Scent as a Journey Through Time

I lost my sense of smell for a few weeks during the COVID-19 pandemic, and it felt like many of my memories—especially from childhood—began to fade. Scents have always held a special place in my life, effortlessly transporting me through time to relive treasured moments. During that period, I felt powerless, afraid that without my sense of smell, I might lose my ability to use Scent as a Journey Through Time.

To this day, I continue to relive memories through familiar scents. Little did I know that this connection between fragrances and memories has a name. Its called the “Proust effect,” after the French writer Marcel Proust.

In his novel In Search of Lost Time (also translated as Remembrance of Things Past), Proust vividly illustrates this phenomenon. He dips a madeleine—a small, shell-shaped cake—into a cup of tea. The taste and smell instantly trigger a flood of childhood memories:

“No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate than a shudder ran through me, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin…this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather, this essence was not in me, it was me.”

— Marcel Proust : Swann’s Way: In Search of Lost Time

Table of Contents

The Science of Scent as a Journey Through Time

Smell is often regarded as the Cinderella of the senses, overlooked and misunderstood, but it shapes our everyday experiences in surprising ways.

— Avery Gilbert : What the Nose Knows: The Science of Scent in Everyday Life

Fragrances and memories are deeply intertwined, and here’s why, according to science:

The Olfactory System and the Brain: The sense of smell is unique. Because it’s directly connected to the brain’s limbic system, which includes the amygdala and hippocampus. The key regions responsible for processing emotions and forming memories. Unlike other senses, smell bypasses the thalamus (the brain’s sensory relay station) and heads straight for these emotion & memory-related areas.
Emotional Recall: Smells evoke powerful emotions due to their direct link to the brain’s emotional centers. A particular perfume might instantly remind you of someone or a place, triggering vivid memories associated with that scent.
Autobiographical Memories: Certain fragrances act as strong triggers for autobiographical memories. For instance, the smell of besan laddoos may remind someone of their mother. A scent of Merigold flowers may evoke memories of special events like Diwali celebrations.
Long-lasting Impressions : Smell leaves a lasting impact. A fragrance encountered once can be vividly remembered even years later, often more strongly than a visual or auditory memory.

Smell and emotion are stored as one memory.

– Dawn Goldworm, co-founder of the olfactive branding company 12.29

For me, scents take me back to a time when the world wasn’t hyper-connected. I’ve written this post in parts, revisiting each scent over days to capture the best recollections possible.

Scent of Jasmine Flowers (Chameli) and My Mother’s Best Friend

After her long treatment, my mother struggled to sleep. I had read that the fragrance of jasmine could help soothe her senses and improve her sleep, so I decided to bring a jasmine plant into our terrace garden.

Weeks passed before the first blooms appeared. When they finally did, I couldn’t wait to pluck a few and inhale their sweet scent. The fragrance reminded me of my childhood time, a small house where the front yard was shaded by a canopy of jasmine.

I could almost feel the cool, mud-painted ground beneath my feet and see the sunlight filtering through the leaves. The air was thick with the intoxicating scent of jasmine. As I stepped inside the house, I saw my mother, laughing and chatting with her childhood friend. I called her Mausi. I touched her feet, and she rewarded me with a 10-rupee note, along with a shower of blessings. It was Mausi’s home—one that, even today, lingers in my memory whenever I smell jasmine.

Now, every morning, I pick fresh jasmine flowers from my garden. Sometimes, I place them on my desk as I write. Other times, I gently place them next to my mother’s pillow, hoping to wake her with the same heavenly fragrance.

Disclaimer: The products images (and brands assocated with them) mentioned in this post are based on personal experiences and memories. All trademarks and copyrights belong to their respective owners. This post is not intended as an endorsement or paid promotion for them.

Pond’s Magic Talcum Powder and My First Crush

While preparing a grocery list, my father asked me to pick up some talcum powder for him. As I strolled down the supermarket aisle, I casually reached for Pond’s Magic Talc and took a whiff. Instantly, I was transported back to my 9th-grade classroom.

That year, a new girl joined our small class, and from the moment she arrived, we exchanged shy smiles. She had special permission to leave school 20 minutes early because she lived on the outskirts of the city.

She accidentally left her handkerchief behind in rush—a classic moment that felt straight out of a Bollywood film. I couldn’t resist picking it up, tucking it into my bag. I was hoping to find a moment to talk to her about something not related to studies.

When I got home and opened my bag, the scent of Pond’s Magic enveloped me. Our mutual infatuation didn’t last long. But, that fleeting moment became an everlasting memory, forever tied to the fragrance of Pond’s Magic.

Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off; it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it.

— Patrick Süskind : Perfume: The Story of a Murderer

Dettol and My Childhood Injuries

Our family has been loyal to Dettol as our go-to disinfectant for over four decades. Each time its familiar scent wafts through the air, I find myself taken back to my childhood, recalling the many injuries I sustained during playtime.

The fear of my father discovering my scrapes often numbed the physical pain. I can still picture him, mercilessly dabbing Dettol on my wounds while simultaneously scolding me for my reckless antics. The sting of the antiseptic was almost unbearable, but it was nothing compared to the lecture that followed.

Even now, the scent of Dettol brings back those memories. The painful yet cherished, a reminder of the carefree days of childhood and the lessons learned from my adventures.

Gujiya and Festivities

Festivities seem to be losing their charm. Its not because people have stopped celebrating, but because selfies, new clothes, parties, and takeout food have highjacked it. Take Diwali, for example. I belong to a generation where preparations began months in advance. From cleaning and whitewashing to decorating and cooking traditional Diwali snacks and sweets. The entire family would come together to celebrate with rituals.

I remember our entire colony filled with the sweet & warm aroma of traditional treats like gujiya, mathri, shakar pare, namak pare, chakli, and anarsa—the list goes on. Nowadays, in our busy lives, many families opt for convenience, purchasing these ready-made delights from the market. This shift has resulted in the slow fading of cherished traditions.

However, whenever I catch a whiff of that sweet scent wafting through the neighborhood or at home. Whether it’s someone cooking gujiya or my mother preparing sura (a sweet delicacy made for Mahalaxmi Puja)—I am taken back down memory lane to my childhood. I remember hovering around the kitchen, unable to resist the allure of the sweets being made by my mother. I would constantly reach for the treats, only to be playfully scolded by my mom for touching them before they were offered in the puja. Oh, the nostalgia!

The nose tells the mind things the eyes and ears cannot: it gives us a sense of our environment and internal states, offering an invisible form of knowledge.

— Ann-Sophie Barwich : Smellosophy: What the Nose Tells the Mind

Coffee Aroma and First Double Espresso Shots

I have this peculiar habit of stepping into coffee shops just to savor the strong aroma of coffee, hoping it will whisk me back to my first trip to Manhattan, NY. Every Tuesday, I buy sweets as an offering for Lord Hanuman Ji. And, one day, I was thrilled to discover that a new Starbucks had opened right across from the sweet shop.

Excited like a child who just found a new toy store. I hopped into the café, and suddenly, I was transported back to Manhattan. I was severely jet-lagged and rushing to catch an induction meeting between my client and my offshore team in India.

Minutes before I was due to reach my client’s office, the intoxicating aroma of coffee enveloped me. I couldn’t resist grabbing a cup to help combat my jet lag. There was a queue, and in my haste, I ordered a double espresso, knowing I was running late. As soon as I received my double espresso shots, I dashed outside, walking as if I were being chased through the bustling streets of New York.

When I finally took my first sip, the neat black, bitter concoction jolted me—completely forgetting to add milk and sugar amidst the chaos. I choked down the bitter fluid for the sake of fighting my jet lag.

Moral of the story: Don’t try this at home! LOL! Now, every time I catch a whiff of coffee at Starbucks, a smile spreads across my face. I remember that crazy incident, all thanks to those double espresso shots.

Sweet Citrus and Driving a Car in LA

A few days ago, while shopping for household supplies, I wandered down the aisle for room fresheners. One gel-based sachet caught my eye, labeled “Sweet Citrus.” Typically, I avoid chemical-based fragrances for my bathrooms, preferring essential oils, real flowers, or camphor instead. However, due to the heavy rains, I hadn’t been able to find fragrant flowers from my garden, so I decided to purchase the freshener.

I installed the sachet in one of the bathrooms.Next morning , as I stepped inside the and the aroma of Sweet Citrus enveloped my senses, whisking me back to a memory of driving a Chevy HHR on the I-5 freeway in Los Angeles. It was my first time ever driving a car in the States.

I remember browsing the options presented by the executive at Enterprise Rent-A-Car near the airport. I chose the modern classic Chevy HHR, and as I checked out the car, they handed me a complimentary Little Tree car scent—Sweet Citrus.

Image source : https://www.littletrees.com/

Phenol Cleaner and My Community Hospital

Even today, the smell of phenol cleaner transports me back to my early childhood. I was probably around seven years old and often found myself injured while playing. Sometimes, the injuries were so significant that I would sneak away to my community hospital to see my family physician, hoping to avoid my father’s scolding.

I would get the necessary dressing and medicines, then return home in the evening, proudly telling my mother about my little adventure to make her proud. Those hardships in my early years continue to empower me, helping me confront and heal many physical and emotional injuries later in my life.

Saptaparni and Winter is Coming

Alstonia scholaris, commonly known as the blackboard tree, scholar tree, milkwood, or devil’s tree, is one of the most prevalent flowering trees in my city. Its one of the favourite plants of Municipal corporation and Ladscaping artists.

I spent my childhood in one of the greenest parts of the city, where these majestic trees lined two major connecting roads. I vividly remember cycling to my tuition classes, the intoxicating fragrance of their flowers wafting through the air. The delightful scent, combined with the slight chill in the temperature, signaled that winter was on its way. Even to this day, I cherish this feeling, as winter remains my favorite season.

Scent of Coral Jasmine and Ganesh Utsav

As I write this part of the post at 5:30 AM, a fragrant breeze drifts in through the window, filling the room with the sweet and heavenly scent of Coral Jasmine (Parijaat, Harshrigar in Hindi).

We moved to a larger government-allotted apartment when I was in 7th standard, and before that, the blossoming of Coral Jasmine flowers signaled to every child in the vicinity that it was time for Ganesh Utsav.

Every dawn, kids would wake up early, competing to collect the delicate Coral Jasmine flowers. The excitement stemmed from the annual competition to create the most beautiful flower garland to offer to Lord Ganesha, with enticing prizes for the winners.

Oh, how I miss those days! Each time I catch a whiff of Coral Jasmine, I relive that joyful time, filled with laughter and friendly rivalry.

Pine Scent and Bhutan

If I had to name the biggest difference between Bhutan and the rest of the world, I could do it in one word: civility.
— Linda Leaming, Married to Bhutan

I had a lovely connection with a small businesswoman who sold organic butters like shea and cocoa. As a regular customer, I always found thoughtful gift included with my orders—a sample of rose powder, a wooden spatula, or a cube of beeswax. Over time, her business flourished, expanding into organic skincare products.

One day, she gifted me a set of three lip balms made with essential oils and beeswax. One of these balms carried the enchanting scent of pine. In that moment, I found myself lost in a bittersweet nostalgia that transcended mere memory.

Pine, to me, is not just a fragrance; it embodies the breathtaking pine forests of Bhutan, where the majestic Himalayas meet the sky. I recall the historic monasteries nestled among the trees and the warmth of the humble folks I encountered. There was a unique peace and calmness in the air.

Every whiff of pine ignites a longing in me to return to Bhutan, to experience its serene beauty once more. Someday, God willing!

Scent of Millingtonia hortensis (Latak Chandani) and our Govt Allotted Quarter

During one of my morning hikes along my usual trail opposite my home, I encountered a detour due to ongoing roadwork. As I navigated the narrow street, a familiar scent wafted through the air—something reminiscent of Tuberose (Rajnigandha) but not as overpowering. I soon spotted two magnificent Millingtonia hortensis (Latak Chandani) trees at the end of the street.

Down memory lane, two such trees were found opposite our government-allotted house. Children used to collect their flowers, and women at home—like mothers, aunts, or grannies—used to make hair ornaments (Gajra) by weaving them together.

Those little pleasures, so simple yet so profound, linger in my heart. It had been more than three decades since I last experienced the enchanting scent of this fragrant flower, yet it remains a cherished memory.

Scent of Armani Acqua di Gio and NJ Transit

It was a busy day at the bank when I brushed shoulders with a gentleman ahead of me in the queue. Spontaneously, I asked, “Is it Acqua di Gio by Armani?” He smiled in surprise and replied, “Oh yes!”

As I waited for my turn, the scent whisked me back to a cold New Jersey morning, where memories of my daily commute to New York flooded my mind. Every other day, I would catch a whiff of this amazing fragrance and often wondered who was wearing it.

On one of those fortunate days, I sat next to a senior gentleman in an overcoat, who seemed like a college professor. When he opened a thick book titled The China Study from his leather bag, I hesitated before asking, “Sir, may I know which scent you’re wearing, if you don’t mind?”

He graciously replied, “Oh! The scent? It’s Acqua di Gio by Armani.” He even kindly mentioned a store near Times Square where I could find original perfumes at bargain prices.

That day, before boarding my train back to Jersey, I treated myself to my first expensive perfume, Acqua di Gio by Armani. Wherever I wore it at work, it became a delightful conversation starter.

Rangoon Creeper’s Scent and Family Dinners at My Uncle’s Place

My parents and Uncle (as I affectionately call him) were colleagues in the Ministry office for decades, fostering a bond that has only grown sweeter over the years. Uncle loved to invite us over for dinner, and I cherished these gatherings. He had a large family: three sons, a daughter, a loving wife, and his elderly parents. As the youngest in the crowd, everyone showered their affection and attention.

Each dinner felt like a grand family event. We children eagerly helped in the preparations, while the women of the house busily crafted delicious dishes and my father and uncle went grocery shopping, laughter echoing through the air. The festivities typically kicked off in the early evening, and it was rare for us to return home before midnight.

As the evening unfolded, we all gathered in one room, sharing stories, cracking jokes, and engaging in lively games of Antakshari. In winter, we’d sit around an open campfire in the garden, savoring steaming bowls of hot soup and fragrant tea, the warmth wrapping around us like a comforting blanket.

Uncle had a beautiful garden where he found joy in getting his hands dirty every weekend. At the entrance, he constructed a canopy of Rangoon creeper vines. As you walked towards the front door, the sweet, intoxicating scent of the flowers enveloped you, washing away the stress of the day and calming your senses.

Even now, when I spot a Rangoon creeper vine in passing, I take a moment to inhale its fragrance, hoping to relive those cherished evenings, where laughter and love flowed as freely as the delicious food.

Apricots and My cycling trip to Ladakh

While shopping for walnuts at a specialty store filled with exotic foods and nuts from around the world, I spotted a young boy at the sales counter. “Sir, please try these dry apricots from Leh! It’s our fresh batch of the season,” he said with enthusiasm. Intrigued, I replied, “Absolutely!” He handed me two dried yet succulent, orange-hued apricots.

Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived. The odors of fruits waft me to my southern boyhood, and the smell of musk is a summer night, and the white locust is the dream of a Northern hill.

– Rachel Herz : The Scent of Desire: Discovering Our Enigmatic Sense of Smell

As the distinctively sweet, floral, and fruity scent wafted through the air, I found myself in Ladakh, where I had cycled in September 2014. I had seen pictures of apricots growing in the region, but nothing could prepare me for the sight I encountered: entire villages along my cycling route bursting with ripe apricots. The roofs of homes were laden with them, drying in the sun.

The humble folks of Ladakh welcomed me with open arms, offering apricots with love and kindness. I remember plucking them straight from the trees and relishing every bite; it was a profound experience that connected me deeply to the land.

“Sir, should I pack these as well?” the boy’s voice shooked me back to the present. It had been nearly a decade since I had savored that scent, yet like Bhutan, Ladakh remains a cherished journey of a lifetime.

Conclusion

Scent has an extraordinary way of connecting us to our past. Often without warning, pulling us into memories of places, people, and moments that shaped us. Whether it’s the scent of coffee whisking me back to Manhattan or the sweet citrus that takes me to the open roads of LA, these moments remind me of how deeply intertwined our senses are with our emotions and experiences.

But beyond nostalgia, there’s a real-life lesson here: being present to the simple, sensory experiences around us can enrich our daily lives. It’s easy to get lost in the hustle, but taking a moment to truly smell, feel, and experience our surroundings can bring unexpected joy and reflection. Savoring these little moments — like the fragrance of fresh flowers, a warm cup of coffee, or the earth after rain — helps us stay grounded, mindful, and connected to the beauty in our everyday life.

So next time a familiar scent drifts by, don’t just enjoy it but let it remind you to slow down, reflect, and embrace the present.

Break This Pattern