Remembering April 25
Some memories are hard to forget; especially memories of bad days, because some memories are like stains on your best shirt; it’s difficult to wash them away.
A nightmare that I have often dreamt, since the quake, is of crumbling houses, rattling buildings, showering dust and silt. In these dreams, I am usually dismayed by the suddenness of the quivering; I am always trying to get hold of my family amidst a panicky crowd. In these dreams, I am panting, sweating, terrified, and completely confused.
The memory of the April earthquake certainly has left a big mark in all our lives, and even if we wish to forget it, our subconscious will never fail to remind us of the horror time and again. However, a year has come to pass, and since then, a lot of things have changed.
But it’s important to consider the weight of this reminder, because they are what teach us to be ready; they are what drives us to work hard; they are what gives sense to our lives; they are what pushes us to make things right. In this case, most of us have become more serious with our lives; we have become more mature, and we are persevering to regain what we have lost.
The heritage, which otherwise were just mere structures to us, have become more valuable. The culture we didn’t give much of a thought to, has become more sentimental for us. In some ways, the earthquake of April 25 has taught us all something or the other. It has reminded us how feeble our lives are, and yet so powerful.
And, so, I guess, it’s okay to remember these memories; sometimes it’s okay to be okay with the stains in our best shirt.