A few weeks ago, I was stretching out in my living room
after a long day of work when I got a
sudden whiff of something familiar yet far away. The faint, crisp scent reminded
me of the sweetness of fallen leaves pressed beneath a hundred footsteps, with just
a hint of smoky wood-fire. It took me a few seconds, but I soon knew what it
was: the first hint of winter was in the air. I smelt it before my skin felt
the first goosebumps of chilly weather. The scent had me awash in a wave of pure
joy and contentment. Winter was on its way.
More and more, I am convinced that I was a member of the
canine species in my previous lifetime. My olfactory sense is arguably my
keenest, and occupies the lion’s share of all my sensory experiences, shaping
and dictating my choices and actions fairly often. Places, for example, have
very distinct scents of their own, and my instinctive reaction to the scent of
a city or town determines my overall impression of the place. The smell of
mountains, regardless of the specific area, always fills me with a sense of
peace. Mountains smell of pinewood forests and clean, sweet air. They smell of
water trickling down the slatey mountain
walls. Quite often, they are replete with the damp, hazy fragrance of fog , and walking
through a particularly thick cover, one can almost taste the mustiness that
accompanies the scent. It can be a revolting odour to some, but I associate the
smell of fog with peace and leisure. The smell of mountains is so deeply
entrenched in my memory that the mere thought of it brings the fragrance alive
to my nose, bringing with it a heart-wrenching desire to drop everything and
start travelling, stopping only when I am in the heart of Devbhoomi.
Memories have un uncanny way of hovering right underneath
the surface, ready to come alive at a moment’s notice. Years can pass by without
an incident or an individual ever coming to one’s mind and yet all it really
takes is the mere hint of the smell of the past for all the walls to come
crashing down in glib reminder of the throbbing urgency of the past that never
quite resolved itself. Then again, sometimes the memories are bittersweet,
making one heave a melancholy sigh and breathe in deeply in an attempt to
travel back to days – and people – from a long time ago.
In my mind, much of my past is arranged in boxes with their
own assigned fragrances. One of the fondest memories from my childhood is of
rainy afternoons in the family room, with the scent of petrichor wafting in
through the window after the first showers of the season. I would sit with my
parents around our massive bed, all of us engrossed into our own respective
books, stopping every now and then to breathe in the earth’s luscious odour.
Even today, few things give me more contentment than reading quietly in bed
with a loved one. Petrichor comes alive for me out of season, and is all the
better for it.
I have a mercurial temperament which often causes me intense
emotional turmoil and suffering. Sometimes, one of the only things that can
help me feel centred after a particularly rough day is soothing scents, usually
of the very Bengali dhuno, or the
somewhat more easily available lemongrass. These scents remind me of home, of
love, and of belonging. Then there is the scent of pages from books, both old
and new, each holding its own special type of allure. If amour had a scent, it
would be the scent of ink on paper. Or perhaps it would be the scent of dew-drenched
grass. A tough choice to make.
But really, as with most other times in life, it is the
scent of people you love that really keep you going when the going gets tough.
The fragrance of security when ensconced in a parent’s arms, the scent of pure
adoration as the family dog nuzzles you, the scent of adventure that friends
bring with themselves as they drop by… and, of course, the cozy smell of peace
and belonging as you breathe deeply into your lover’s soft skin as sleep takes
you over, and then again the first thing as your day begins… Life is beautiful
if only one learns to appreciate the really important things, and smells.
