Everyone has flaws – some are magnanimous, defining the person, while others are minuscule, not visible to the untrained eye. It is the latter, with barely visible flaws who are perceived as ‘perfect’. And when even a tiny blotch appears on this pure veil of perfection, people feel deceived, not understanding, not knowing that a human can never be perfect. All one can ever be, if even that, is almost perfect.

Photo from here.

Fragrance of Memories

“When a moment seeps into your mind and imprints itself as a fond memory in your heart, it’s not just the sight you remember, but also the feel of it. Every sense in our body comes alive at such a moment, every detail of it intricately filled.”

It’s strange how a particular scent can trigger a memory. I’ve been transported back in time quite often by just taking a whiff of a fragrance familiar to me.

Whenever my nose catches the aroma of anything that smells similar to sarson ka tel, I am reminded of my dadi who oils her hair with the oil every morning. The fragrance is warmth to me.

The fragrance of wet earth, or of rain, cues my memory to Jodhpur, to my nana-nani’s home. Though it rains a lot (a lot) where I live, and it doesn’t really make sense to associate something as common as rain with a particular memory, I still get reminded of that one day in Jodhpur when it had rained so very heavily. The wind was howling and we had closed all the doors and windows to prevent the wild wind from breaking anything in the house. And it rained and rained. When the downpour finally stopped and the calm settled in, allowing us to open the windows, the cool and serene wind carried in the most soothing aroma. And the next day when it rained again, instead of just sitting in the house, my brother and I went out to play in the rain. Getting absolutely soaked in the rain tops my list of the most fun things to do.

These scents wrap a comforting blanket around me, make me feel at home even when I am not. They dip me in the tranquility that nostalgia usually carries, bringing a smile on my face.

Photo by Alisa Anton on Unsplash