The
truck purred down the lane towards the tiny building at the end of the rocky
lane. There I stood at the top of the stairs, waiting for the vehicle to come
to a halt. This was the day my life changed, forever. I walked down the stairs,
the heavy bags in my hand; and behind me followed my dad. In tow were two more
burly men, carrying the television set, and the queue continued. Into the truck
went all our belongings, and our stuff; but there was one thing which stayed
back, memories- and they were what we couldn’t take with us.
This
was an event I had gone through a year ago, when I shifted to a new house.
Today, I sit in my room, staring at the walls, reminiscing the past, and trying
to piece together the past I left back in the form of memories. But all I get
back at the instant are the blurred images, and I hope that I can get those
happy images I couldn’t carry back with me.
“Karan,
come for dinner! The foods almost ready! Complete your writing work after
eating,” my mom shouts from the dining room, breaking the trance I am in.
Reluctantly,
I get up from my place in the corner, and walk away with a glance at my
puffed-up face in the mirror, holding back a grimace. The kitchen is next to my
room, and as the food sizzles on the stove, its fragrance captures me. And it
all returns.
There
I am, sitting next to the stove, with a book in hand- dangerously close to the
flame, yet feeling so cool. The onions simmering in the hot oil in the pan, with
their succulent smell enticing me away from ‘Charlie and the Chocolate
Factory’. I turn, in my usual weird kid style, with mom staring with wide eyes,
scared to the utmost level, to face the hot oil with its delicious looking
onions. I put my hands into the dangerous cavity and start gobbling the onions,
as mom looks on, fear along with a tinge of red in her eyes.
As
though kicking off a chain reaction, they all return. Those wonderful moments
spent gorging the food as it cooked on the hot flame. Alone in the day, and
with dad at night, this used to go on whenever the delicacies were prepared- eating
the fried potatoes made for ‘Alu Palak’ and the Pavs for ‘Pav Bhaji’; the papdams for the staple ‘Sambhar and
Rice’, and the other savories. The moments pass in front of my eyes, and I
smile. But there still is a large portion which remains blank. I walk ahead.
As
I wash my hands at the washbasin, the pungent smell of hand wash burns through
my nasal cavity. My hand travels unknowingly to my elbow, where stands the
great scar, a reminder of my fall as a kid. But that is not what simmers in my
eyes. With the water lapping up the lather on my hands, I slip back into the
past.
My
hisses permeate the room and so do father’s sighs. The gash on my hand stings
under the influence of the sanitizer. Dad blows air on it to soothe the pain as
I hiss with my jaw clenched and hands closed tight. At this moment, I can feel
the same pain, the same love and the same care of my dad as my hand rubs on the
oddly smooth skin. The image clears.
Mom
standing over me, watching me apply the sanitizer on my elbow, again. Shouting
about not taking care while playing, and all of the rest which we all hear as
kids. She takes the cotton from my hand and dabs deftly at the wound, making me
yelp in pain. It had all seemed like torture at that time, but now, the memory
presents me with a reminder of the love and the care. And I smile.
The
sweet smell of incense burning in the dining room wafts into my nose as I walk
into the chamber, a smile decorating my face. Grandma calls out to me to
continue our latest discussion about the story of her daily soap opera, her
voice drowns into the backdrop and the chants return.
Grandmother,
with her long silver hair, praying with a volume so high that God could surely
hear her voice in Heaven, and me down next to her. In my blue pajamas and
matching shirt, I lay on the floor, playing precariously with the burnt incense
powder. Grey soot, yet hot to touch, it burns my skin as I touch it and at my
soft whelp, grandmother turns to me.
I
don’t know how the conversation turns, but I am made to stand in the witness
stand again. A criminal, a culprit- all for the fact that I detest bananas and
do not eat them (I still go through these conversations, but it’s lighter now).
“You should eat bananas. If you do not like them, then eat them as a medicine,
one a day. You stay awake so late into the night, and eating bananas will give
you the strength.”
The
spark glitters in my mind, and I return to present, I realize the conversation
has reached the point it always ends at. With smiles, and a new glow on my
face, I make a hasty retreat, now furnished with various memories, old, happy
and joyful.
The
emptiness in me is replenished as the smells trigger the time machine of my
brain and bring back those moments which I could not remember normally. And I
am happy, and I smile. It is truly a ‘Smelly to Smiley’ moment for me.
This
post is written for the Smelly to Smiley Contest by Ambipur. You can get
more information from their Facebook page by clicking here: www.facebook.com/AmbiPurIndia
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