<p>My wife, Dr Kantimati, suffers from “Namnesia”—a term I coined for her peculiar inability to recall names, which she developed after crossing 75. She never appears embarrassed or apologetic about it; to her, names seem irrelevant, as she can vividly describe faces and actions. It is as if her mental database is filled to the brim with people’s quirks, deeds, and misdeeds, leaving no room for names.</p>.<p>Listening to her relate a news story is like participating in a ‘Guess Who’ game. Narrating political developments in Maharashtra, she would announce that the senior leader with a facial anomaly (courtesy of an unfortunate stroke) is planning to upset the government and secretly met the Union roads minister, who often faints at public meetings. The recent Rameswaram Cafe blast in Bengaluru triggered her memory to query about the UPA home minister who went on a dress-changing spree when serial blasts rocked Delhi.</p>.<p>Chatting about yesteryear films, she would ask the name of the hero—a tongawalla who laid a new pathway to win a race against a motor bus—or the heroine who lost her jhumka in Bareilly’s bazaar. Once she tossed a real brain twister asking about an actor who played a Madrasi music teacher smitten with the heroine whose first film had a blockbuster song opening with the hero shouting the name of an email service provider.</p>.<p>Of course, there are the proverbial exceptions as she never fails to recall the names of Narendra Modi and Yogi or of departed prominent figures like Indira Gandhi, M S Subbalakshmi, Lata Mangeshkar, and Dr Rajkumar.</p>.<p>Fearing her condition may deteriorate into Alzheimer’s, we consulted our doctor and started her on some food supplements reputed to stop the ageing of the brain. But after a few months, I noticed to my horror that she was unable to recall even the names of common cooking ingredients. The other day when I went out to buy some essentials, she phoned me to get 200 gm of that which resembles the mouth freshener stuff they give in restaurants along with the bill.</p>.Memories painted in moonlight.<p>But what is amazing is that even after over 50 years, she can put down precisely the chemical structure of an organic compound she had obtained from the US for her PhD thesis on “Nuclear Quadrupole Resonance “. And she can reel off all the kritis she played in over a dozen Veena recitals she gave after our marriage on Akashvani, Delhi and Bengaluru. </p>.<p>This makes me confident I may not face a day when, failing to recall my name, she would refer to me as “the person who put a sudden brake on my brilliant academic career but gave a helping hand on my musical journey and, by God’s grace, helped me deliver two responsible and conscientious citizens to the world at large.”</p>
<p>My wife, Dr Kantimati, suffers from “Namnesia”—a term I coined for her peculiar inability to recall names, which she developed after crossing 75. She never appears embarrassed or apologetic about it; to her, names seem irrelevant, as she can vividly describe faces and actions. It is as if her mental database is filled to the brim with people’s quirks, deeds, and misdeeds, leaving no room for names.</p>.<p>Listening to her relate a news story is like participating in a ‘Guess Who’ game. Narrating political developments in Maharashtra, she would announce that the senior leader with a facial anomaly (courtesy of an unfortunate stroke) is planning to upset the government and secretly met the Union roads minister, who often faints at public meetings. The recent Rameswaram Cafe blast in Bengaluru triggered her memory to query about the UPA home minister who went on a dress-changing spree when serial blasts rocked Delhi.</p>.<p>Chatting about yesteryear films, she would ask the name of the hero—a tongawalla who laid a new pathway to win a race against a motor bus—or the heroine who lost her jhumka in Bareilly’s bazaar. Once she tossed a real brain twister asking about an actor who played a Madrasi music teacher smitten with the heroine whose first film had a blockbuster song opening with the hero shouting the name of an email service provider.</p>.<p>Of course, there are the proverbial exceptions as she never fails to recall the names of Narendra Modi and Yogi or of departed prominent figures like Indira Gandhi, M S Subbalakshmi, Lata Mangeshkar, and Dr Rajkumar.</p>.<p>Fearing her condition may deteriorate into Alzheimer’s, we consulted our doctor and started her on some food supplements reputed to stop the ageing of the brain. But after a few months, I noticed to my horror that she was unable to recall even the names of common cooking ingredients. The other day when I went out to buy some essentials, she phoned me to get 200 gm of that which resembles the mouth freshener stuff they give in restaurants along with the bill.</p>.Memories painted in moonlight.<p>But what is amazing is that even after over 50 years, she can put down precisely the chemical structure of an organic compound she had obtained from the US for her PhD thesis on “Nuclear Quadrupole Resonance “. And she can reel off all the kritis she played in over a dozen Veena recitals she gave after our marriage on Akashvani, Delhi and Bengaluru. </p>.<p>This makes me confident I may not face a day when, failing to recall my name, she would refer to me as “the person who put a sudden brake on my brilliant academic career but gave a helping hand on my musical journey and, by God’s grace, helped me deliver two responsible and conscientious citizens to the world at large.”</p>
