Smells, Sights, Sounds, Seasons and Solitude

The faint smell of the wet earth from far-away that heralds the beginning of an exciting season of showers tickles not only my olfactory sense, but also the thought process that usually is the sole companion of a solitary soul. It has been a month of minimal work but I would not say that my mind has been idle all this time. Books that talk about wild adventures of dogs or about knight-errantry have kept the idleness at bay all through this time.

As I sit on the window pane in the middle of the almost dead night and contemplate on the mundaneness of life or my conjured endeavors to get some amount of excitement into it, my life starts rolling itself in front of me through the various smells and sights that had all been stored in the memory bank.

The smell of chlorine water of the swimming pool takes me back to the phase of my childhood where I was learning to swim. All I wanted during those days was to get out of the pool campus as soon as possible to avoid the harsh comments of my instructors. But I must applaud my mother for being adamant then about my swimming lessons which have been useful ever since.

The smell of medicines has always been an integral part of my memory probably from the day I was born. My father used to smell of medicines whenever he used to get home from his clinic. The frequent trips to his clinic during the school summer vacations and doing nothing there but sit on his “big chair” and doodle on the prescription pads came back to me. The compounder at the clinic was never satisfied pampering with some home made food. I had never thought that these “do nothing” trips would have such an impact on mind that they would show up after 15 years on a solitary contemplative night.

The smell of the dirty socks takes me back to my computer class in school. The school days were something I am not really proud of and also I would not want them to be a part of my active memory, but they form a large portion of memory none the less.

The smell of the earth that started this entire process helped me touch base with all the holidays in the mountains. I do not specifically remember the minute details of these holidays, but I must have surely enjoyed them as they were coming back to me on a happy note. The smell of the earth also brings back the times when I used to frequent the hills and talk to myself at lengths sitting amongst nature.

The smell of the masala chai comes along with the time spent in Dal Housie with Aniket. We had the one of the best chais till date there. The freshly showered trees, mountains, vacant streets, stray dogs and hot masala chai made for a perfect evening back then. It is dismal to accept that Aniket will not be around much to keep a tab on either his or my life.

The smell of the rotting fish brings back the sight of the smiling faces of all the people at House of Charity. The people housed there are going through a difficult patch of their lives, but one thing they will never forget is to give love without any expectations.

The smell of the sea has to do with the recent memories. These memories comprise of the “dreaming with your eyes open” sessions at Marine Drive, Carter Road, etc. with Rahul.

The smell of the cashew feni, hash in the air, perfumes is as fresh as the entire “finding happiness/peace and love” adventure in 2008. These smells remind me of that happiness is simple-a beach, the moon and the sound of the waves are all you need for a catharsis of divine emotions. The philosophizing session about “how inconsequential we are in this huge universe” with Sar is still so clear. These are things that I will never be able to let go of as a part of my soul is still going around Arambol. Happiness has found a new definition from then.

These thoughts are occasionally interrupted with some kind of a humming sound of machinery in the factory close by. This sound makes me feel so privileged. I feel privileged about the freedom and luxury that I enjoy. Freedom to think about my life in the middle of the night where as there are people who are working the night out to earn some bread.

The smell of the drains and the sewer that comes from a typical stray dog in Mumbai makes me smile. I smile at the thought of this smell because this smell comes from the only living being in my recent life who gives me hug for no reason whatsoever.

It feels good to know how the smells and the sounds have brought the seasons of my life back to me on this solitary night to provide me with the solace that one is on a look out for when he starts thinking too much by himself.