Whiff of good luck

              My house smells of the rain all the time.Yes, that over rated fragrance of the soil as the first drops of rain quench the thirst of the land. All you need is to open the large French windows and let the air in. The moisture laden winds bring in the hints of rain. Sometimes when the weather is humid, you might feel the wind in your hair. Dampened with invisible water, you will feel the salt on your skin. Without me telling, you would guess that the sea is nearby. Correction. It is the creek that is hidden by the concrete jungle. If you stare into the horizon, you can see the mangroves from my room. Mangroves that guard the creek on the other side. On a clear day, you can enjoy the view of mountains far beyond. This is no description of some remote place in some untouched part of the world. It is right in Mumbai. My house that smells of rain.
             Early in the morning, when the first rays of sunlight are yet to reach below, my house smells of dew. The plants in the nursery bed, emanate a herbal fragrance. The holy basil dominates the lot. On some days, the rose decides to oblige us with a visit and becomes the chief attraction. My mother tends to them with love. Sometime later, my father waters them all. Plants in all the three rooms appear fresh and happy when he does that. It is then that the smell of the rains is all around. It is the soil that my parents maintain in all the pots. Gingerly changing them at regular interval. Boosting it with manure. The soil that brings the smell of rain..
                   

             My father plucks the white flowers every morning for his prayers. The house smells of white flowers and sandal incense stick in that hour. Far away, the fog clears and the mountains stand proud. All through the day my house smells of different things, rains being the constant.
            The ginger tea boiling in the mornings
            The saute of dal
            The fragrance of each member as they get dressed for the day
            The lingering smell of chicken being cooked on sunday afternoons
            The evenings smelling of laundry
            The nights again smelling of food
            The house always smelling of rain..

            Once in three months or so, the house will smell of something that has so many memories attached to it. It will start to waft softly that evening and then suddenly overwhelm us with joy as the night grows. By midnight the smell begins to wander and then it drops like the flower itself.. Our dear Brahmakamal..
            It wasn't ours when it was brought. It had been with our friendly neighbor for years, without ever bearing. She left it with us when she shifted. It sat with our plants when we stayed in society. Receiving the same care and nurture that other plants in our house got. Wonder of wonders happened when we saw the bud emerging stealthily from the long leaf. We promptly brought the plant in to protect it from the birds that could pluck. I was just 12 then and it was an event that incited great excitement. They say that it happens only once a year.
            The night that it first bloomed to its full glory was also the time my father got his much awaited promotion. A promotion that was long over due (10 years he attempted) but was kept away due to various earmarking in government office. He came home with sweets that night. A large number of people came to our house to see the beautiful flower and we rejoiced at the pristine white of the flower, its intricate beauty and the divine fragrance. I remember we gave sweets to all who came!
            It was then that the flower signified good luck.
   
           IT was a miracle. It still is. Every year we are visited by the flower more than once. It still makes us gleefully look at it blooming hour by hour. It is nothing short of a marvel that it makes me so happy and upbeat to breathe that fragrance. It eases the weight on my chest and I take it as a sign of something good to happen. In years that progressed, it has become something I associate with home. Home is where I will get that comfort. When things go down and bad, I await that miracle. When decisions become wrong and choices blurred, somehow miraculously a flower blooms. I pray silently and my problems ease. I feel there is an intervention from above. My belief makes me think clear and determined. The power of that belief is such. It has become my whiff of good luck..
         How else do I explain its presence
        When my CAP results were out and I was confused about the course..
        When I was broken in ways I never will be again..
        When the comparisons were killing my confidence..

        It is during that one day of Brahmakamal's presence, my house smells like memories. If  memories had a smell, that would be it. The smell of rain fused with the fragrance of Brahmakamal..

                                           

         This post is written for Indiblogger Smelly to Smiley contest www.facebook.com/AmbiPurIndia