I’m happier here than I’ve been in most places, and I’m usually extraordinarily happy.  I have a sunny disposition.  I like to be aware of my surroundings, and being aware, for me, opens up the capacity for joy in all things.  All the things I care about are related, on some deep level, to food, perhaps.  That says more about me than it does about the things themselves, but then again, I love to eat.  If there is an opportunity to try something new, I usually take it, and if Indian food is involved, that’s even better.  I didn’t come to Singapore to have an experience with Indian food, but now that I’m here, I wish I’d planned it this way.
There are more great Indian restaurants here than anywhere on earth, at least in terms of how they relate in terms of the size of the population, the quality of the food, and the capacity to cause utter pleasure among the diners.  I had first suspected that I was enough to make waves of joy come rolling over us, should such things be possible, because my own delight with the food was enough to make me consider losing my memory.  If I could convince a surgeon to help me lose my short-term memory, and the procedure was a low enough risk, that would be a perfect situation.
I really don’t think I need to say that I love Indian food.  But I do.  There’s something about the cheese, something about the spice, and something about the curries, that reminds me that this world is much more complex and satisfying that we are sometimes lead to believe.  And anything that can open up the pores, the taste buds, and the capacity for joy, is worth paying attention to.  With a more carefully honed memory, one that could recall important things like directions and pin numbers, but forget exactly how food tastes, so you have to go back again and again, I might have unlocked a secret of immortality.

Indian Food and Memory is a post from: eNewsHound

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