I don't remember how the tree and the leaves of a sagade tree look like, but I remember climbing a sagade tree frequently when I was in Belathur and eating the sagade fruit. I don't remember how the sagade fruit looks or tastes like either. One day, I climbed up a sagade tree with my my few friends and I slipped and fell. I was screaming and someone went and told my uncle. He came right over and beat me up for doing such a stupid thing. Fortunately, I didn't suffer a fracture and recovered fully in a few days.
I always wonder why do some things remain in memory and others not. Is it because of the intensity of the pain (mental or physical) of the incident or because of the strength of association with objects or people in the incident?
When I read this blog, I wonder what is so special about the incident I wrote here about; nothing as I can see it. But why does the memory linger around in me for many decades now? Is it important to me, if not for others, in some way, perhaps subconsciously?
I always wonder why do some things remain in memory and others not. Is it because of the intensity of the pain (mental or physical) of the incident or because of the strength of association with objects or people in the incident?
When I read this blog, I wonder what is so special about the incident I wrote here about; nothing as I can see it. But why does the memory linger around in me for many decades now? Is it important to me, if not for others, in some way, perhaps subconsciously?
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