The Reason I Jump: The Inner Voice of a Thirteen-Year-Old Boy with Autism by Naoki Higashida

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Since I’m in the mental health field I have an understanding of how autism works. We’re taught to recognize the symptoms, numerous theories to explain the behavior’s , medications for irritability and then therapy to help develop social skills. Social skills required to adapt and survive in a neurotypical world.

This book is the rare explanation of how it feels to be autistic , from the ‘inside’. Explained by a 13 year old autistic child. How he searches for what to reply by searching through his memory of previously similar situations , and sayin the sentence nearest possible to the appropriate answer. this is often deemed gibberish to the typical listener. the writers desperation in how his body and words does not respond the way he wants it to. Despite being deemed to generally not understand social cues the author often writes about how he knows that the people close to him are frustrated and disappointed.

Throughout the book one message repeated over and over again. ‘We need your help. Don’t leave us’



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It was a beautiful day in the Maldives, the sun shining brightly in the clear blue sky and the sea a dazzling shade of turquoise. The air was filled with the sound of seagulls and the gentle lapping of waves against the sandy shores.

But on this particular day, the peaceful atmosphere of the islands was about to be disrupted by a group of ruthless pirates.

The pirates sailed into the Maldives on their airship, a massive, steam-powered vessel that soared through the skies like a giant, metal bird. At the helm of the ship stood Captain Blackbeard, a tall, burly man with a thick beard and piercing blue eyes.

Blackbeard and his crew were notorious for their ruthless tactics and their love of plundering and pillaging. They had come to the Maldives in search of treasure and were not about to let anything stand in their way.

As the airship descended onto one of the islands, Blackbeard and his men stormed ashore, swords drawn and ready for battle. But what they found was not what they had expected.

Instead of the usual treasure and riches, they found a small group of scientists, led by a brilliant young woman named Sophia. Sophia and her team had been studying the marine life of the Maldives for several years, and had made some incredible discoveries.

But Blackbeard and his pirates were not interested in science. They wanted gold and jewels, and they were determined to get their hands on them.

Sophia and her team tried to reason with the pirates, explaining that they had no treasure to offer. But Blackbeard was not one to listen to reason. He ordered his men to search the island, determined to find something of value.

As the pirates rummaged through the scientists’ equipment and supplies, Sophia saw an opportunity to escape. She grabbed a small satchel and made a run for it, darting through the jungle and onto the beach.

As she ran, she heard the sound of the pirates chasing after her. She knew she had to move fast if she was going to outsmart them.

Sophia raced across the beach, her heart pounding in her chest. She could hear the pirates getting closer and closer, their footsteps pounding on the sand.

Just when she thought she couldn’t run any further, Sophia saw something that gave her hope. A giant octopus, its tentacles writhing and waving in the water.

Without a second thought, Sophia plunged into the sea and swam towards the octopus. She knew it was her only chance to escape.

As she swam towards the octopus, Sophia could feel the pirates getting closer. She could hear their angry shouts and the sound of their swords clashing against the water.

But Sophia was not about to give up. She swam with all her might, determined to reach the octopus.

Finally, she reached the giant creature and grabbed hold of one of its tentacles. The octopus seemed to sense Sophia’s need for help, and it began to swim away from the pirates, pulling Sophia along with it.

As they swam through the crystal clear waters of the Maldives, Sophia knew she had found an unlikely ally. The octopus seemed to be leading her to safety, and Sophia was grateful for its help.

Eventually, the octopus brought Sophia to a small, uninhabited island where she could hide and rest. Sophia collapsed onto the sandy beach, exhausted but grateful to be alive.

As the days passed, Sophia began to explore the island and make a new home for herself. She learned to fish and gather food, and she even made friends with a group of friendly

Each days bled into the other until the line between days blurred and then, finally disappeared. The older guys passed the time fishing and playing cards. Some of the middle-aged married men took to sneaking out and having illicit affairs with the women in the populated half of the island. The younger guys smoked and talked, some rolling their own cigarettes, which surprising was quite cathartic. We had one laptop and the guys sometimes grouped together to watch porn. It did not take long for the women who came to sweep the area every morning to start looking attractive. Tyler, the douche from Police section,  took to wearing sunglasses and lounging where they swept to catch a glimpse of cleavage.

One of the guys started to weave a hammock to pass the time. He hung in between two coconut palms and Michael, one of the stouter guys lay on it while we were shooting the breeze. It gave way and he crashed to the ground. Midfall, he managed to yell ‘fall break’ while spreading out his arms to maximize his surface area and minimize injury just like how we were taught in judo class. That was the one and only time we used judo during our entire two-month tour.

The gym was not too bad. It had all the basic equipment nothing fancy. I started working out regularly. There was a small library right behind the office to which I found the key to after rummaging around. The books were crisp and new, it was obvious no one who’d ever stayed here was big on reading. The medicine cabinet had mostly expired pills and some basic bandaging. I found some pills for constipation and for a second, I entertained the idea of playing a prank. This place was getting to me. I resisted the temptation and threw most of it out. I sent a list of inventory back to base knowing very well that they’d refuse half of it.

Sometimes I sat in the control room watching the monitors for the cctv cameras. The prisoners knew when we watched them since zooming or scanning around made noise from the camera. Some of them would give us the finger. Others would flash us. A guy took to hitting one camera with a volleyball repeatedly for one good hour. One guy in isolation made entire banners and posters around his cell with profanity involving the president’s wife. There seemed to be a lot of activity inside the mosque back wall which was a camera blind spot. They were probably smoking joints which were smuggled in. The cameras were hi-tech. You could turn it in any direction and zoom so much that you could see up close, people walking around on the beach in the neighboring island.

One of the prisoners had caught hold of the prison staff’s walkie talkie. They would usually wait until midnight and then start broadcasting profanity. It would include the government, everyone in our base and then move on to singing. It was entertaining in a way. I walked back to my barracks one night after listening to one such broadcast. I had a coke can in my hand. The lid had fallen inside and I rattled it repeatedly as I walked in the dark behind other barracks. I just wanted to annoy whoever was trying to get some sleep.

The next morning roll call , we stood in formation as the days announcements were made. One of the older guys spoke up. He requested the flood lights be switched on , in the darker areas behind the barracks. I did not think much of it until later that day. When I joined the guys in the evening the conversation was about some urban legend. Apparently one local was refused a proper burial and his restless spirit is said to haunt this area. All the torture and evil that was perpetuated for years in the prison made this place unholy.  This was evident since last night some had heard an ominous rattling in the dark. One of the older men sagely warned everyone. The rattling could only mean one thing. The Djinn who inhabited the trees nearby were getting restless.

And suddenly there it was. A scheme came into my mind fully formed.

https://anchor.fm/maumoon-shareef/embed/episodes/The-haunting-of-Alcatraz–Part-One-e11r76v

The bad news came as soon as our combat boots touched the beach. The one week off once a month we were promised? It was just a ruse to make sure we all came along without a fuss. My duties as a medic back in the base was twenty-four hours duty, the next twenty-four hours off. Duty starts at 12 in the afternoon though so, it always feels like I am at work. A one-week break seemed heaven sent. It was too good to be true.

We were being sent to take over from the troops in an army base, adjacent to a prison. Four months back the news of a prisoner being beaten to death had rocked the otherwise sleepy nation. Quiet, amiable types were handpicked from different sections in the base. We were given anger management therapy by a group of psychologists every morning for a few weeks. I do not think any of that sunk in. The army was not exactly known for in-depth exploration of feelings. Also, the fact that we either had Judo training or riot control exercises in full gear every afternoon added to our confusion.  Group therapy about imagining walking through a beautiful flower garden in the mornings and being repeatedly judo slammed into the ground in the afternoon or riot shields blocking broken glass bottles and fire in the afternoon.

All eyes were on this prison now. Human rights officials checked the place regularly.  We were not allowed to enter the prison without orders directly from the base. The prison had their own civilian staff running the place. Day and night we watched trollies of food and jugs of drinks enter the place from our CCTV cameras. We watched them eat to their hearts content, chicken, fish, biscuits, and all different varieties.

Us? We ate dhal (lentils). Yup, morning, afternoon, and night. We had a name for it; one that cannot be said in polite company. The simmering resentment was palpable. We were not allowed to enter the prison complex or cross over to the populated area of the island without a written order from base. From day one we split into a sort of hierarchy. Those of us who did administrative work became seniors and the rest were given sentry duties. I was in the admin group, so I enjoyed the privileges of working in an office from eight to two every day. Which left the rest of the day free. Free while the sentries did their guard duties morning, noon, and night.   An idle mind is the devil’s playground.

Saw a patient in a wheelchair gazing out the second floor window enjoying this view.

‘You have only one week here. You should learn fast and you need to learn a lot, ‘ said the senior doctor while taking an oxygen tube out of a neonate baby the size of a doll. ‘ Now… here’s how you can tell the difference between a preterm child and a normal baby..’ He rattled off, all the while continuing his work. Ten minutes later I was doing my morning follow-up in my assigned area of the ward.

A neonate is any baby less than 21 days old. Any neonate that is sick from the Obstretics ward above end up here in this overcrowded ward. There were around 20 beds in the main ward. Each bed had THREE small babies on it. Their mothers or any related females sat nearby on the ground. I had to be careful not to set my file on the bed without checking, else what I thought was a bundle of cloth might have a baby inside. Oxygen tubes ran in random directions all over the ward so I had to make sure I didn’t make any sudden turns or moves.

In my internship I had to complete one month in Pediatrics Medicine. Out of that, one week consists of working in Neonatology. The place was overcrowded to say the least. Besides the main ward, there were some 20 more beds in the outside room. A separate room with UV lights for babies with jaundice. Another separate room for severely underweight babies. Anywhere from 1200 grams to 750 grams; tiny, tiny babies. A friend of mine claimed he came across a baby who was 650 grams. The entire ward had only one incubator. Just ONE. Needless to say it was occupied all the time.

My first evening duty in the ward I had to give CPR to a baby. I had to be so careful wrapping my hands around the babies tiny torso and using my two thumbs to press its chest. Three presses and the Senior doctor squeezed with an AMBU to give the baby some air. After a while the doctor instructed me to stop. It seemed hopeless. I pressed on. The baby seemed so tiny that if I pressed hard I felt like I would break its ribs. I couldn’t bring myself to stop , not because I wanted some heroics but it felt surreal. The baby didn’t look or feel like a human. It felt so doll like. I stopped to check for a heart beat one last time. And I could hear one!
‘What do you know! You got a heartbeat! “ The doctor moved in quickly checking the babies vitals injecting steroids, adjusting the babies fluids.

I felt elation. I’ve just saved a life. I went home happy.

Still… it was an overcrowded neonate ward. What did I expect? What I saved in the evening, fate took away during my next night duty. Three babies died while I was giving CPR , late in the night. At least I beat the average. Usually four die per night. Thinking back I didn’t feel any sadness. I could see some mothers crying. I could see fathers angry and upset. I saw a mother fall to the ground and beat her chest and cry out loud. I saw this all as if I was in another place. As if I was observing from afar.

I remember months ago when I was in Pediatric Surgery and I called the CA on duty to inform him that a child was dying. He didn’t bother to come. He came after the child died and wrote the death certificate. There was no emotion, no sadness. I remember thinking what kind of monster acts like that. Later I learned that the child was expected to die that day. He had multiple organ failure , his whole body was undergoing sepsis. There was nothing anybody could do. Was I becoming like the CA? Am I heartless? Is this what happens to people in our profession?
But I felt happy when I saved the kid. Why can’t I feel sad?

From 4 am in the night I was sitting in between two babies on the little bed that’s considered to be the ICU. Babies that needed special attention. These two were going into convulsions. I had to give them Phenobarbitone to keep their convulsions in check. The convulsions that neonates undergo are different from older babies. It could be a repetitive movement. A boxing movement. A cycling movement of the hands. Lips smacking repeatedly. Or the hands held still in one position if it is tonic convulsion. The eyes will be looking upwards and sideways in a fixed gaze. Its hard to tell a neonates normal movements from a convulsion. I couldn’t wait around though. Convulsions without treatment might result in permanent brain damage. I kept giving them the appropriate doses of injection every half an hour . I stayed there till morning. Still alive. Looked normal. A baby nearby started going into respiratory distress. I added an oxygen tube and a headphone. Still no improvement. He was gasping for air. The senior doctor told the father that the baby needed a special machine that gave artificial respiration. The baby was not able to breath on its own. They didn’t have such facilities in a government hospital. They had to take the baby to a private clinic. Nearby, the childs mother was crying. Blood came out of the baby’s nose. My duty was up. I left home tired after the morning doctor came.

I learned a lot during my week there. All the drugs, the proper dosages. To check for babies with neonatal sepsis both early onset and late onset. Neonatal Asphyxia , Post-term babies, Meconium aspiration. Convulsions, jaundice. I learned a lot and I learned fast.

I completed my week and I thanked my teachers.

Days later I was in the main Pediatrics ward. Children from 23 days up to 14 years were admitted here. During admission day I had night duty. Usually people from far away villages came during this time. They come from their farms on long journeys and usually arrive at this hospital at midnight. The government hospital. The only place they can afford. These poor people.

A family arrived. They had brought their daughter. She was 9 years old and she had dark skin and short straight hair. She was beautiful. She was in obvious pain. They showed her legs and hands. Large red splotches . They lifted her dress and showed her stomach. Even larger areas. She had a severe cases of Steven Johnson syndrome. These people had tried their traditional medicine for months and it didn’t work. So finally they came to the hospital. She was in so much pain she couldn’t sit or lie down because her wounds hurt.

Finally I could cry.

I’ve started my internship from the Surgery periphery departments. So far I’ve done two weeks of casualty, one week of pediatrics surgery, one week of ENT, one of ophthalmology, two of orthopedics, one of anesthesia , one neurosurgery and finally my optional ward was urology (which I chose over radiology).
Next week I start my two months of general surgery. Some departments have been exciting and tough to say the least. Orthopedics was physically demanding. Neurosurgery was a lot to take in, what with people dying as soon as they were brought in. Pediatrics, really tough cause we didn’t want to take chances with those small kids.

Surgery was never my strong subject. I am more comfortable with internal medicine. I can get by in obstetrics and gynecology. We wanted to start our internship with gynecology but they didn’t have any placements so we started smack dab in the middle of the toughest wards of surgery. We hit the ground running and learned as we went along.

I did one week of ENT. Ear, nose and throat. It was a quiet ward. The morning round was easy. We didn’t have to do follow ups to any of the patients. Six days went by quickly without incident. I didn’t learn much.I was learning the important bits of surgery and I didn’t really spend time with ear, nose and throat that much. I knew something about tonsils enlargement, tracheotomy, some basic ear conditions. That was pretty much it. My final day in ENT I got night duty. I was planning to take Friday off and relax. The duty was unexpected. I wasn’t really worried though. ENT has been slow and boring the whole week. What possibly could happen one single night, right? I figured I’d sleep my duty off in the intern room.

I arrived at 10 pm for duty. Told the ward attendants that I’d be in the intern room and left. I switched on the TV, tucked the mosquito net in on all the corners of the bed (this is mosquito country central) and lay down. They were showing lord of the rings return of the king on cable. It was getting to my favorite scene too. Where the king draws his sword in the underworld and asks whether they would fight for the king?

A knock. Alrighty then. What possibly can it be. The ward attendant was at the door. He gestured in the direction of a lady standing outside. I didn’t know much Bangla and he didn’t know English. OK. I followed to the mini operating theater. He sat her down and indicated at her throat. He showed he this long bent scissor looking instrument. It seems that the lady has got a fish bone stuck in her throat. I was supposed to take it out. My one week here and this happens to me on the last day??? :s

I’ve never done anything practical in this ward. Sure I’d read about some of the conditions of the patients who were admitted. But this is an outpatient. I’ve never used this instrument. I’ve never even seen it. And I’m supposed to put it into someones throat.
I told the ward boy to do it himself. That I’d watch. These guys practically grew up inside the ward. They knew all the procedures by heart and they had enough practice to do it blindfolded. In fact they showed most interns how to do the procedures. They were not educated or literate though. They didn’t know why they were doing what they do, but they were damn good at doing it.

The ward boy tried many times to remove the offending bone. The lady gagged every time. Finally he gave up. He called the Medical Officer on duty for ENT. The doctor arrived. He tried many times as well. Finally he gave up. They quarreled in Bangla for a while and the lady left in a huff. I asked him what happened. He told me that if that bone was really irritating her she would keep quiet and let him remove it. The fact that she kept gagging and could talk normally and breathe meant that it was a really small bone and it would go away by itself.

Cool. I guessed this was an isolated incident. Back to watching my LOTR. One hour later. I was quietly nodding off. Knock knock
Oook. Come on. How many ENT emergencies could there be in one night??
A lady had something stuck in her ear. Fine.off I went to the mini OT.

I watched the ward boy remove it. It was a bloody end piece of an ear bud. I wrote off some medications and signed her papers. Only a doctor can sign any official document in the hospital. I knew the medications well enough.

Something stuck in the throat, something in the ear , now all I needed was some kid shoving something up his nose then my ENT would be complete :p. it was 12 in the night though. ENT is supposed to be a cool ward!!! I’m sure nothing else would happen tonight.

1 o’clock in the night. Sleepwalking to the mini OT with the ward boy. He removed a moth from a persons ear. IT WAS STILL FLAPPING ITS WINGS AND IT FLEW OFF WHEN IT WAS REMOVED. Come freaking on. Seriously? A moth. Flew into a persons ear. At one clock in the night. On my night duty.

Fine. Fine. I figured I’ll stay awake and watch some TV. I drifted off after some time though.

Three freaking o’clock in the night. Knock knock knock.
An old man. His son was standing next to him. The old guys beard was so long it reached mid chest.
He indicated to his throat. I gathered from his bangla that he was having difficulty swallowing. Dude! You realized that now? at 3 o’clock Friday night?? That you had difficulty swallowing? What were you trying to swallow at 3 am??? Wouldn’t this be a chronic condition? Why didn’t you come in the morning? When you know all the professors and PG doctors and people who gave a frick about ENT surgery were on duty? Huh? Huh? Why? Why?

Ahem. I read his previous medical records. He’s had a thyroid condition before, he was taking meds for it. Ahem. I have to inspect this guys throat. And there was a huge Santa clause like white beard blocking my view.
Hmmm. I clutched the beard in my hand. Lifted the entire thing up until I could see his throat. It was 3 in the night. I was sleepy. I was tired. I made a show of inspecting his thyroid gland for enlargement. I checked his lymph nodes too. Fine. I told the ward boys to admit the guy. The old guys kept talking. I knew enough bangla to make a decent patient history. But not that much to follow rapid bangla. He was asking me whether he would need an operation. Not a good idea at your age dude I thought. I told him to get admitted and we’ll find out during the morning round.

Back to sleep.

I get off duty at 8 in the morning. It was four am. Four hours of sleep. Come on. I had to start a new ward next morning. I had to be fresh.
5 o’clock in the morning. A guy with a bloody face. Blood coming out of his nose. Scarred. He’s been in a fight. I had the ward boys clean him up. Stitched up his cut face. His X ray didn’t show any fractures. Still it was a case for the police. I told the ward boys to keep him till cops show up.

Six o’clock . Road traffic accident. Bloody face. Referred from the neurosurgery department. More stitching while half asleep.

Seven in the morning. I got one hour of sleep. One hour. In the ENT ward. Supposedly the coolest and easiest ward in the surgery peripheral units.
Now you have to ask yourself. How was it in the toughest wards??

Waaaaay back in the day when I was a small boy one of the few things that could numb the pain of day to day routine was watching half an hour of cartoons in the evening. Yeah we only got half an hour because Television Maldives (TVM) used to start at 5:30 pm and the prayer call for Magrib would  usually be around 6:15pm. With the recitation of the Holy Quran for the first ten minutes we’d only get a solid half an hour.

The endless episodes of Tom & Jerry, Tintin, He-Man, Bugs Bunny and Woody Woodpecker provided me with many an evening of bliss, hypnotized to the tube. This half an hour of enjoyment was never guaranteed though. Maldivians being Maldivians they do find ways to mess it up.  They’d start showing a long ass boring cartoon which I knew would take the whole week to end.

I really don’t think the folks at TVM really understood what they were showing. Cartoons were cartoons right? There really was no call to censor or regulate those funny, drawn creatures they were showing to young, impressionable kids.

Here is a list of the way freak things they used to show, some with graphic violence and some bordering on pornography.

The last unicorn

The Last Unicorn is about a unicorn who, upon learning that she is the last unicorn in the world, goes on a quest to find out what has happened to the others of her kind.  Once this one starts I practically knew the whole week was shot cause it was really long (running time 92 minutes but for a kid that seems like forever).

The worst scenes would be Schmendrick the Magician writhing to get free, when stuck in the fat rolls of an old hag, who’s also a huge tree. The fearsome flaming red bull whose job it is to drive all the unicorns into the sea and the dull and dreary castle of King Harggard.

The cartoon does have a kickass soundtrack though. The ‘Last unicorn’ is still one of my favorite oldies.

Water ship down

The cartoon tells the story of a group of rabbits journey as they escape the destruction of their warren to seek a place in which to establish a new home, encountering perils and temptations along the way. There is a really long, graphic drawn out scene somewhere in the middle of a rabbit getting its neck stuck in a barbed wire fence and bleeding to death. Some of my friends in DMU have also told me that they remember this particular scene and found it particularly grotesque.

Animal farm

Written by George Orwell the book reflects events leading up to and during the Stalin erabefore World War II. It was a satire about communism!!. I guess the good folks at TVM figured ‘Hey it’s a cartoon, it has farm animals. Oh ok. We can show it. Maybe a 100 times every year’. Gah

There are scenes of a Donkey being overworked to death; The same donkey being sold to a meat factory by the greedy pigs that run the farm. The fat anthropomorphic   pigs sitting around the dinner table stuffing themselves; while the hungry starving animals of the farm look forlornly in through the window.

Bambi

I know this is a Disney cartoon. Even so it is seriously messed up. It’s about Bambi , the deer and how he becomes the great prince of the forest. The film has its great comedic scenes. The scene where Mr Owl explains to the animals why spring is the season where animals get twitterpated is classic.  His demonstration is of how twitterpation occurs is especially hilarious.

The disturbing scenes would be

–          Bambi’s mother getting shot while they were looking for food in the harsh winter

–          The whole damn forest catching fire and the animals fleeing for their lives while being chased by hounds.

Really Disney? What were you thinking?

Wind in the willows

The story well told well guess. But its so looong and depressing.  The characters are drawn so… so hideously. Huge protruding foreheads and eyes. The cartoonist must have surely been on drugs

 

 

 

Yellow Submarine

Speaking of drugs, If this cartoon isn’t a vivid description of an effed up psycho trip taken by a drug addict I don’t know what is. Made during the psychedelic sixties when the Beatles surely must have been experimenting with LSD. This cartoon is an explosion of color, art and alternate images. When I googled this cartoon just now I read that almost all viewers had nothing but praise for this great artistic achievement  of a cartoon. As a young boy though this was one of the most messed up things I’ve ever watched. The fact that I could not understand the thick British accent and that people and characters and the environment kept changing shapes and color throughout the movie was too much for me to comprehend.

There is one way to preserve fond memories of watching cartoons as a kid though. Keep it as it is. A memory. Never ever look it up on youtube. The cartoons that I do have good memories of wactching, that seemed larger than life to me then, when watched on youtube seems so… lame. Yeah lame. Better to keep the fondness alive.

April 14th 2012

Recently I watched the movie ‘Midnight in Paris’ by Woody Allen. Its a story about a struggling writer Gil, who visits Paris with his rich fiancé and her parents. Basically he’s in love with the City of Love with its rich history and art. He yearns to live in the past, the 1920s to be exact, when his favorite writers and artists lived. One night while he’s drunkenly walking home , a mysterious Rolls Royce pulls up and the passengers urge him to join them. After going with them to a bar he realizes he’s been magically transported to the 1920s. He gets to meet and hang around with famous writers and artists like Ernest Hemingway, Salvadore Dali, Pablo Picasso and Picasso’s lover Adriana.

Gil falls in love with Adriana and he keeps visiting the past every midnight to be with her. He loves the era that he’s transported to every night and decides to propose to Adriana. He’s about to do that when a car pulls over and gives them a lift and both of them are now transported to the 1890s Belle Époque, an era Adriana considers Paris’s Golden Age. There they meet more famous writers who tell them that their idea of a Golden Age would be the Renaissance.

Gil finally realizes that no matter which age people live in they will always have nostalgia for the past. We all yearn for better times, times in the past when things were simpler. He concludes that its better to live in the present and make the most of what we have NOW and what we can achieve in the time we have.

Almost everybody I know talk about the Good Old Days. The good old days when times were simpler, the streets were cleaner. There was less crime, people were happier. Goods were cheaper, people had better manners.

To make it brutally scientific, it might be all in our minds. In order to keep u sane and functioning it tries to reduce the impact of bad memories. Those memories are sidelined and only the good, happy memories are magnified. Over time we remember the past as just a collection of mostly happy memories. We compare this to the present and then we conclude that things were much better in the past.

For me its just a matter of perspective. Let’s take an example from my life. When I was a kid one of my sisters gave me a book on Yoga. Having almost no friends and a serious lack of entertainment at home i used to devour books. I read the book from cover to cover. it described different techniques on meditation and the postures involved. In the latter chapters it detailed incidents from the lives of famous Yogis. It concluded with a chapter about Transcendental Meditation (TM) which was an exciting new technique used to mimic brain waves of experienced Yogis. Using this method even normal people can quickly achieve the mental states that took Yogis decades of meditation to achieve.

I was really curious about this TM thing. I wanted to know more about it. AND? Yes when I was a kid, Maldives did not have internet. I waited till the weekend till i didn’t have school. i walked to the National Library. i searched a shelf full of books. I finally found a book about Zen meditation. Close, but not really what i wanted

So consider this. It took me ONE WEEK to find something that was KINDA close to what I wanted.

Now whatever I want, whenever I want I just Google it.

area 51? Google it

Latest movie?  Google it

Who did what, when where? Just Google it.

All this power within seconds. So which generation, which decade is better really? (with this much information easily available , one would think everyone would be really smart, but that’s another story).

Its all really not that one sided. When I was a kid I had really limited books to read. Therefore I had no choice but to FINISH those books. Sometimes even read them again, lingering over the favorite parts. I finished all the good books on my shelf. Finally only old Agatha Christie novels, the History of Shells and a book called Famous actors of the Beijing Opera were left. I read those too. I was finally left with reading the dictionary before sleeping. The point is I finished those books. NOW i have hundreds of books on my computer. Maybe even a thousand. I’ve skimmed some. I have never finished even one. I’m better at collecting things and running from one ‘Ooo shiny thing’ to the next. I can hardly watch a movie till the end preferring to skim through it. An episode from a series 20 minutes long is the best me and my friends can do. We keep moving from one thing to another at break neck speed. We have information overload. We know too much. From international news to videos of celebrities walking their dog.

The internet has become part of us, an extension of our SELF. We are not just our mind and body. we are also our Facebook page and MSN. Its just as much a part of us as our eyes , hands and feet. It completes us. Take those away and we change to a blubbering mass of protoplasm.

This time, this decade will be the golden age of the adults of tomorrow. We might find it annoying but these are the best days of another generations lives.

 

So in conclusion, it doesn’t matter when you were born or how bad things are now, (cliché saying alert :s) the Golden age is always the present moment