My olfactory sense is the easiest to excite. The scent
stimulus of something could carry me back to the distant land of memories and
emotions.
I remember the greyness of the atmosphere, standing in front
of the canteen counter, queueing up to buy food. There was something in the
smell that is utterly unrecognizable to me. My family never ate out, we
couldn’t afford restaurant trips. My mother cooked exclusively. This whole new
concept of buying food where it is mass produced in a building perplexes me, even
more so when the smell is so overwhelming.
The canteen reeks of oil, of fried foods, of sambals, and
the floor detergent’s smell roll into one distinct aroma that is so strong it
had etched into my memories as the point of reference for a food court. I even
knew whenever they cooked a different menu, like the occasional chicken rice
during Teacher’s Day, because the overall accumulated smell would be slightly
different.
The canteen’s smell sometimes did seep again into my nose
some other time in the future, awakening the memories of the canteen.
Growing up, I remember the musky smell of Dashing talc in my
hostel almost as if it is one of the default settings of the block. Its omnipresence
was overbearing, and mysterious in a sense that nobody knows whose Dashing talc
is the one that originated all the smell, and the scent was particularly strong
when the hostel was empty. It’s almost as if the walls absorb all the smell and
they would release it once nobody was around.
I always hated the smell. It reminds me of the emptiness and
loneliness of life, and as a part of the boarding school, I associated the
smell as something negative.
I never knew how much smells affect me, until the time came for
me and my roommate to part.
I was trying to make sense of my sadness by writing
everything down, and the first question that I asked myself was, what do I remember?
And it was the smell of his clothes detergent that I remember
upmost, like an inescapable guilt. So the first line that I wrote about him
were about how the scent of his detergent suffocates the very life out of me,
yet it was a striking, fond memory that I would remember first about him.
Since then, I view life from a new dimension.
I remember watching a character in One Tree Hill whose
mother left her when she was small, and the only thing that she could remember
about her mother was her smell. She bought every different detergent just to
smell her mother again, to no avail.
I understood then, how important smells are for people.
Be it the oceanic scent of Polo, the Gucci Flora piercing
yet lulling aroma, the elegant zest of Paris Hilton’s Heiress, or the simple
stuff like detergent, soap, or even the smell of the rain, you know that smells
make up an integral part of our memories.
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