Gfjkdjhjgh

Gfjkdjhjgh

That’s what I’ve decided to call it.
Defined (by me) as a particular smell/fragrance/sound/ visual/touch that brings back certain memories.

Yesterday as I stepped into the lift, I knew someone on my right was regular pan masala junklie. This faint smell of pan masala stains on cotton is very very my nana.

My nana ate pan masala like a child (and some adults) eats mango. He generously shared this treat with his kurta/shirt or whatever.
And my nani being the woman she was, meticulously scrubbed away those stains.
Although, the stains mostly lost to her iron will, the fragrance stubbornly remained.

That day in the lift the pan masala on cotton was my Gfjkdjhjgh.

After many years I thought of my nana.
In his last years he was suffering from an illness called dementia. It’s a condition not very unlike Alzheimer’s. The brain looses almost all cognitive functions. People don’t forget where they kept their car keys but how to use them. In cases even body functions, like feet are used for what? It’s not just the patient who suffers but people around him are equally affected.

Though nani selflessly took care on nana, there were days when even her resolve would fail. On one such occasion after xyx, nani burst into tears. Although nana did not recognise her as his wife, her sorrow made him cry too.

And in painful innocence, that I believe even kids don’t have, he asked me: “Suno ladki, jab hum rote hain toh ankh se paani kyon nikalta hai?”

It was the most fundamental question. Basic and simple. Like, why’s the sky blue?
I don’t know why tears spring forth when we cry. But contrary to my habit, it’s one answer I’ve not rushed to Google for.