The Smell Check

Most of us get nostalgic with smell. The way poets and romanticists describe the smell of earth with the first drizzle kissing it is quite cliched. It is this sense that we are most conscious of and first react to. While you pass by a garbage truck you instantaneously tend to close your nose. When you have a bad stomach and tend be on a gaseous high, you are conscious about the fact that someone would spot you spoiling the atmosphere. And some people when they pass air in company wickedly pass the blame onto others.

Just like animals respond to pheromones, we too are a victim of our nose. We unconsciously hate farters. We unconsciously drown in perfume before a date. More than looks it is smell that's a huge turn on. Its a matter of prestige too.Suppose your dream partner came before you, and you discover that he or she smelt like unwashed socks, I am sure your dreams would change. According to a recent survey, most men and women rated body odour as the biggest turn off they found in their partner. It is the sense of smell that makes the food we eat appetizing. If a rotten egg smelt like a rose, we wouldn't be hating rotten eggs. Instead we'd have rotten egg perfumes and soaps. Spa's would make u bathe in rotten egg. Now let me come to the point here.The sense of smell plays a very important role in our lives. More than the sense of touch, or hearing we pay a lot of attention to the sense of smell. At least I do.

It is because of my hyper-sensitized nose, I find it terribly difficult to travel by the local MTC buses. When I was a child, I remember getting squeezed under stinky arm pits and storms of sweat.(It is more disgusting to be in such situations than to read it. So stop getting disgusted now.)I wished the government would install air fresheners in buses instead of radios and boards with some random job advertisement. So thereafter, I decided to take share autos, which is the next best and inexpensive alternative to the buses. The good and bad thing about share autos is you always, get a seat but many times you get a seat next to human skunks. Thank god their arms were down and I wouldn't have to face the hideous experience again. But there was this particular day, I don't recall which day it was, but a sexy guy got into the share auto. When I say sexy, he was tall, wheatish, had the perfect nose, cute black eyes,and silky hair. He wore a swatch on his right wrist. He wore Ray ban sunglasses and look little bit like Shahid Kapoor. I am sure if he had a six pack or something close, he could easily qualify as the hottest model and walk the ramp on on Lakme fashion week. He looked drop dead handsome. It was love at first sight. The moment he entered the share auto and sat next to me I was flattered.

The good thing about share autos is when cute guys get in you can sit close to them. There is a good excuse, always the space is too less.The moment this guy got into the share auto, the air was filled with an aroma. It wasn't the usual Axe effect that filled the air. This fragrance was soothing and gentle.I thought to myself " No wait this was a familiar smell. Shit it was damn familiar." I tried recalling what it was. Oh Boy!! Sitting next me was a hot guy, who smelt great. More than a good enough reason to dream. He got off at a stop before mine. The aroma still filled the air. I tried hard racking my brains. The aroma was way too familiar. Then it struck me. Damn!! It was Davidoff strawberry perfume. The hot guy ..oops the hot gay next to me used a woman's perfume. Damn!!! And I was all happy to be sitting next to him. I just wished my brain had recalled the smell a bit faster.

Pleasing

My maid servant came up with some gyan the other day. Here it goes "All of us love pleasing others. More than pleasing ourselves, we like pleasing others. Knowingly or unknowingly we please someone or the other every day. When we please someone knowingly it gives us a lot of pleasure. That's why we all please god. But amma, you know something; my life got wasted just by pleasing others. You also don't do that."
It was too much gyaan to deal with, all at one time.

While I was thinking about what to write, her words came to my mind. The world couldnt do without pleasing, I thought. Actors need to please their audience. Writers need to please their readers. Business men need to please their investors. If my father hadn't pleased my mother and vice versa, I wouldn't have been born today. Many give up their dreams to please others. Many give up priced possessions to please others. Many even sacrifice love to please others.

When I was in school, I did my homework only to please my teachers. I did home work only to get good grades. My parents in turn, would be pleased to see those A's and A pluses. I never did the homework to please myself. I have never felt bad when I got an A- or B+. It was the repercussions these grades would have at home, thats always made me worried. Left alone I didnt give a damn! Whenever the results for exams were approaching, I would begin the task of trying to please god. I would promise god that I would go around the temple near my house one hundred and eight times chanting the Hanuman chalisa. It never occurred to me then that if pleasing god was so simple, then I might as well could have asked god to scrap exams all together.

When it came to choosing a career, I gave up my choice just to please my parents. I convinced myself saying that they knew better. I wasn't the only person who wanted to please my own parents. Everyone wanted to. I thought I did please them by giving up dream of becoming a lawyer, but they thought they had done me good by saving me from making the worst mistake of my life. At work, I try pleasing my boss. Whether I like her or hate her I definitely cannot remain without pleasing her.Sometimes pleasing others makes us happy. Many times it gets frustrating. Every time my boss asks me how her attire looks, I'd have to lie to her that it is gorgeous. I would be pleased to tell her that she dresses up like a vamp.

Just as these thoughts about pleasing others cross my mind, the other day I saw this woman at a popular health store in the city. She was a tall, slim, fair skinned and looked attractive. Her hair was artificially straightened and she wore a simple salwar kameez and a small bindi on her forehead. She appeared to be 25 or 26 years of age.I assumed she was unmarried as I didn't see any mangal sutra hanging from her neck, nor did she wear any rings on any of her fingers. She stood in front of me in the queue, waiting to get the items billed. When the store keeper removed the items she had placed in her basket for billing, for a moment, I was taken aback. There were 15 boxes of Durex condoms. Some were glow condoms, some were chocolate flavoured and some were strawberry. There were vibrators too. Standing in front of me was a woman who came to buy condoms for her man.She chose what he would use. She was one woman who was definitely pleasing herself, I thought. I admired her guts and was pleased to see women's empowerment right in front of my eyes.

Intimacy

It was smoking hot.
Their lips didn't meet,
Their bodies didn't touch,
A friendly banter came by once in a while,
Love filled the air.

A cool breeze blew,
Their bodies trembled,
Not because of fear
Not because of titillation,

He was sitting on a swing,
She was gently moving it for him,
They played with each other's minds.
A game both understood very well.

It was at nine in the night
I noticed the old couple from my balcony,
The man was on the swing,
The lady on the chair.

What stood between them was
a neatly placed chess board.
What stood between their minds
was nothing but "Intimacy".

Chai,Chai - Travels in places you stop but never get off

When I walk into landmark or any book store, the last thing that I would buy is a travel book.Why would I read a travel book when Discovery Channel or Nat Geo showed me wonderful images that I can never erase off my memory.As I walked through every section scanning for new books, a book named Chai Chai- Travels in places you stop but never get off, caught my eye. The author's name was very familiar. Bishwanath Ghosh rang a bell in my head. I kept moving from section to section flipping through books trying to recall who Bishwananth Ghosh was.

Finally, I bought some stationery and decided to leave. As I stood in the queue waiting for the items to be billed, I saw a stand with the latest magazines and papers. There was cosmopolitan, Femina, Star Dust, Madras Musings, and then Indian Express. The moment I saw the New Indian Express, it struck me who Bishwanath Ghosh was. He was a famous columnist. He wrote a column called sunday spin which I never missed. I have some of his articles neatly cut and clipped in my cupboard.He was my inspiration. It was he who made fight for breaking "The Hindu" tradition at home. Although the tradition of "The Hindu" never broke at home, a new tradition of buying the Sunday express followed. Now for a long time I neither saw the name Bishwanath ghosh nor the Sunday spin column.Quietly I came out of the queue and ran to the new arrivals section. I took this bright yellow book in my hand and straight went to the billing counter. The last thing Bishwanath Ghosh could do was put you to sleep. This faith made me buy the book with all confidence.

Chai Chai describes the journey of the author to the big railway junctions in India. I never knew so many even existed. He starts off from Mughal Sarai in Uttar pradesh. Ghosh describes the train journeys so vividly that you recall some of the best train journeys in your life. He tells you the different ways in which different people in India travel. How south Indians make it a point to carry Idli's on the train while Marwari's bring five full meals neatly packed.

The author takes you through the journey of almost the entire length and breadth of the country. He starts from Mughal Sarai trvels to Jhansi,Itarsi,Guntakkal,Arakonnam and finally ends his journey at shoranur. He describes the life in these cities and his experiences there. No traveller would ever explore all of these places. No news channel or paper would cover these places unless there was a bomb blast or train accident.

As you read Chai Chai you'd notice that the author expresses his love for whisky quite evidently.This doesn't make the book shallow or a bad read. A perfect mix of facts and entertainment, I would call it. This was one of the few travel books that wasn't filled with facts and eight letter long words, which would take me at least ten minutes to figure out if it were an adjective or adverb. I would have definitely missed a good read had I not picked the book that day.Now I know why the railway system is the spine of the nation.Now I know why we have a separate Railway budget. Now I knew how some cities in India would be non existent if the railways wasn't there. He's given travel writing a new dimension, I must say.

And next time when I'd travel on a train, I would recall Bishwanth's journey more than mine.

Eating maggi together in wet weather

We met, we talked, and we liked each other,

The more we talked the more we liked.

The more we liked the more we loved.

The more we loved, we never met.

The more I knew him, the more he knew me,

As we began talking more, we started loving more,

But ,we never saw each other more and more.

We ate magi together during the wet weather,

Listened to sad songs and cried together.

But still we never met each other.

We never ruled each other’s thoughts,

We never had demands from the one another,

Still we loved each other and

Ate maggi together during wet weather.

Mistakes

Mistakes are made,

Mistakes are felt,

Mistakes are buried,

And mistakes are bred.

Mistakes teach you,

Mistakes follow you,

Mistakes trouble you

And Mistakes help you.

Mistakes tittilate you,

Mistakes kiss you,

Mistakes love you.

And mistakes can't live without you.

Life would be simpler if you just

eat, sleep,love,and kiss your mistakes.

A "mistakeless" life is one without

kissing,loving or learning.

Self indulgence at Five Rupees

Until yesterday I thought that drowning myself in wine or chocolate, or rose petals followed by a body massage with the most expensive and rare aroma oils, could be the best thing in this world. I called this self indulgence until yesterday. Only the descendants of the Raj kapoor clan or one of the Ambanis could afford this kind of self indulgence on a daily basis. And damn!!!! I envied them for this. I always wished someone would present me with one of those 99.99% discount coupons to one of the posh spa's in town, and I could indulge in myself without feeling a wee bit guilty about wasting money.

But let me tell you, yesterday my perception changed. It was 5.00 pm in the evening, and while I was wondering what could kill my boredom which was eating my head, I just got reminded that I had forgotten to pay my Dad's credit card and mobile bills which he asked me to pay in the morning itself. I decided to walk it down, as the weather in chennai for a change was very windy and pleasant. Half way down it began to rain. There wasn't even a slight warning in the form of drizzle and the rain came with a bang. Now I ain't like any of those filmy heroines who loves to get wet in the rains and dance to tunes. Rains are such a pain I tell you. All your clothes get messy and your shoes and pants are messed with mud. The wet weather irks me and I hate it. In chennai with many drains overflowing the rain mixes with sewage and there is a high probablitiy that you are walking on diluted urine.

Before I could find a roof above my head I was all wet. So there was no point now to go and huddle up in front of those big showrooms along with old uncles and aunties. The last thing I ever wanted , on the top of getting wet was caress my wet shoulders with theirs. So I was walking with the rain. I finally reached the destination and paid the bills. The man at the counter looked at me with disgust while taking the wet cheque from my hands. I wanted to tell him " what are you staring at dumb ass??? You'd look more disgusting if wet", but I just kept quiet. Instead I gave him a nasty stare that would have told him lots more.

As I got out of the showroom, I carefully tip toed so as to avoid the muddy puddles just when a fast indica, splashed all the muddy water over me. I was fuming. I spewed the worst words I ever knew at the driver. As I was busy cursing the driver, a man in a cart selling peanuts distracted me. Wow Peanuts were the best thing that could drive away all my depression right now, I thought.

I dug deep into my bag and found one wet and slightly torn five rupee note. I walked up to the cart and asked him for peanuts worth 5 bucks. He was happy to see me. In the rain I was his only customer. He quickly took the hot peanuts into his measurement cup and packed it into a cone with papers from an old tamil magazine. The cone had the photo of Namitha - tamil cinema's sex bomb on it. I gave him the soaked torn note. He didn't seem to mind. He took it with a smile. Seeing me buy the peanuts, a small boy and his mother on a Scooty also stopped to buy some peanuts. I felt good about it. I had brought the poor chap some business. I was his lucky charm, I thought.

I was so excited about the the peanuts. It was warm and as I was holding it in my hand, I felt like I was in heaven. I was walking on the middle of the road. Cars honked loudly behind me and threatened to splash muddy water on me. I could care less. I couldn't get more wet and more muddy. I felt like the king of the world. The aroma of the hot salted peanuts and the feeling of it cracking in my mouth made me feel like I was in a spa with rose petals and honey. With the cool wind blowing and the rain dying out, and with each peanut that cracked inside my mouth I felt high. I felt better than heaven. It was self indulgence at Rs.5.

As I walked back home, I carefully crafted a small paper boat out of the paper with Namitha's picture and let it float. The boat with Namitha didn't float for long, but my satisfaction did.