Sun was shining; it was a completely blue sky. I sat in the garden with a book and a cup of coffee. In the border near where I was sitting, there was a Marigold plant laden with flowers. The colours of the petals were a combination of dark red and bright yellow like flames of fire. Impulsively I plucked a couple of flowers and put it on the table.
I opened my book and started reading. As soon as I opened the pages, a waft of familiar smell hit me. The smell was coming from my fingers, which I had used to pluck the marigold flowers. This familiar smell brought the memory of my high school days with such intensity that I felt physically transported in that big colourful marquee in the school field on a Saraswati Puja* day. I could see the statue of the goddess in bright yellow and red sari and the whole dais covered with marigold flowers. Most of the decoration was done a few days before but we arranged the flowers in the early hours of the morning so that they would look as fresh as possible. We also pinned a number of flowers to the fabric behind the statue in a gushing fountain design. I could see the face of my classmate who drew this design with a piece of wood charcoal. I saw myself pricking my finger and reflexly sucking the tip. And there were my fingers, tinged green, yellow and red with intense smell of marigold just under my nose. This memory was like a hologram engulfing me, almost real.
This kind of memory, where an unexpected re-encounter with a scent from the distant past brings back a rush of memories, is called “Proustian Memory" named after Marcel Proust, one of the greatest novelists of the 20th century.
I have smelled marigold before but I never felt like that. This time I think it was not just the smell but also many other sensory clues were similar. The day was sunny, temperature was not too cold, not too hot, very like late February or early March in India. I was sitting in a green grass lawn very similar though much smaller to the field in my high school. All these sensory inputs together probably reproduced exact environment, which I had once experienced, and the mind converted the memory into virtual reality.
Come to think of it, the reality we perceive is actually a creation of our mind. The raw material with which mind creates reality is memories. I am now sitting in my study writing this blog. I am aware of the date and time and the fact that the bookcase is behind me and the telephone on my left side only because of my recent and not so recent memories. Though I am only seeing or touching a small fraction of my world, I am fully aware of it only due to this wonderful gift called memory. My present reality is based on my memories, not on what is actually there at exactly this moment. Another interesting topic for another blog.
*Saraswati Puja (also known as Basant Panchami) is a festival devoted to Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge, music and art. The festival is celebrated with great enthusiasm in the schools & colleges of India.
