SMELLS of the CITY

I wrote this for a website which had given the title 'city smells'. Someone read it & told me they cldnt understand. So, good luck :-) Hope you do!

The sun is just warming up the neighbourhood. Soon, a glint through the leaves of the Neem tree catches my eye. This slowly turns into a mellow ray and, as I am about to glance away, I am bathed in a shower of sunlight. Rays of soothing heat lets off the bitter, medicinal aroma of the leaves.

A slightly cold breeze pushes at my skirt urging me to drift along. ‘I see a lot. Much more than anyone’, breeze tells me. “I am happy with what I can see”, I murmur under my breath. I do not want to go. I stamp my feet against the floor. I feel a shove. I am adrift. He is by my side but it is not reassuring enough.

We fly past the gate and encounter the rotten smell of the previous day strewn around by cats, dogs and bandicoots in search of waste to fill their stomachs. We crinkle our noses and drift some more.

Empty crates are stacked on the road-side. Packets of milk that were in the crates are gone. They were delivered at doors of many a house when still dark. Some leaky packets have left behind a puddle that sent milky ness wafting out to us. We find ourselves smiling for no particular reason. Suddenly, we are pushed by a great gust.

Turning a corner we see a ‘greens’ hawker filling large bags hanging on his bicycle. His mouth is shut but soon he would holler his arrival. The sound would pierce through walls and vibrate in everybody’s ears. We get a refreshing whiff of mint as he lifts a bundle.

Sun’s warmth is evaporating the remaining wetness on the road and we encounter dust coated moisture as it rises. ‘This smell is not unlike rain ‘, I think.

We are carried further in a strong draft of air. Morning is progressing and so also activities. The satisfying warmth in the air is turning into scorching heat. Buses are racing each other to get to the next stop first and hence more customers. Their horns are blaring. Fresh air is slowly giving way to burnt diesel. ‘These monsters can cut ether in two”, I think. Now, we hear brakes being applied and a bus stopping with reluctance. We move towards the stationary bus. Speed, bus, and brakes give a name to this smell which reaches us before we even see it ; that of fresh blood.

What had the monster trapped? As we brush past few witnesses, I see familiar clothes, body and lastly face. Mine. I look around. The fading breeze smiles and says again, “I see a lot more than you!”

Am ‘I’ the one who is taking in the sun-shower? Is the form flying around, me? Whose is the soulless body? I do not want the burden of these questions and I struggle to stop them. A nauseating smell of dried urine mixed with food being fried strikes me and quells the confusion. I open my eyes and as I get a view of the commotion in the bus-stand, I feel a crick in my neck. I have reached my destination but the questions remain.