“My memory, my memory!” I moaned, peering into the cupboard. I looked at him, all set to go for his class, a brilliant lecture in his head but no shirt on his person and stopped worrying about memory playing hide-and-seek. I began to hum, The She I love is a beautiful , beautiful dream come true.., mentally giving my memory appreciative pats on its back. I remembered my husband mentioning a word to describe a song or a tune that keeps repeating in one’s mind. My memory let me down again for I couldn’t remember the word but I knew there was a worm in it.

Source: The Hindu November 17, 2017 10:07 UTC