I never use bookmarks. And I never remember the page I left the book at last. So I invariably end up reading the last few pages again. It does not bother me. I like it, in fact. In my mind, the story could not have paused at where I left. I can’t start afresh from that very point. I need to know what happened before.

I don’t bookmark my past either. To me a memory is never just the moment. It’s not just a fight, but also the day before the fight of building of the tension and the make-up after the fight. Not just a kiss, but playing a favourite CD on the system and switching on the romantic lamp-lights, the touch of the hand on the cheek and the look in the eyes before the kiss.

Perhaps I don’t believe in defined beginnings or endings. Just random snatches defined by chance.