Wednesday, December 25, 2013


I get to travel a lot around the city as a part of my new job.

Bangalore is a huge city.

There are places here that I didn’t know existed, this I say with a tongue in my cheek.
I have lived here all my life, my lack of knowledge of the place where I live is my own doing.

Spending close to a couple of hours on the road everyday offers me a chance to see the city in a way I have never seen it before.

I wish there was some device that I could be attached to my spectacle frame so that I can capture the beautiful sights I see all around me.

Wait a minute! Beautiful sights ?

Are you still talking about Bangalore city man? You may want to ask me.

Let me clarify myself, I’m not talking about the lakes in our city that are all almost gone or the gardens and the parks that are under constant threat. I am also not referring to the long lines of traffic piled up on every junction, the construction work at every corner that never seems to end, or the small blotches of the blackish phlegm I cough up every time I return home from a ride on my bike thanks to all the polluted air i have inhaled over the course of the day.

As I write this post from my clinic in the middle of the city surrounded by a concrete jungle I’m hinting at some of those things I see every once in a while that makes me want to pause and absorb the moment in for just a little while longer before it passes.

Just yesterday morning on my way to work I saw one of the cutest things I have seen in a long time.
A father was driving his daughter to school on his scooter.

The daughter, the prettiest little girl was gripping her father from the back seat, burying her chubby face into his back, trying to fall asleep least bothered about the world around her, there was a sense of peace, satisfaction and safety in her sleepy face that occasional turned from one side to the other reflecting most undoubtedly the unblemished trust she had in her father.

As her tiny fingers held on to her dad I knew that in her little mind she knew without a shadow of a doubt that her father will keep her safe no matter what trouble came along their way.

I drive along and a few kilometers later I see my favorite couple of all time.

Mr and Mrs. Brown.

Mr. Brown (yes, that’s actually his name) is an 85 year old ex army man who lives at Vidyaranyapuram, Every morning he takes a walk with his wife who is also in her early 80’s.

After my wrist watch ceased working for the 100th time this year I stopped wearing watches altogether, and yet I know I am on time whenever I see this couple walking down the road.

Not a wise thing to set your days timing in accordance with the morning walk of an elderly couple Thomas you may suggest. But trust me when I say this, they are never late, never.

But wait, its not their strict adherence to time that piques my interest.

Its something else.

Mr. Brown walks with a stick his son gifted him on his 80th birthday, How do I know this ? He regularly checks his blood sugars at our lab and he is quite the conversationalist.

He takes measured steps when he walks, leaning on his stick from time to time, Mrs Brown walks beside him she is always holding his arm, sometimes gently resting her cheek on his drooping shoulder, wearing the same expression as the child on the scooter on her wrinkled yet beautiful face.

She doesn’t trust in anyone as much as she does in her 85yr old husband to whom she has been married for 52 years.

It warms my heart every time I see them.

Today is Christmas.

In the birth of Jesus lies another perfect example of pure undeterred trust.

Jesus came into the world knowing full well that his father had a plan that would save mankind but put him through unimaginable pain and suffering, but he went through it all, he trusted his dad, and everything worked out just fine.

I know trusting someone without fear, without doubt can be very difficult, especially in today’s world where everyone is trying to get ahead at any cost even if it means having to steal, cheat, show no remorse for our mistakes, no guilt for our wrongdoing, and no mercy for the weak and the ones without help.

It may lead us to believe that life as a whole is tedious and monotonous, where good people always finish last and we are all just ebbing away as days go past.

Well while life may seem so bleak it is not so.

My Christmas message to you all is this –

"You were made for a reason, and your life no matter who you are or where you’re from or what you do is not without meaning or purpose".

I know it’s true….Just, trust me !

Wish You All A Very Merry Christmas and A Blessed New Year !

Your’s truly

Friday, November 22, 2013

The Guardian Angel...

‘Preethi Sagar’- the oldest restaurant in our locality has been closed for almost a decade, in its glory days it was a place to reckon, now that the roads are being widened the building is being taken down piece by piece.

As I walk past this structure which has probably been reduced to rubble by the time you read this, I am reminded of all the evenings I spent here gorging on hot samosas and masala dosa’s as a kid, but as the saying goes, ‘the old must make way for the new’.

I know where I’m headed - the grocery store (again, the oldest in my neck of the woods), I am absolutely sure that the store is out of milk, but since I conveniently forgot to buy it in the morning I have no choice but to keep looking. There’s a song stuck in my head, I am neither able to stop it from playing nor am I able to recollect the correct lyrics so I’m just humming the tune to myself trying to be as discrete as possible.

I become acutely aware of the fact that my phone is back at home and somehow I am damn sure that this one hour window is going to be the time that everyone is going to want to call me.

I suddenly notice a silvery sparkly thing lying on the road, I pause to look at it and then I realize it’s just the wrapper of a chocolate turned upside down, I start walking again and then it happens-

A multitude of branches from an old tree at the junction come crashing to the ground.
I stare at them from a distance not more than five feet away, for a moment the busy world around me pauses, the windshields of the cars parked below are smashed and so are the mirrors on the motorcycles underneath.
It takes me a while but when I finally return to my senses I take a deep breath and sigh heavily knowing fully well that if not for the silver foil on the street that caused me a delay of a few seconds I would have been seriously injured.

I look around to find the distraction that apparently saved my life but I cant find it, its gone.

There are days while I’m riding my bike when I feel tempted to give into the feeling of letting go of the brakes and pulling down on the accelerator.

The music in my ears, the palpable rumble of the engine, the wind blowing gently against my body, The perfect setting that creates a feeling that nothing could possibly  go wrong and as I am about to make a wide angled turn on the highway a voice tells me to slow down, I don’t want to, I really don’t , but the voice inside is persistent, so I slow down and just around the corner I see a broken down truck that I would most certainly have rammed into if I hadn’t reduced my speed.
So I wonder, Where do these distractions arise, where does that inner voice come from?

What keeps you from falling when you suddenly trip over a stone in the middle of the street?

Is it just a heightened sense of proprioception or is there an invisible hand reaching out to hold you just as your face is about to hit the ground.

I asked this same question once and person at the receiving end of my query was a man whom I have come to respect a lot over the years that have passed.

Jose Ettan. 
WhenI first met him he was pursuing an MBA at Christ University Bangalore, It was the Jesus Youth annual retreat called ‘Harvest’ and He was sharing with us the story of his life.

It was an incredible story, dealing with homelessness, poverty, hunger, an abusive step father and a baby sister he had to take care of right  from the tender age of 5 years Jose ettan had seen it all and survived it all and for the most part of it he did it with a smile on his face.

As he stood on the stage that day and praised God for all that he has been through and what it has all led him to now I couldn’t help but stand up and ask him what gave him the courage to go through all this pain and suffering.

He looked at me and said, “During those tough times My mother would cheer me up by telling me that everyone has a Guardian angel watching over them, keeping them safe, and that belief kept me from feeling alone all my life”.

For some reason the skeptic in me refrained from disagreeing with him, somewhere deep down inside I knew there was some truth in what Jose Ettan was saying.

Rob Zemeckis ‘Castaway’ is a truly remarkable film.
Following its release the film drew praise from the audience and critics alike.

Tom Hanks’s portrayal of Chuck Noland - a man in the best years of his life, stranded all alone on an island following a plane crash brought in rave reviews.

I actually watched the film the first time expecting a ‘Robinson Crusoe’ like story filled with adventure and thrill but to my dismay the film was completely the opposite, understandably, as a kid, I was disappointed.

I felt compelled to watch this film again a few days back.
This time around, things were a lot different.

I realized that this film was more than just a tale of survival, it was a deep examination of life and its pursuits, an attempt at understanding the meaning of some things that seem purposeless at first but eventually form the basis of our existence.

While on the Island there are three things keeping Chuck alive, the hope of returning home to his loving fiancé-Kelly, an unopened package with a unique symbol on it that he hopes to deliver after he is rescued, and Wilson- a volleyball turned friend whom chuck converses with.

No rescue team arrives and four years go by.

He still holds on to the time piece with his fiancés picture in it, Wilson is still around and the package with the symbol is still unopened.

One morning a large part of a portable toilet washes up on the island; Chuck uses it as a sail in the construction of a raft and heads out into the ocean, a storm nearly tears his raft apart.

The following day, "Wilson" falls from the raft and is lost, leaving Chuck overwhelmed by loneliness.
Wilson !
He weeps bitterly and throws the oars into the ocean.
It’s obvious that He has finally given up.

A cargo ship finds Chuck a few hours later and rescues him
There’s a huge crowd waiting for him as he arrives back on land, he doesn’t care much for them, there is only one person his eyes are searching for - Kelly, but she is not there, Chucks old dentist shows up instead, and guess what  Kelly is married to him and they have a kid.

One evening Chuck decides to meet Kelly.

He arrives at her doorstep drenched in the heavy rain that is pouring outside.

She lets him in, the tension in the room is palpable as they both struggle with the uncomfortable silence inside.

Chuck doesn’t complain, or fight or accuse Kelly of anything, he just listens to her as she starts talking about her family and her attempts to find Chuck after the plane crash.

I realize something right then.
I understand why Chuck looks to be at peace.

I guess its because - When you truly love someone all you want is for them to be happy even if it does not mean that they get to be with you.

It’s getting late now and chuck decides to leave, Kelly gives him the key to his old car and he starts to drive away.

She chases him down the road and they kiss, they profess their love for each other but, realizing a future together would be impossible due to her commitment to her family, they part

With Wilson gone and Kelly a part of someone else’s life Chuck has only one thing left to do.

In the last scene we see him on his way to delivering the package that gave him a reason to survive all these days, he stands outside the door of the farmhouse, nobody’s home.
He writes the words ‘This package saved my life” on a note and leaves the package at the door.

We now see him standing at a crossroads; he is wondering where to go.

A pickup truck comes along and pulls over near him, a woman steps out and gives him all possible directions explaining which road lead to where, Chuck thanks her, and she leaves.

As the truck drives away he notices the same symbol embossed on the rear of the truck that was on the package he’d just delivered, and he smiles.

The symbol my friends was a pair of angel wings.

It’s probably just the sentimental idiot in me talking, but maybe, just maybe, in some part of the world, at some quiet corner there is someone watching over you and me, maybe all our trials and triumphs and failures in life are all about finding our way towards that one guardian angel who will show us where to go and give us a reason to stick around.

To everyone like me who is in pursuit of that special someone, here's what Chuck Noland and I have to say-

 “You keep living, you keep breathing, cause tomorrow the sun will rise, and you never know what the tide may bring in”.

Until Next Time


Friday, October 11, 2013


It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, I am exhausted from doing nothing.

I have been saving the DVD of the movie Lootera for a day like this.

Vikramaditya Motwane’s Udaan was an enjoyable film.
I was curious to see how a director who had just made one of the best Indian ‘coming off age’ movies could make a high budget period romance, that too with such overwhelming critical acclaim.

The movie starts and drags along. I am impressed by the lead pair, frustrated by the pace and disappointed by the direction the film seems to be taking in the second half, then I see the female protagonist lying in her death bed looking out of the window in her room at a tree watching the leaves fall.
A Scene from the film 

Just then I have a flashback, like a bolt from the blue.

I am transported to a world that existed 15 years ago.

It’s the post lunch session of our class, I am in the seventh grade, Harleen Kaur The girl with a golden tooth is asking me a doubt in algebra, I am amused by the way she keeps reffering to it as alzebra again and again.

Chaos everywhere, the class is being ripped apart by joyful screams emerging from all four corners of the room, a small group of boys is playing a game called ‘Chungi’ which is nothing but kicking a small circular string of cut rubber pieces of a cycle tyre tied together into a ball like form against the wall.

Sudden rush of adrenaline, I throw Harleen’s Alzebra book in the air and start screaming meaningless words into the air.

Harleen is stunned, she picks up her book and in the most unexpected twist rips it to shreds and starts screaming with me.

We both rush to the small stage of the class like a couple of drug addicts run amok and start hauling everyones bags and water cans and tiffin boxes.

Before we know it, we have gone from being a mad couple to a full fledged mob.

Madness ensues, Puneet takes out a bottle of ink and smashes it on the floor, two others follow suit.

Jyotsana is not allowing anyone to touch her bag, so Priya starts pulling her hair, Neha stealthily snatches her bag from below and more books go flying into the unsuspecting air above.

Within minutes there is nothing left to throw or break in the room, 

Sunil the one we called the silent one gets up from his seat and rushes to the back of the room, yanking out the large steel dustbin he screams “Freedom, I love my mommy” !!! And he bathes himself with all the junk inside.

The whole class laughs.

We are barely seconds away from starting to pounce at each other when Miss Vibha our class teacher enters the room.

The chaos ends, we find ourselves in unbelievably awkward positions.

Sunil’s mouth is open and a piece of paper is sticking out of it, we all stand motionless.

Miss Vibha stares at us with utter disbelief, she probably  blamed herself for our behaviour, first of all by announcing her engagement and subsequent resignation from the school she had gone ahead and broken the hearts of the 30 odd boys in the class who were madly in love with her and secondly her last class was a graphic depiction of the battle of panipat, a deadly combination I must say.

She pauses, we wait for her next move, we stay still even the muscles on our faces are contracted, its so quiet that I bet I can hear the sounds of a few eyelids twitch.

Harleen looks at me scornfully, I know what she’s trying to tell me – Its all your fault fatso !

And then Miss Vibha laughs.

We loved the way she laughed and it melted our hearts like a piece of wax.

“Clean everything up and I’ll tell you a nice story”. She says and takes her seat .

Vibha miss was the best story teller in the world and it took us less than five minutes to put things back in order.

“So, you’re ready”? She asks us, getting up from her seat.

“Yes Miss”. We reply in chorus

“There was once an artist from Greenwich Village named Behrman who lived in the same building as two of his two friends Johnsy and Sue”.

“Behrman was very protective of his friends but he didn’t like to show it, he dreamt of painting a masterpiece someday but never did anything towards that end in years”.

“He is a lazy fellow, just like you Thomas”. Vibha miss says pointing at me.

The class laughs, I’m not offended at all, and I blush uncontrollably.

“Johnsy was sick, very sick, dying of pneumonia, and she claimed that she would die when the last leaf falls off of a vine outside her window”.

Sue told this to Behrman who laughed it off as an irrational thought; yet he decides to see both Johnsy and the vine.

In the night, a very bad storm comes and wind is howling and rain is splattering against the window.

Miss Vibha moved to and fro in the class enacting the whole scene outside Johnsy’s window, like I said earlier she was a wonderful story teller.

We were all lost in deep thought, worried about Johnsy.
“The storm is raging outside but Sue closes the curtains and tells Johnsy to go to sleep, even though there is still one leaf left on the vine”.

Johnsy protests but Sue insists on doing so because she doesn't want her to see the last leaf fall.

In the morning, Johnsy wants to see the vine, to be sure that all the leaves are gone, but to their surprise, there is still one leaf left.
While Johnsy is surprised that it is still there, she insists it will fall that day. But it doesn't, nor does it fall through the night or the next day.

Johnsy believes that the leaf stayed there to show how wicked she was, and that she sinned in wanting to die.
She regains her will to live, and makes a full recovery throughout the day.

Blood returns to the faces of the students in our class, yes Johnsy survives and we were all happy.

I can see Neha clapping quietly in her seat, we were all relieved that Johnsy didn’t die.

The look of Vibha miss’s face clearly indicates the story is not over yet.

We wait and a minute later she resumes.

The next afternoon, a doctor talks to Sue. He tells her that Mr. Behrman has come down with pneumonia and, as there is nothing to be done for him, he is being taken to the hospital to be made comfortable in his final hours.

A janitor had found him helpless with pain, and his shoes and clothing were wet and icy cold. The janitor couldn't figure out where he had been on that stormy night, though she had found a lantern that was still lit, a ladder that had been moved, some scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow colors mixed on it.

Mr. Behrman passes away.

Johnsy, now fully recovered makes her way to the vine one day to see the last leaf that kept her alive all these days.

She discovers that the leaf that didn’t fall despite the storm was actually a painting, Behrman’s masterpiece, he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell.

The class is speechless, our eyes are filled with tears, we are torn between by our feelings for Behrman and  we know that this would be the last time we ever saw Ms. Vibha ever again in our lives.

It’s been 15 years since that day, I can still recall the reaction of my classmates, how bowled over we were by Mr. Behrman’s act of kindness.

The last leaf is actually one of O Henry’s short stories published in the year 1907 after watching ‘Lootera’ a film based on the same story made 106 years later it dawned on me how the names, the people and the places might’ve changed but the central message of the story still stayed the same.

Like I predicted back then, I never saw my favourite school teacher again, I take comfort in thinking of the fact that she is in some part of the world touching the lives of hundreds of students like me with her beautiful smile and her wonderful stories.

I miss my teacher a lot, i remember her last words to our class, the bell had just rung and most of us were on the verge of breaking down into tears.

She paused for a moment, looked at all of us with a serious expression on her face and asked-

How far are you willing to go to help a friend?

As Always
Your’s truly


Monday, September 16, 2013

Adios Amigo.....

All of my primary education was split between two schools in Bangalore the Air force school and Kendriya Vidyalaya No - 2 Jalahalli east, quite understandably a majority of my classmates were children of personnel from different armed forces in the country.

Behind all the Greenery - Kendriya Vidyalaya No- 2
My childhood buddies came from all four corners of the state, and by spending time with such a diverse population on a daily basis I became fairly well acquainted with many different cultures, diets, dialects which amalgamated into our navy blue and white uniform making us feel like one despite all our differences.

I took pride in saying that some of my best friends were from parts of the country which took days to reach by road or rail.
The only problem was that every 3 years my class would get reshuffled, most of my classmates would get transferred to other parts of India and a new batch of students would arrive none of whom knew me or was familiar with my ways.

Every time this happened I had to learn to reset and adapt to the new circumstances.
It was something I had come to accept over the many years at school, but irrespective of the amount of time spent in preparing myself to say goodbye, every single time I had to bid adieu to a friend it hurt me bad.

What caused me the most anguish was the fact that i was always the one getting left behind, I was never the one who got to walk away.

Those were simpler days, there was no email, there were no social networks, no whats app and in fact even mobile phones were a rarity.
Yes of course we had the postal service and whenever a student left he or she would promise to write and eventually, over time forget about it.

I can distinctly recall one particular incident where my ‘Kulfi’ loving friend Pavan wrote back to us nearly 6 months after leaving for J & K, we were surprised when the school peon walked in with a large envelope addressed to the members of class VIII A, it was a beautifully written letter, he had gone on for pages about the beauty of the Kashmir valley and how he missed each and every one of us.

The idiot had however forgotten to mention his address at the end.

2 years back when I graduated from medical school and the last days of my internship started drawing near, I became increasingly aware of the fact that this time around, I was going to be the one leaving the group of my friends behind, and that wasn't any less painful.

I belonged to the first batch of students in the college, my friends included people from batches that came 1, 2, 3  and even 4 years after i joined.

I can never forget my last official day at the college, it was emotionally overwhelming.

As they waved at me when I boarded the bus for possibly the last time as their senior in the college, in the eyes of two of my junior friends Nikhita and Meghana I saw the same look that I used to have when I watched my classmates leave one by one at school,

Very recently,September 3rd 2013 was the last day of Hemanth aka Marcus Murthy the most celebrated and multifaceted personality to walk the campus of Raja-Rajeswari Medical College & Hospital.
A long long time ago, there lived a child genius named Hemanth

We had a small get together a few days before he left where we reminisced some of the fondest memories of the times we have had over the years and while leaving when Abhishek and Nikhita handed me a book to write down an autograph for Marcus I realized that one page wasn’t going to be enough to write about a friend I have known for over 7 years now.
:-) !!!
Believe it or not my earliest memory of Hemanth is of a chubby young boy struggling to perform sit ups at a competition in the college’s first ever freshers day, I also remember him singing a song on the stage the very same day (and NO ! I am not lying).

Chapter 1. Marcus the music lover

The next time was at a deep purple concert , that was probably the event that led to our friendship.
When I saw him the day after the gig at college, he was overjoyed and somewhat relieved to finally have someone at the college who loved heavy metal as a genre even though his interest was exponentially higher than me.
I was just beggining to like iron maiden then, Hemanth had gotten over the band by that time, and everyone who listens to heavy metal knows that getting over maiden can only mean that you have moved on to much louder and heavier stuff.

It was after meeting him that I realized what it is like being a die hard fan of something, take iron maiden for example, He had CDS of every single album they'd ever made, DVD's of every concert they've released and a huge collection of T shirts and Posters of the band.

Believe it or not barely 6 months after our initial interaction Iron Maiden toured India for the very first time and performed in Bangalore.

Then others followed Sepultura, Aerosmith, Megadeth, Metallica and at every gig Hemanth was there.

At another concert in the city
Chapter 2. Marcus the movie buff

A year later, when orkut was spreading its wings across the country Hemanth and I incidentally started a topic about movies, it turned out that his knowledge about film and television was incredible, I was blown away by his personal collection of movies.

Our discussions switched back and forth from music to movies, there was so much trivia for us to share, so many other genres to explore, and yet there was a lot more to the man than just a passion for music and movies.

Chapter 3, Marcus the Nerd !!!
The Distinction holder.
When i started my 1 year of compulsory rotatory internship, I began using the college bus to commute. Hemanth usually sat in the back seat listening to music, sleeping or just quietly staring out of the window, every morning he saved a seat for me, I would occasionally carry my entrance exam books with me and try to answer some of the questions therein, it was here that I realized what an in depth understanding of medicine Hemanth possessed, his basics were so strong that he managed to accurately answer some of the toughest questions in the book within unbelievably short periods of time using only his power of reasoning.

But wait, the best was yet to come.

Chapter 4, Marcus Murthy- The Prankster, The Comedian, The Dancer, The Singer & The Gujarati.

Nick names come and go, but sometimes they are so perfect that people prefer using them to our real names.

Like many discoveries that were made by accident, the name Marcus moorthy too came by when he tried to come up with a false name to confuse the newest batch of juniors who had just arrived at the college, little did we know that over the days that followed the whole college would start referring to him as Marcus completely ignoring his real birth name.
Marcus with Meghana-Probably his biggest fan on planet earth.
With Abdul, Ah ! the smiles...
Through this blog I have often tried to describe how sometimes it’s the simplest things in life that bring people close, I have referred many times to ‘The group’ in this post, it may startle you to know that there was no group as such till four months before I left the college, and the thing that brought us together was literally dumb, I mean it, it was dumb, Dumb Charades !!!

Busy making names up, thats all!

Hemanth, Jaydeep and me v/s Poorva, Radhika, Shanmuga Priya, Meghana, Nikhita, Anusha, and everyone else who wished to join in.

Despite all the others in the bus putting their heads together, they seldom came up with a name that the three 
of us couldn’t guess.
The Back Seaters
In all fairness, they weren’t bad either, Poorva was their teams star performer, her acting prowess can be defined by the ease with she successfully enacted the movie names like ‘Synecdoche New York’ & ‘ Being John Malkovich’ correctly.
Poorva and Nikhita
Jaydeep stopped using the bus and we were left with no one who could do the acting for our team.

Our Prayers for a team mate experienced in sign language were answered when Abhishek joined the college,his acting was so amazing that we started calling him ‘Oscar Abhi’, he has since then been renamed 'Elvis the Pelvis' he is presently preparing to overthrow PSY with his song & dance skills.

Oscar Abhishek with Radhika
It was during these games and discussions we became increasingly aware of Marcus’s multitalented personality.
He used the words ‘Kem Cho’ like a pure Gujarati and did the moonwalk like it was nobody’s business.
Kung Fu !
It was some of the things he said, the pranks he pulled that helped me understand what it meant to laugh out loud or roll on the floor laughing.

When I look back now the days spent in bus number 3090 were among the best of my entire time at college.

I was the first to leave.

Marcus moved into final year, and Poorva started internship.

A year later even Poo had to move on to the next phase of her life.

Now Marcus.

In less than a 15 months Nikhita’s batch of students will have to turn around and look one last time before the image of the college fades from their sight and becomes a memory.

A year after that Oscar will play the role of the senior who bids a tearful farewell to his friends and fans alike.

By then the back row of the bus would have been replaced by newer students, many of whom won’t even know that we existed, that we laughed till our bellies hurt, poked fun at one another, fought and even cried in the very same seats.

Thus goes life.

‘Life of Pi’ was a great movie for many reasons.
The thing that blew me away was what Pi had to say in the penultimate scene of the film-

“I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go, but what hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye.”

Finally, what I have to say to Marcus and everyone else in the gang is that in life we may have to say goodbye or let go of things we love from time to time but nothing can take away the memories of moments we have spent together.

To this Hemanth would probably say – Well Thomas, what about dementia ? !

You know what Marcus, I dont think even Alzheimers can :-)

And just like I mentioned in your slam book, we can’t wait to see what you have in store for us next.

As Always, Yours Truly