Or, The Questionable Purpose of Remembering Someone asked, ‘Do you want to be remembered?’ I smiled at that text. I was already surprised to find someone who openly talks in terms of love and loneliness and also, likes psychoanalysing people. His question took me back to the time I told my teacher that I couldn’t bear the idea of being forgotten by him. I think I meant to tell him that he made a difference in my life and I want him to know that. I do this if I can, let people know what they mean to me (might seem creepy and unnecessary). Yet for reasons I don't quite understand, I was driven crazy by the thought that I might not matter to people who matter to me. Those days! My smile got wider as I typed, ‘No, not anymore.’ I was glad that he didn’t ask, ‘What changed?’ I don’t have an answer to that. If I had a tagline it’d be, I drink coffee (not anymore, damn you, lockdown!) and I remember things. I remember events from my life believing they were huge for others. For