The smell of cinthol permeated the bathroom in the morning and triggered a wave of memories from childhood. It was like taking a roller coaster journey, into the past. into the olden days and bygones.

In a few seconds, I was in my granma’s house. My mother’s tharavadu as we call it. Those days, it was so pristinely pure and clean and neat and tidy. The black floor would be smooth and shiny. There was not a speck  of dust. The sunlight would come filtering in through the windows, the cracks and through the doors. There was silence with the murmuring of birds outside.

All would be in the kitchen. various appetising smells would come out from the vadakkini as we call it. I loved sitting there. it was dark and shady and the smells of old things. There would be our cats and kittens. Hens may stealthily enter the vadakkini only to be shooed out.  The smell of rice cooking on the aduppu. My grandma standing there, like the queen she is. In her simple settu mundu.

These soaps were very popular in my grandma’s house. The strong fragrance would dissipate through the house. Very fresh feeling it would bring. Besides, Cinthol, Hamam and Rexona were the other soaps used. probably they had coconut or neem in it.  They were stored in a storeroom, which I would love to explore for goodies.

I just love smells and fragrances. They remind me of something or the other. see, how the use of cinthol triggered this whole scene from the recesses of my mind, where i had buried it,  over time.

Those tender days of ignorance and immaturity but with a sense of appreciation of the simple and timeless in life. Now gone by.

And to be reawakened in my heart, each time I use this soap.

Cinthol