Smells

Smells always told me more than I could see.
Well! almost always...
As long as I remember, I smelled sunshine, rain, heat and dampness.
Even indoors. 

I could smell rain in parched afternoons when no rain was in sight.
When the whole world felt completely exhausted and fell silent in a slumber
I pressed my cheek hard against the iron railings in our small balcony
And smelled with all my might for rain, through the thick sheet of sunlight
that makes you go blind by its brilliance in the mid-summer day....
I knew if I could find that smell of rain, the whole neighborhood would wake up
Like the enchanted city that woke up when Sindbad killed the wicked witch.

I could smell days of the week.
Mondays smelled of detergent, fresh uniforms, polished shoes, 
but it also smelled of routine.
Thursdays smelled of sweat. 
The uniform could not take it any more, neither could I.
Thursdays also smelled of incense sticks. 
And it did not smell of blood as I passed the fish market, on my way to school. 
Just some fishy smell from yesterday. 
Sunday had the best smell, as I woke up to the smell of Sun.
I refused to open my eyes till I smelled it.
On the days it rained, my mother was cajoled to bring me a cover,
as the household stirred in our two bedroom flat.
On those Sundays, another smell woke me up - 
A whole neighborhood smelling of mutton curry!

The home also smelled different in presence of different people...
I knew my father was home when I could smell boot leather.
One of my favorite authors could smell old age.
I on the other hand, could sometimes smell uncomfortable joint living..
I realized it much later that one can. One actually can!
The pungent smell in beautiful homes 
That all of a sudden makes you sick in the stomach.
The stale air. Have you felt it?
Open the windows, leave the doors ajar, 
The smell refuses to go away.
It sits on the words exchanged, lips upturned, frowned looks in those houses.
between the framed photographs on the walls that are not looked at,
Not cared for. 

I can not smell love though. Not anymore. 

It smelled of rain at one point in time...
Then of thunderstorms.
Much later like the star-filled nights of late autumn. 
It once smelled of warm bed and smoking hot coffee. 
Not anymore. Now I can no longer tell love from no love.
I have lost the identification of that smell now. 

Now, it all seem similar....
Love and denial of love, care and no care, trust and no trust.
They sit so close that they are mingling in my head. 
The boundaries are getting blurred...
They increasingly smell the same. 

Nonetheless, I trust smells to tell me much more than I can see.
Always. 
I finally found why!
The other day when I visited a winery,
The guide urged, "Use your nose. 
Your tongue can only identify six basic types.
Your nose? One trillion!"