Smells, Smells, Everywhere
From the one who nose it all
A lot of our childhood memories are based on a retelling of sporadic incidents by parents, siblings, and kith and kin. As for me, I remember exhibiting a few eccentricities as a kid — a trait I hope I have carried forward only sparsely as an adult.
A related, oft-recounted episode comes to mind.
We had a visitor in the form of a middle aged woman, distant enough to feature in a story in a blog but acquainted enough to smother me with a bone- crushing hug. I waited for the unclasping of my little self, ambled to the washroom and barfed.
When my incredulous mother inquired as to what exactly transpired, I said, “Umm, I couldn’t take the smell”.
Over the years, my overactive olfactory sense has played a pivotal role in defining my life experiences.
Child me was evidently wary of the odour emanating from strangers. Travel in public transport was troublesome — I recollect train journeys, to and from the city of Meerut, peppered with my parents’ attempts to shield me from the nauseating waft of the sugarcane fields dotting the city’s periphery. Even lavish dinner parties came with anxious moments like the trip to the food counters. While each dish’s individual aroma might be pleasant, the heady mix was largely overwhelming for me.
Heck, WWE was unbearable because I could literally smell what the Rock was cookin’. LOL, JK. It was unbearable as it is.
And then I landed in a hostel where every meal was a buffet. Moreover, even the aroma of individual dishes wasn’t necessarily pleasant either. I was blessed that these spaces actually had rather high standards for hygiene and I managed to make it through to the other end.
With the passage of time, this hyper sensitivity to odours has waned, aided by mellowing of my reaction to stimulus. My wife might violently disagree to this assertion given my habit of opining on the fragrance of her perfumes and lotions.
All these years and yet, it was only last week that I discovered that there is a term for heightened sensibility to smell — Hyperosmia.
Knowing that brought the kind of joy that comes only with finding a shared thought on the internet.
It carried along with it the related terms phantosmia, which is the sensation of a smell long after it is gone — we all know that feeling, don’t we? — hyposmia (obvious) and anosmia — the inability to smell.
Not being able to smell would be sadly uneasy and uneasily sad. Trust me, so is being able to do a lot of it. The rest of the folks are busy taking this sense of smell for granted.
Unless, of course, they catch a cold.
Have a similar life story to share? Write away in the comments and we can do a virtual high-five.
And if reading the random wanderings of my brain interests you, allow me to invite you for more.
