A letter from the more oblivious

They say all men are created equal. I think not, because not everyone is endowed with the distinct ability to put this ruthless question - "How can you forget?". This is what we forgetful lot are offended by. Even conceding our defeat in silence, to pump your ego up, isn't sufficient sometimes. While the act of putting this rhetorical question itself does not make you sound like a total moron, expecting an answer definitely does, in our eyes at least. If you could hear our inner voice choking under the heavy boots of your superior mental ability, it would be "Had I known, you wouldn't have had to put the question in the first place."

Frankly, I do not pride on my forgetfulness. The mental picture I hold of my past-self is that of a wild elephant living freely in the wild, unburdened by this curious ability of making certain things pop up and flash out of thin gray matter. But, Sir, you have strategically slashed that whip of your question and tamed me into a circus creature, driven by guilt more than fear. A machine that is powered by its own guilt is probably a great possession. Now I wouldn't know that, would I? Talking about machines, technology hasn't made my life easier either. I always ran out of space for reminders on phone. I wasted time in prioritizing a few among the n things I can get my phone to help me remember. Most other times, I forgot to carry or charge my phone. In a few cases, obvious of all, I forgot to set reminders.

Biologists may like to differ, but I like to believe the following. Part of your brain has been commissioned for this non-volatile memory and the same space has been earmarked in ours for some mysterious super natural ability that shall be called upon, at an appropriate time, to save the universe. When the time is ripe I will be able to answer your question more comprehensively - "I kept forgetting things all the while so I can save you now. You are welcome. And I forgive you"