I got up in
the morning, stretched my arms and smelled my palms, then hugged myself. The
biggest baddest hug possible; then I closed my eyes and felt her. My mother is
always around me especially in the mornings, though we live 1000 kms apart but
there is something that has kept us connected.
When I was
moving out of the house my mom told me to hug myself every morning, like I use
to hug her when I was with her. She said she is in me. And this way I would be
able to continue our morning hugs even when we are apart.
I tried doing
it but in the starting I just couldn’t feel her. I didn’t know what was missing
and I called her and said may be you are forgetting me, maybe that’s why I can’t
feel you when I hug myself in the morning.
She laughed
and told me to close my eyes, open my senses and my palms and smell them before
the hug. And then take a deep breath and hug again.
I closed my
eyes, smelled my palms, they smelled of her. The smell of our shared love of
cocoa body butter blended with a whiff of gulabjal just like her. I could smell
the haphazardly cleaned turmeric stain from my dress last night, just like her.
Yes she was there in my smell, in my habits, in me. I hugged myself and I could
feel her warmth around me. From that day onwards I have always felt her
presence around me.
Warm and sunny, like a bright Sunday morning
There you are pulling me out of the bed, yelling in my ears
“Good morning”
Rise and shine and take on the world
I am there with you, always holding your hands unnerved
As I walked towards the kitchen, I saw you keeping the tea to brew as
always my love. The Kettle whistles and lets out its steam and the kitchen was
filled with an aroma of fresh and mint
Fresh and minty just as I like
My first cup of the day always with you
Parle G dunked and licked
Newspaper opened and flicked
I close my eyes and sip through the memories
Of each cuppa shared with you, each sip divine, each memory
exemplary
My life, my love, my other half
Just then it started to rain, I ran and opened the balcony.I felt the
rains on my face and closed my eyes. The smell of rains and the sound of water
gushing down took me to memory lane.
Last few days with you
We walk down our favorite lane
And just then the rain gods came
People ran and got shelter
We ran and got wetter
Spicy chat and sweet Popsicle
Spice burns and sweet tickles
Our last alone day together
My sis, my love, my saviour forever
I came in completely drenched relishing the memories and picked up the
towel. I wipe, sniff and snicker. The towel smells flowery. It smells of
spring. It smells of lily and rose together. It must be the new washing powder
I laughed and said it out loud. How nice, flowery and wonderful. Just like our
weekly trips to the temple when we were kids. How funny is our mind, how weird
is our memory? My pink fuchsia towel takes me to a trip of the pious land, our
family temple.
Petals and petals of flowers
On the lane leading to the temple
A look at the face of Shri Ganesha
And my heart trembles
I sing loudly, songs in your praise
My trust in you strong, my believe never strays
After this I head out to the kitchen with a head still wet and a heart
still warm with so many wonderful memories. Wanting to make something special that
would make this day more precious; I started looking around the cabinet. And saw
my spice rack. It looked inviting filled with spices, colors and memories.
The turmeric....It reminds me of my endless coughs and
sneezes followed by a glassful of yellowed milk
Red Chilly...I take a sniff and get teary eyed. It reminds
me of all the gol gappas we had in a blink
Garam malasa....I open the bottle and the kitchen is filled
with memories of Sundays; spent on the dining table waiting for Mom’s special Chicken
Masala and our finger licks.
I smiled at the memories and added all the love flowing out of my
heart to the food. A sumptuous lunch and a long afternoon nap later I got up
feeling all refreshed and bright. As I walked through my house tidying
everything, I realised every object around me has a story. Not each story is
important but it is still a memory.
A deodorant brings back college memories,
A sniff of room freshener brings the first date back
The rose incense stick burning brings back the memories of
our wedding night
Fresh cut mango takes me to that summer afternoon of first
kiss
Whiff of freshly fried Samosas reminds me of the treat I
gave from my first salary
The smell of something burning reminds me of the first
burnt chapatti after my wedding
So many more moments, memories countless, immortal living
through our sense of smell
There are some moments that would remain lost like a hazy or a lazy
memory somewhere in our brains but weirdly our sense of smell gives them life.
It makes them more vivid, more colourful, and more nostalgic. So many
things, so many smells, so many memories alive and throbbing forever through our nose.
