Smells, sounds, Imagination

I was wondering if it is the imagination we associate to a certain music or smell which changes it to a music of longing, or a fragrance of subtle remembrance of life. Or is it in these invisible singing birds carrying fragrances from old times and far off places which reminds us of our mute existence and paint our imagination in their own colors…

Yesterday Ertyaas was preparing a potpourri with alot of dry Champa flowers she collected from near by tree, grounded fresh cloves and cinnamon from the Zanzibar island and local sea salt. She imagines the five petals of the Champa flower as the five phases of women (Birth, maidenhood, motherhood, woman of wisdom and eternal rest) and the strong smell of cloves reminds her of the present living……..

She is definitely of the first type. On the other-hand, I went to a hindu temple here in Dar-es salaam today, and rang the big hanging bell just to become lost in the long resonating sound, reminding me of my old long gone religious tranquil phase of life. The Agarwood incense sticks were all around,and like an invisible mist spreading everywhere, helping everybody to forget about the outside world, to the point where one can even listen to the tiny milk droplets dripping on Lord Shiva’s Lingam.The sound of these falling droplets became the imagination of time,with each drop representing another fallen precious moment of our lives.

Another sound that stirred my imagination lately. A call i got from my family of my father having a heart surgery next week, took me back to all those past thirty years of little time spent together, with vivid and fading collage of moving and still pictures flashing on my mindscreen.

May be I am starting to miss my land(at least that’s what Ertyaas thinks)…or may be my senses are calling me back to a life of reality, reminding me with their little shouting of their humble existence……..