There is something in the smell of autumn. Often subtle or possibly overpowering at times and perhaps imaginably serendipitous in its own enigmatic way, occasionally.

A couple of days ago, while searching for a veterinary shop across a narrow and crowded street in Kolkata, a sudden whiff of a certain smell made me look around, only to find that I was walking over a bed of saptaparni (or as is called in Bengali chhatim) flowers. The small greenish-white blooms lay strewn across a small part of the dingy road - which was still wet and muddy from the torrential downpour earlier in the morning. For those few seconds, I forgot what I was looking for and the smell of the slight blooms took me fleeting back to a time from childhood to the autumn vacations or as we would call it fondly, Durga Puja holidays. 

The chhatim flowers primarily blossom between October to December and the heady aroma can be felt for several metres over an uncongested area. In spite of the overpowering presence of towering concrete structures in towns, it rarely happens that one can unnotice the strong scent wafting through even an unusually windless and sultry October evening.

After finishing my work at the veterinary shop, I purposely took the same road, where the flowers lay - half drenched in mud- just to experience the nostalgic feeling for a few seconds more. A brief span of time indeed, but in those moments I was not part of the crowded, muddy road, but was transformed in space and time in a serendipitous journey. It was a happy and comforting feeling.

Last year during Durga Puja, I remember visiting our ancestral house in Kolkata, which is an extension of a celebration which began in the original house in Pabna Town in present day Bangladesh. Last year, it was celebrating its 200th year and I remember returning every evening with a lingering aroma of a ‘dhunachi’. Dhunachi is very typical to the performance of arati, consisting of burning coconut husks sprinkled with Indian frankincense. The smoke which emanates from the dhunachi is dense and robust enough to permeate the surroundings with a strong fervour. The lingering aroma always takes me back many decades ago to a time from childhood, when I would stand awe-struck, watching an elderly person dance to the rhythm of a dhak, with a lit dhunuchi in one hand and sometimes in both hands during the Durga Puja festival. The rhythm of the dhak would elegantly guide the dance steps and the percussion and the movements would create a most cohesive repertoire in motion. The dense smoke of the dhunachi added a mystified, cloudy aura to the occasion.

Smell Of A Season

Every season has its own smells; however, they all differ in the eloquence of their presentation, manner and recollection. The memories associated with these also differ between individuals. Often, the definition of the ‘smell of a season’ may permeate to include a myriad mix of thoughts, which are not merely limited to a simple smell of yore alone, but even may incorporate something more expansive.

As the 'sharat' (or autumn season) sun shines across September and October with an accompanying sultry and stifling heat of the morning and early afternoons, the evenings slowly steer towards a more serene mood - a harbinger of the more complacent 'hemant' season ahead. It is also the time of the festival of lights arriving with the ‘smell of Diwali’. It is not the smell of burning 'barud' (gun powder) alone, but rather a mixture of little bits and pieces of the autumn season that transcends the physical world of savories and delicacies alone, and expands to include several aspects of a soothing, happy mood. This myriad feeling may as much consist of an earthy smell of clay diyas and the slight smell from trailing thin lines of smoke from burnt candle wicks to colourful images of rows of lights and diyas and courtyards and footpaths adorned with myriad rangolis and akash kandils hanging from balconies, entrances of shops or simply gently swaying in the slight autumn wind on roadside, medium-sized trees . The smell conjures images, rendering the task of defining a ‘Diwali smell’ very difficult. The calming feeling may be triggered at the most unexpected of places, maybe when you are crossing a road, driving a car, taking an evening or morning walk, or simply opening your windows in the early hours of the morning.

A Proustian Moment

As the beds of dried leaves and fluffy white clouds announce the visual representation of autumn, sometimes neuroscience attempts to explain the aspect of the ‘smell’ in an attempt to make it more comprehensible. It is a well-established fact that smell and memory are closely linked because of the brain’s anatomy. The moment which experiences a rush of memories, often from the long past or forgotten, is referred to as the Proustian moment. For centuries and decades, individuals and businesses have explored methods, ways and advertisements to understand, harness, or simply sell the evocative power of smell. 

This is not only limited to products alone as various services too have taken this into consideration from time to time. Think about the 4DX systems in theatres, which incorporates special effects into a movie-going experience and one can experience shaking seats, wind, rain as well as smells. Home cleaning services mention leaving your homes ‘smelling like fresh flowers’ or ‘smelling like new’. As smell is the primordial sense, it remains intimate to our memories and emotions. A scent can thus trigger a spiritual, emotional or physical space of peace, which can accompany a sense of healing and wellness. At that moment, the power of persuasion of the smells seems to take over our emotions.

So, what is the smell of autumn about? Is it the change in weather, from an otherwise hot tropical condition or is it the festivals, the food, the lights and the colours? What is it that really makes this feeling so special? Perhaps it is a realisation of moments of loss and happiness and a sense of comfort - all strung across the same thread, which makes a celebration of nostalgia and its sudden remembrance, a truly serendipitous moment. A moment that fills us up and imbues us.

(The author is a Kolkata-based visual anthropologist, culture specialist, writer, translator and columnist. Views are personal. She can be reached at lopamudramaitra@gmail.com)