dead bodies start getting piled up in your basement.
-naveen.
naveen : yes i agree. although since i don't have a basement i wonder whose basement they would be piling in.
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