Scent of the Chembakam

When the 'Chembakam' releases a haven of smells into the garden, I knew what I missed all this while in the confines of a home in the city. 

When the solitary 'Chembarathy' shines bright and red among its green companions, I know I am home – home to the greens of the plantain leaves, to the browns of mango leaves that have given all their mangoes away, to the ochres of jackfruit leaves that have a few token jackfruits left behind on the trees..

When your mornings are intruded with birdy chirps and calls of insects unknown..you unknowingly keep the beep of the incoming mails aside to participate in the sounds of the nature..when butterflies peek curiously while you relish a newspaper and a cuppa, you exhale – the stress of a virtual office seems distant in this tableau..

When ‘a handpicked tulsi finds its way to the morning tea, when mother hurriedly plucks ‘payar’ (lobia?) and cooks up lunch in a jiffy, when you inhale a medicinal plant to cure that nagging cold…you know that ‘garden to home’ takes a whole new meaning and that nature is never too far away.

When amongst the din of deadlines, daily updates and drumming, you hear the rain splattering and the winds wailing, seeking your attention - you unconsciously give in - disconnecting from the superficial stress of an email, connecting, caressing the monsoons as she ‘arrives’…

When you stumble upon a browned, donkey eared Nancy Drew as you clean and sweep, you are transported to eras past - the Enid Blytons of innocence that gave way to droolworthy Hardy Boys, a bit of Dickens, a bit of Kundera and Gibran – all pouring into your adolescence and finding its way through your adult mind – the scribblings of friendships and smells of places of your past..

As the sensory experiences add up, work from home turns to work from ‘home-home’, home to your roots, to your past, to the coconut trees that tower over the landscapes, to the rains that mischievously tickle and drop..to the rains that sometimes loses its manners and pours its monstrosity from up above – but who is complaining as I sit in my verandah and witness it all ?