Essence of Life

Of the five sense that we normal humans have, I think the olfactory aka the sense of smell invokes the deepest emotions. No doubt, all senses are important, but our sense of smell is not only a complete system in itself, it also completes the experience generated by the other senses. It is that basic but at the same time highly complex experience, a pass code to the time machine which transports us instantly to events, places and persons in our life.
First and foremost is ‘petrichor’ the scent of the earth after a spell of rain. So many memories are invoked, like running around in my grandfather’s rice fields, or a long walk in the woods while contemplating life.
The other day I was brewing a special brand of coffee and the aroma that filled the room took me to a sunny day in Amsterdam where Gauthier, our son-in-law made me a cup of soul-stirring coffee. We also had a mutually enlightening conversation about the various blends and brands of coffee. The same journey continued to Kaldis Cafe, Bole Road, Addis Ababa where my friend Berhane had left me stranded with a leading lady from the Ethiopian film industry(I never complained about it ). I distinctly remember the weird expressions on the faces of some fellow Indians who had forgotten the macchiato or cappuccino in their cups and were staring at us. It was lovely episode but I won’t bore you with the details.
It is natural that most aroma related memories are concerning food. Whenever a peculiarly unique aroma of goat meat curry wafts past my nostrils, the doorways of my mind open and transport me to our government colony in Pune where every Sunday goat meat was cooked in almost every household. The buildings would be engulfed with different aromas (every aunty had her own recipe). The most important memory of those Sundays is going to buy the goat meat with our Baba. He would teach me about checking the freshness of meat and what were the best cuts. I distinctly remember goat meat was rupees five a kg. That was our bonding time.
Not all food memories are about meat dishes though; an accidental whiff of rajma stew took me on a trip to Katra where I had the best rajma-chawal ever. After that the walk to the shrine of Vaishnodevi was a cake walk. It also conjured images of the various langars that dot the path on the trek to Amarnath. They serve many dishes but the rajma-chawal is divine.
Open a box of spices and it will take you on a journey to where they came from. Travelling on the Coorg -Kerala route is an ultimate indulgence for your olfactory senses. Roll your windows down and drive slowly. Along with the breathtaking scenery you will be bombarded with extravagant fragrances emanating from the cardamom bushes and other spice plants.
Perfumes too have an important role in the memories that we make. I am walking in a mall and an exotic fragrance hits my nostrils. It reminds me of my first foray in a duty free shop, where a helpful assistant taught me how to test the different perfumes without spraying them all on my body. I had bought a Chanel for the missus for the first time and the memory of her joyous smile still lights up many a dark night. She was so impressed that even after thirty years she has still kept that bottle, albeit empty. Perfumed memories are more of the intimate kind, so I won’t share them but one thing I can tell you; no matter what brand or what scent we spray behind the ears, they all taste the same; bitter. Don’t believe me? Try it
Cities too have a peculiar scent of their own. While travelling by train the smell of chemicals hitting your nose meant Mumbai was near. Nowadays one travels by AC Coach and the industries have closed down. The only smell is that of people crammed in a small space.
Not all aromatic memories are pleasant though. One day three of us bunked school and went crab hunting by the Mula Mutha river’s rocky banks. We caught quite a few and decided to roast them there itself. Instead of charcoal we used newspapers and some old bicycle tyres we found. God! I still have the taste of burnt paper and rubber on my tongue.

Have you ever traveled in an overcrowded bus or a Mumbai local? You get the whole bouquet of human generated scents! Whenever Asmita uses mustard oil in her cooking, I am reminded of a commute from Dadar to Dombivali, when a gentleman bathed in mustard oil from top to toe stood right under my nose. That one and half hours seemed like eternity.
The smell of disinfectant reminds me of Sassoon hospital where my grandma was being treated for cancer, or Ruby Hall where my father was admitted after his first heart attack, or my chemotherapy sessions. The scent of Iodex or Vicks is a constant companion at this age. Is this what the term “smell like an old person” means?
I want to finish this on an uplifting note. When I take our grandson Alec in my arms, this unique scent of a baby hits my nostrils and takes me back in time when a young father cradled his first born, and felt on top of the world, full of hope and optimism. I hold Alec tighter as if wanting to hold on to that memory forever.
There are so many more such memories and I am sure you too might have your own, so please share.
Those who don’t have any, take time off and smell the coffee.