Of scents and smells

He was like a dog. Not only did he have the tenacity and loyalty but also the sense of smell that all canines possess. He would sniff out the weakest of smells from the remotest corner. He would be called in to locate the origin of the stench when a rat decided to commit suicide in their store room. He was not averse to stench but extremely weak to fragrance. Especially when it belonged to a woman. A woman who smelled good stirred something within him. He greatly appreciated the company of such women for he would be intoxicated by their scent. Especially hers. She smelled unique. When they were wrapped up in each others arms, her scent would excite him more than her touch. Although now she was gone and wouldn't come back; her scent would linger in his nostrils making him nostalgic from time to time.

Over the day all he did was pore over his books. The books were meant to decide his future. The books were not particularly uninteresting. He would forever be engrossed in them. It would be far intense when the book in question was a work of his favorite author. Ruskin Bond would transport him to the land of the hills. He always held the snow capped mountains in awe, as any fellow who grew by the sea would. He would wonder if there would be a pretty girl waiting for him at Andheri Station everytime he passed it, as the girl selling baskets waited for Bond at Deoli. Or if he would ever live next to elusive and sensuous Susanna and actually forge a relationship with her, perhaps become her 8th husband. He would be hopelessly lost in the world so different from the city. Until that woman passed by.

She was an attractive woman. An aspiring Chartered Accountant who twiddled the buttons of her calculator tirelessly and scribbled the figures in her notebook. But her beauty was not the reason why his focus was disturbed each time she walked by. It was her scent. He wouldn't notice the constant movement of people near his desk. He was used to them for they wouldn't smell as good as she did. He would instantly look up from his book. Looking around only to spot her. Moving lithely, making her way through the maze of long study tables with her boyfriend in tow. A burly fellow who always sat farther away from her. Such a fool he would chuckle to himself. But one couldn't blame the poor chap, he was also aspiring to become an accountant and would never be able to tally his accounts if she sat next to him.

The boyfriend had started noticed him looking at his woman. He would glance over at him when they passed and although he maintained a casual look on his face, his eyes shone green. For the woman would be kind enough to make eye contact occasionally and it would make him immensely happy. But that was all he could do and that was all he wanted to. There was simply no way he was going to confuse his olfactory neurons. Her scent was far deeply rooted in them. And so he went back to reading until a gust of wind blew his way bringing along with it, the familiar scent. He would jerk his head up again, hoping to spot her standing nearby, looking at him with those inimitable eyes with a disarming smile almost challenging him to leave his desk. He wouldn't run for he would be transfixed by the sight. But she wouldn't be there. Deeming the entire sequence as dreamy, he would shrug and smile at the same time only to resume reading once again.

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