Of Sweetness and Melancholy - Sights, Scents, and Sounds of Childhood

The list is long, very long; the list of things that bring my childhood to life. Very rarely do I allow myself the luxury of reminiscing about those days. But, if I am not watching myself, I fall in inside this endless well of memories very willingly. Today was one such day. Two people fell today; my sister and I. Together we went through our 16 years worth of shared experiences – mental reels of flashing frames, hundreds per second, in our minds’ eyes with accompanying sounds, textures, smells, and flavors. As the rule of Nature dictate, nothing must remain constant. Our lives have followed that eternal principle. I am no longer in the same city, let alone country. People, who once were very close, are now distant and new friends have been found among strangers. Those old homes are now mostly just structures where others live but new houses have been made homes. These fleeting images, effervescent as bright fireflies, have the power to transport me to simultaneously to those many places, separated by time and space, which define my childhood. 

Among the colors that wash the inside walls of my memory, red stands out the most. There was the bright, deep red of my grandmother’s lipstick-assisted bindi¹. It used to be right in the middle of her forehead, later it was gone after my grandfather passed away. So were her collections of flat-headed red Lakmé² lipsticks.  The maroon on my mothers’ bindi has remained the same, the diameter albeit has kept increasing. The association with round and red does not end there. My grandparents once bought me a large round red plastic tub when I was a toddler. I am told I’d wallow in it during long summer months, along with the heaps of mangoes floating besides me. This made devouring endless number of mangoes very easy. That brave stalwart still lingers on – now as the dirty laundry receptacle. Ber³ and phaalsey⁴, the small, round, tart red fruits eaten in heaps with salt sprinkled on them, added excitement to our lives at the cost of bouts of laryngitis (which we were constantly told was caused by their consumption).  Then there is blue. My earliest childhood memory of my mother is of her swathed in a soft, powder blue sari. Her broken blue bead necklace was constant feature above our fridge. Imprinted on my mind and synonymous with St. Anne’s school, were our ink-stained blue fingers, trophies of the laborious process of replenishing our fountain pens with ink from the round inkpot.  The shocking clear blue of Jodhpur⁵ sky on a cloudless, scorching summer day has a permanent association with slick sweatiness of “games” period at school.

Phaalsey

The greens was no where more oppressively felt than in the dripping afternoons of Barrackpore⁶, spent trying to pull down snails from their vertical scaling of walls. The dark-green capsicum shaped ceramic bowl, a permanent and prominent fixture of the flora and fauna of the ecosystem on top of our fridge, contained a veritable jungle of odds and ends. With its loot of rusting keys, safety pins, elastic bands, leftover capsules, flush tank washers, washerman’s crumped bills, it was often command central of our household. Also in the ancient relic fridges of Jaipur⁵ and Jodhpur, featured the last acts of many a glass jar. Jam containers in their previous lives, these faithful servants now devoted to showcasing the brilliant greens of coriander chutney. There were other colors too - the resplendent saffron and ochre of sunset-lit sand dunes in Jaisalmer⁵, the opulent purples and golds of my mother’s silk saris, the sombre browns of the cracked earth of Nalia⁷, the quiet dignity of the khakee of Shanker Baba’s uniform as he sat drinking tea from a saucer every evening, the handsome greys of my father’s hair that replaced the inky black of their predecessors, the delicate whites of mogra⁸ and harsingar⁹ flowers that would litter the porch of my grandparents’ home every morning in Udaipur⁵. And finally, the entire rainbow seemed to come alive in my sister’s glass bangle collection; in their neat rows suspended from wire clothes hangers, vibrant hues in delicate glass promising the soft melody of happiness.

Jaisalmer

Scents have been even more evocative and powerful in my mind than colors.  Unforgettable and instantly recognizable is the soothing freshness of my mother’s lavender perfume, the invigorating citrus of my father’s daily Cinthol¹⁰ talcum powder dousing, the nose-tickling Cantharidin¹¹ hair oil that my Nana used, and the pungency of my Nani’s Bengay¹² pain-reliever cream applied liberally everyday. My mother’s lime rice and oondhiya¹³ recipe, my father’s first Hyderabadi biryaani¹⁴, the ubiquitous egg bhurji¹⁵ and paranthe¹⁶ of Air Force mess, the delicious promise of bread toasted on a pan with home-made ghee, of mouthwatering smell of mango and lime pickles cozy in their bottles and barnii¹⁷, basking in the mid-afternoon sun. Old books in the library in Udaipur or the top-level room at the Jodhpur house, with their bevies of darting silver fish, smelled musty and were deeply treasured.  Smell and taste were never more indistinguishable as when the neembu-glycerin¹⁸ combination stung your winter-cracked lips during blustery winters, the railway pantry attendant wailed “cutlass” referring to the wonderfully oily Indian Railways vegetable cutlets, our indomitable Sumit¹⁹ mixer attempted to take on dosa²⁰ batter on Sunday mornings and voiced its protest in form of a burning rubber smell, the small cups of tea wafted out the sweet smell of ginger with their inevitable companions of delicate rusk toasts²¹ or Parle-G²² biscuits, and the open sewers around Pokar Sweet Home²³ or Garib Bakery²⁴ that did nothing to distract from the feasts of sweets inside.

Steam Engine, Northern Railways (Indian Railways)

And then, there are the sounds. Sounds of the milkman in the frozen early mornings of Rajasthani winter, the bread-walla in the mid-morning sun, the ice-cream walla in the blistering summer afternoons evoking orange lolly-flavoured dreams, the screech of chalk on blackboards that jostled those long sleepy Sanskrit classes, the threatening rumble of an impending sand-storm in Jaisalmer, and the metallic clank of the beat-up aluminum pressure cooker whose sad broken handle reminded one of the dignity of a life spent in work and service.  Sounds of daily life are the most evocative of feelings and fondly remembered. The Sunday morning Rangoli²⁵ music and the dread of impending Krishi Darshan²⁵ or Sansad Samachar²⁵, the belting of Harry Belafonte and Begum Akhtar²⁶ melodies from our zealously loved music system, the wonderfully witty Urdu repartee of Dhoop Kinarey²⁷ as it played on the Keltron²⁸ TV with round dials, and the summer vacation ritual of playing and replaying old Hindi movie songs from old vinyl LPs in their geriatric record player. The whine of the TVS/Champ²⁹ Moped as it was coaxed to life every morning, and the heckling of peacocks and koyal^30:  birds from within the neem trees that lined our school compound while we sat removing sand from our school shoes compete for attention. A sound stands out in my memory. It is the toot and whistle of train engines shunting down the old Udaipur train station, frequented daily by our little group of grandfather with his granddaughters.

Keltron TV

It is difficult to shrug the hold of past memories - they bring me an addictive joy mixed with sweet-smelling melancholy. But must I part with them? Can they not accompany me on this present journey? Can they not become friends with the new memories one makes everyday? Watch me fall again!

Glossary:

1. Bindi: vermillion forehead decoration worn mostly by Hindu women, symbolizing married state.
2. Lakmé: an Indian company that makes cosmetics like lipsticks.
3. Ber: Ziziphus mauritiana; red, tart, wild berry-like fruit found in North India.
4. Phaalsey: Grewia asiatica; round, tart, deep pink fruit from North India.
5. Jodhpur, Jaipur, Udaipur, Jaisalmer: cities in the North Indian state of Rajasthan.
6. Barrackpore: town in the Indian state of West Bengal.
7. Nalia: small town in the Indian state of Gujarat.
8. Mogra: Jasminum sambac; small white flower with strong pleasant scent.
9. Harsingar: Nyctanthes arbortristis; another small white flower with orange stem.
10. Cinthol: Indian brand of talcum powder.
11. Cantharidin: Indian brand of hair oil containing Cantharidin.
12. Bengay: American brand of topical analgesic.
13. Oondhiya: An elaborate Indian dish made with mixed vegetables and chick-pea flower dumplings.
14. Biryaani: An elaborate Indian dish of rice and meat.
15. Bhurji: scrambled eggs cooked with onions and spices, staple in Indian homes.
16. Parantha: Indian shallow fried bread.
17. Barnii: Traditional Indian ceramic jars.
18. Neembu-glycerin: concoction of glycerol with lemon juice, used as skin moisturizer during winter months.
19. Sumit: Indian brand of mixers-grinders and other kitchen appliances.
20. Dosa: South Indian delicacy, crisp crepes made of rice and lentil flour.
21. Rusk: hard biscuit, often eaten with tea.
22. Parle-G: Very old Indian brand of biscuits.
23. Pokar Sweet Home: A famous sweet shop in the Northern Indian city of Jodhpur
24. Garib Bakery: A famous bakery in the Northern Indian city of Jodhpur.
25. Rangoli: Indian national TV show featuring Bollywood movie songs. Krishi darshan is another national TV show focusing on agriculture and farmer issues. Sansad Samachar: News program of Parliament proceedings.
26. Begum Akhtar: a popular North Indian female singer of classical Indian vocal music. Now deceased.
27. Dhoop Kinarey: Pakistani television series from the late 1980s.
28. Keltron: State-owned television brand of India.
29. TVS Champ: Small moped, manufactured in India in 1980-1990s.
30. Koyal: Eudynamys scolopaceus, a bird of the cuckoo family found in South Asia