You never forget your first-ever headache—especially if you are me. It's like your brain losing its virginity. Or something fancy like that. The month was February and i was in my sixth grade. We were in Shirdi and that's when my head begun to burst. Very literally. I could feel the pain so intensely that it outmatched any other kind of discomfort i'd experienced till then. I always thought i was special but my debut with headache was not what specialness meant to me. Having skipped breakfast that morning and with the sun dancing on my head, it was one heck of a horror. The lunch didn't help my case either. Medicine was out of question "for a little boy". After tolerating the day, an hour before sunset, a miracle happened. We reached Panchvati and my amma asked me to step into the cold water of river Godavari and splash my face. Believe it or not, the headache disappeared. Just like that. I can still go back to the relief i felt that evening. As (annoyingly) usual, she was right. This piece of memory is so ingrained in my head that that splitting headache has become a sweet sketch of my wandering mind.
Cut to 2014.
Of late, i've been experiencing this tinging sensation in the centre of my head. As if someone is hammering a particular point again and again with a needle. The pain is sharp and seldom lasts for more than a minute. It's not migraine. My physician believes i think too much and unnecessarily stress myself with the task of making sense out of everything that's happening around us. This is the same guy whom i thought was a dear friend 10 years ago. Turns out i shouldn't have had all those freeflowing conversations with him. He has clearly given up on me. Moreover, it's difficult to trust a patient who initially hated body art and is now carelessly tattooed. Yet, i tried telling him that i used to be fabulous with my memory, with names and dates while I fumble nowadays. That glorious era of being quick with data looks like archived for good. He thinks i think too much (again). Maybe it's plain karma for all the people i've disappointed with my wayward behaviour. If not, then it's just another phase where my brain decides to reassert itself. Everybody, including wetware, needs a break. I can only hope it doesn't tamper with my memories. Memories so sharp they'd cut you in half. At least the rare ones in which miracles indeed took place.