What’s the date today?

I forgot a good friend’s birthday. The past few years, I’ve been forgetting more and more birthdays, anniversaries, and all that. Initially, I used to agonise for months on end if I forgot a date, and felt like I had committed a sin almost. Finally, sometime last year to make it official, I just said aloud to myself that I am not good at remembering dates, and have felt much better ever since. I just remember a handful of dates now, the birthdays of my parents, my bro, and a few friends, and I am quite prepared to face the fact that soon, I may forget those too.

I never was good at dates anyway. In school I hated history only because of the dates. I loved the subject otherwise. I used to have nightmares about facing a history exam consisting solely of date-related questions.

When did the British set up the East India Company? When did Shivaji attack Afzal Khan? When was the prince of whatisname country assassinated that lead to the first world war? When was the third visit of Hitler to a concentration camp? When did Roosevelt first catch a cold during the second world war? When did Churchill raise his finger in glee when he saw his favourite team bowl out the last batsman in a county cricket match, which was noted down as a V sign by historians spying on him in the stands? When did Nehru have his 50th Nehru jacket stitched?

I don’t know!!! Stop tormenting me!

Would it have made a world of difference if King Puru had been defeated a day later than the date I filled in that blank? Would Huan Tsang have not gained much knowledge if he had come a week earlier than what I wrote in the paper? Well, perhaps, yes. But why punish me for not remembering some numbers? To add to it, they clumped history and geography together in school. So even though I was so good in geography (Oh, you should have seen me wielding a globe), I always scored poorly in the combined total. Scarred my tender mind forever. And don’t even get me started on civics.

What are dates anyway? It’s the moments that matter, isn’t it? WHEN Vasco da Gama arrived at the Malabar coast is not important, I think. What’s important is how he FELT. They should ask questions related to those things. What was Churchill’s reaction when he first saw Stalin’s moustache? What about Hitler’s moustache? What lead to the perpetual scowl on his (Churchill’s) hairless face? Did he feel any solidarity with the clean-shaven Roosevelt on matters other than the war? History should give more consideration to these peoples’ feelings. They’d appreciate it.

Oh shit, I missed the due date for payment of my electricity bill!