Nos(e)talgia

My soul floats away on perfume as other men's on music.
- Baudelaire

Recently, as I sat in a cab, waiting to be transported to the train station, I caught a whiff of my friend Rohini's perfume. I was instantly transported back in time to Maths lessons with Mrs Laghate, in my 7th standard classroom.

What amazes me about the human brain, is its ability to subconsciously record minute details about the environment around us, and use those as triggers to bring back vivid memories of times long gone. What’s even more amazing, is that these memories bring back the distinct feelings associated with those periods in our lives.

The smell of the first rains brings back that nervous anticipation associated with new beginnings. The flowery fragrance of anais anais - all the excitement and bliss of first loves and first kisses. The musty smell of old books takes me back to the hours spent at Kum Kum Library discovering the magical world of the far away tree and the five find outers. Mangoes – the glorious days of summer vacations and endless hours of Cartoon network.

How many times have we all wished that we could go back and relive a particular period in our lives. Proustian Memory as scientists call this phenomenon allows us the opportunity to do just that, if only for a few brief seconds.

Ephemeral Bliss

Sunday mornings.....My Big Red Mug of Tea....Newspapers....Long Baths....Calvin and Hobbes.....Favourite Songs.....Cloudy Days....

Ever experience those moments in which you believe life is perfect? The realization that you don't need other people or things to make you happy? That simple moment of complete self fulfillment - episodic self actualization - that comes from within....

I live for moments such as these....

Blotting Paper

Of Fairytales and Happy Endings......

Life was supposed to be all figured out by 23. By 23 i was supposed to have it all - Fame, Love and Fortune. Well i'm 23 now, Fame and Fortune? - Still a long way to go, and for Love - well, i'm still a believer, but not quite the same.

At 23 life's less figured out then it was in the days i wanted to be an astronaut or a teacher. I think the greatest difference between me at 12 and me at 23 is the slow deterioration of that cheery eyed optimism that was once so much a part of me.

Of late i find myself desperately hanging on to all things that bring back a semblance of that hope that seems to have eluded me. I guess deep down, i still want to believe in fairytales and happy endings.