Friday, April 04, 2008

the scent

"Then I fall to my knees
I grow weak, I go slack
As if she captured the breath of my
Voice in a bottle
And I cant catch it back"
-She Moves On, Paul Simon

The whiff of the perfume handed by the sales executive at the swanky mall takes me back several years. I don't need to see the name of the brand. It's etched in my mind. Just like the smell was for a good number of years. My knees start trembling. I politely tell her I will come back later and walk out for a good lungful of smoke. I need it badly. The nicotine spreading through my veins gradually pacifies the tornado in my head.

Long after the bottle was over, I used to smell the cap just to hold on to those memories. Venus was close to the Earth that time I remember. Just one of those random things that comes back to mind all of a sudden. I can suddenly smell the gun powder and hear the staccato of a machine gun burst in the background somewhere once more.

I smile to myself as I sit in the cab that will take me home. The sudden surge of emotions vanished as quickly as they had emerged. I will never forget the name of the brand ever. Was very apt for what I had experienced then. Those were different times, I was a different person.

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