The Aroma and Beats of Home

Last evening was a wonderful evening. It was one filled with the feeling of being at home, really. Not a general feeling of existence but one of a sense of being grounded, of peace. It started with cooking dinner. I was making a simple meal, but I decided to make it the traditional way. As the pot simmered the aroma of rajma curry(kidney beans) filled our little apartment. And I was playing a traditional folk song as well.

And if I closed my eyes I could almost imagine I was back in India, home.

Its amazing how much one can simulate the sense of home by merely cooking a 'home' dinner, and listening to music that would evoke the memory. I remember longing for the aroma of my mother's lunches, and listening to Tagore songs when I missed my home, while I lived in a boarding school. And listening to Arabic songs sometimes when I missed my parents' Gulf settled life

Music beats and aromas of typical spices. So much of our Indian life is centered around those two things. On a sultry afternoon, when heat swirls and humidity sits heavily, you will always hear the strain of somebody's radio or music player playing some movie music. And someone somewhere would be cooking something...curries, dal (lentils), vegetables, chapatis (flat Indian bread)...and the aromas would mix with the music and create the typical sense of home. Settling in that music and spice ridden atmosphere..I would settle down to my books to study, or to read a book.

Aromas always rustle up images to me. When travelling in a train, around mealtimes, when everyone opens their packed food, or trays of food are served, there is a typical amalgamation of the aroma of food from different people's homes. In the southern part fo the country, it may be the aroma of typical fare such as curd rice, idlis (steamed dumplings of rice flour) and Sambar, biriyani. In the north it would be the smell of puris and parathas(fried breads) with pickle, and vegetables. Mingled with the slightly metallic stench that is most commom to Indian railways. And since I have seldom travelled without my music, the music would also surround me through my headphones. Mingled with snatches of conversation, the rhythm of the train clacking along, and thoughts and words from a book would swirl in that miasma of aroma and rhythm. And the train wouold be taking me home, or away from it, so I would be thinking of home too.

Its similar with bus journeys too, although bus journeys have their own smells. And so do air journeys. And journeys always lead to or from home, so they are always filled with their own sets of emotions: pain at parting, the anticipation of meeting, soul weariness, steeling of resolve to continue..emotions that evoke some songs, and rhythms.

I miss home. I miss the music, the colour, the emotions, and the aroma. Not always pleasant. Not always warm. Provincial sentimental fool that I am, is nothing like the aroma and beats of home.And so I muse and ramble and introspect today.