Sweet memories are like sparkly red
beads held together by delicate threads on the shore of life’s azure blue; a
shore abundant with experiences. Whether with the nonchalant breeze or the
uneasy winds, these beads emerge from beneath the sandy hues to carry us to
that very moment in time when the memory was conceived. And at that point
everything else seems irrelevant for we seem to be in a time wrap, away from
the present, in the lap of the times of yore!
Memories are riches that are
forever ours. They are precious pearls in life’s oyster! That walk down our
memory lane is thankfully ours for eternity with bends added at every passing
juncture.
It is the work of our mischievous
five senses - vision, hearing, smell, taste and touch; taking us back in time,
often years in the past, where we were the happiest. They are triggers that
subconsciously help us associate moments to memories before they fade away into
the universe. These senses set off the chimes of nostalgia to cascade images of
the past in our minds eyes. Out of all the senses though, it’s the smell that
seems to be bestowed with incredible magical powers.
A whiff, a trace of that familiar
scent carries us beyond the horizon as we see ourselves relive times etched in
our hearts and minds forever. I too have innumerable memories that come and go
stealthily with ephemeral scents. Like there’s an aroma that takes me back to a
Sunday afternoon in my childhood when with the remote in my sister’s hand, I
sat blissfully watching Mr. Flintstone orchestrate his antics. The joy of
watching television with her always much more precious than Alibaba’s
treasures! But then all of a sudden, the netted beige curtains of the room
began a slow waltz and with it brought the aroma of my mother’s Sunday chicken curry. As if with a magic wand mother sent
forward her trusted allies, those enticing whiff of spices, to pull us towards
her kitchen and indeed pulled we were! In a trance, we walked towards her
leaving Mr. Flintstone with Barney. And it was right there, the yummy Sunday chicken curry and we binged on it
even before lunch was served! Yes, that was one of our Yabadabadoo moments on Sundays while growing up! And now every time
when the chicken curry I prepare spreads that same aroma, I seem to fall
through a worm hole landing right in that serene cottage in Shillong where I
grew up; landing right in my mother’s kitchen with my sister in tow waiting to
devour a dish I grew up loving!
The fathomless ocean of memories has
millions of droplets each entwined with unique fragrances. So it’s not a memory
or two, but infinite recollections that we hold dear, each evoked by a
distinctive scent. The smell of new clothes carries me atop a red magical
carpet to those October mornings of Durga
Pooja; to those times of merriment with friends and family. It takes me to
the shopping sprees with my precious three, my family, where
we remained immersed in discussions about the number of dresses my sister and I
needed for five days of celebrations. And then the scent of wicks soaked in
pure ghee or camphor at home always transports me to the days of pandal hopping, lavish feasts and
musical evenings, times of overwhelming glee!
And how can I not mention the sweet
smell of the pages of a new book. Blissful! A new book, my new pack of treasure
holding in itself a different world altogether! Every time I pick up a new
book, the scent of its pages carries me to my childhood through a whirlpool of
memories to the point when I stayed awake at nights turning at its pages
feverishly! Even today before I sink into a book; an involuntary short trip
down memory lane is what I take, led by its scent, to a time when contentment
equalled books!
There are so many more! Sometimes
it’s the perfume that seems oddly familiar to the one used by mom and dad when
I was a kid. It takes me specifically to one winter night, their wedding
anniversary which was also the night before one of our final exams. It takes me
to that day perhaps because my dad gifted that perfume to mom on that night
while she was busy making us revise our lessons for the next exam. I still
remember it came in a magical pack of black and violet, I can’t recall its name
though. It was a perfect day while we remained seated at the dinner table full
of delicacies, eating, laughing and for a moment forgetting the exam the day
after!
However, the best of them all is
the sweet scent of my mother’s caress. Every time I take out her old shawl I
feel her presence around me. The warmth of her hug engulfs me even when I am
miles away from her just by a whiff off her favourite shawl.
Perhaps scents are life’s way of
carrying with itself prized moments. Maybe they are the universe’s way of
reminding us about pivotal times in life, some known while some almost
forgotten. Whatever the reason, they do manage to evoke emotions unparalleled
by any.
A
whiff here and there,
Of
times far yet so near,
Ah
that familiar touch bare,
Sweet
scent of love and care,
Nostalgia
of the bygone flair,
Oh
dear memory,
You
are life’s favourite love affair!