Scented Memories

One fine Sunday afternoon, I was resting on my couch as my squeaky old knees and trembling legs didn't allow me to do a lot of work. "Ahh ! Old age", I thought, recalling how I used to boast about giving dance lessons even after seventy. Ironically, the dawn of seventy brought in numerous ailments and malfunctions of my storage system.

To look for my spectacles when they were already doing their job, set perfectly in front of my eyes; to call the grocer to bring me some meat; to put on the radio aiming to tap my feet to some melodies but finally ending up dozing; to sight a few of my specialities. 

Yes, something I never erred was writing. This gave me immense pleasure and kept me away from the thoughts of dying as a spinster. Few more years of my life would end as soon as the cancer cells would ban their population control schemes. 

"Uhh, you sexy old Susane, move your lazy soul now and start writing", said I to myself. I slowly danced through the room as I waved my hands to the tune of “You’re beautiful” and reached my study. 

I tried pulling out a few old diaries from the shelves to refer to few of my old writings. It had been quite some time since I had updated my blog. I somehow caught hold of a really old diary, thoroughly enveloped by dust and welcomed those articles with some coughing and sneezing. 

Nevertheless, as I started turning some old pages, my eyes got stuck on picture. At that moment, I don’t remember what happened, as I sat numb for a few minutes as I felt a "woooshhh", like a tornado of pages took me into a swirl of memories. As if, a bottle of scent preserving the essence of my life diffused out. 

How splendid was the moment! 

I saw a 20 year old Susane dancing her way out in a crowd. 

A voice full of enthusiasm, a crazy girl creating an aura of magic on everyone she met. 

As I inhaled a little more of the scent, I saw someone call young Susane.

"Hey Susane! Wait I am coming", something sparkled my memory. I could see a tall and handsome young lad walking towards me and as I stretched my old arms wide open, I felt myself hugging that lad. For a moment I felt my cancer cells had again started their population control adding some more life to my limited days. 

Meanwhile, some essence had faded off and I was taken to a scene where I could see deep love in the eyes of both the lad and the lass. But something kept a void from getting filled.  

With another breath, I was taken to a room filled with people looking mysteriously and angrily upon Susane.

"But I have fallen for him dad! Try to understand! He's a great guy!". 

"No! You stupid girl. You have got no respect for your parents. Don't you realise he's not of our caste?". 

"Dad! I don't care about caste as long as he loves me truly". 

"Fine. You may then break old family bonds to join a fake one". 

"Yes, I will! ". And she left. Left and didn't return. Everyone thought she had eloped with the guy but she hadn't. She respected her parents more than anyone. The guy too had a similar happening at his place, being threatened emotionally not to run away. 

As he was leaving, Susane caught hold of his hand, but he left and a drop of tear filled the place of his palm. 

To this, I stood up to hold him back but only to catch hold of cloud of memories. 

At this moment the remaining essence of scent from the bottle flushed out and I sat gobsmacked. 

I got back to reality and laughed at myself.

“If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent.”

Probably Sam would have got married and would be having a lovely family by now. I let out a sigh and got back to my work. 

I opened my blog only to see comments and suggestions from an old gentleman who seemed oddly familiar from his photo. 

I decided to view his profile and tear drops ran down my cheeks to find a description he had written about himself: 

 "Sam Uzael. 

*Sweet Seventy* 

Working for Myself,

Single, still awaiting Susane".