Madras Cafe - A Review

The first door-bell of the day had rung almost two hours earlier than usual that morning. It was still night-time, with the sun yet to rise at the horizon. My mother, still in her sleep, had opened the door to our cautious looking milkman. Upon being inquired as to why he had been so early today, he gave a single, crisp and wholesome response.

'Unhone Rajiv Gandhi ko maar dala..'
They have killed Rajiv Gandhi.

The Scent of Memories

I've always believed in a particularly enigmatic method of time-travel. And before you abjure this piece of information raising doubts on it's credibility, I'd put forward another claim. That you'll believe me when I explain.

It happens to all of us. A whiff of apple pie from the canteen window, the smell of chlorine at the swimming pool or the smell of an exotic cologne off a random person walking by. Whatever be the situation, our noses have a way of sniffing out nostalgia.

"Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived." - Helen Keller

I've always had an intensified sense of smell. When I was little, I would go about taking everything in with my nose in a dilettantish manner. Little did I know that a long time after that, those scents would come back stalking, haunting and frequenting their way into every unwary moment of reminiscence. I could smell interesting odours, uplifting aromas and soothing fragrances from miles away, but I could never smell trouble that was but only two inches away from my face!