What is it about the smell of a new book? That sharp enticing tang of goodness in my nose is so captivating I can barely breathe enough in one go. If anything, it smells of promises. Promises of fresh beginnings. Promises of a hope of something new and exciting and engaging. Somehow I can never seem to get over this gentle whiff of aroma gushing out of new books. Always magnetic.
The other day I ran to the kitchen when my mom was about to open the pressure cooker, just in time to catch the tempting smell of her home made khichdi. It took me back to all those years we used to cook khichdi in the evenings and chill and relax, watching TV and being a simple family who lived together and ate together. Home. If ever home could be a feeling, it would probably be the smell of that puddle of ghee in the plate full of khichdi we savor so happily.
And then another day, I was again in the kitchen chit chatting with my mom as she prepared my favourite bhindi. Bhindi is the smell of my childhood. The smell of my lunch box. The way it used to smell the moment I would open the box in the recess. That ever so inviting, ever so delicious bhindi ki sabzi… For a moment, I was again that little girl in lower kindergarten with a hanky tucked in her middy, careful to finish the whole box of bhindi my mom had packed to school.
Nothing brings to mind a forgotten memory like a fragrance…