2 hours 23 minutes to touch down!

I have been up more than 24 hours at a stretch,and am actually exhausted with all the excitement,but who can sleep when blessedness is arriving?

I can’t for sure! And this has nothing to do with me being an insomniac. 

I couldn’t sleep the night of 5th Jan 2002 and neither on 13th feb 2003, even though I was in 48 hours of labor and in excruciating pain.(By choice!)I refused to take epidural and insisted on both normal deliveries. Why? Well,because I wanted to experience the process in its entirety. Crazy? I never claimed to be sane!)  I stayed up through those nights,through each contraction waiting desperately to hold “Magic”in my arms. To be blessed with “Miracles” which are mine forever. Tonight is no different.

I am fervently waiting. Tracking their flight continuously isn’t making it land any sooner so keeping myself occupied.I am changing sheets, have set wardrobes right, refurbished toiletries,shopped for all the groceries needed for meals,Ironed towels, prepped for breakfast and of course have done the house up in flowers.(Grandparents have chosen balloons.)

 How old are they you may ask🤔? Hahaha! 😁13 and 14 and boys yes! Many would think they won’t register something as feminine as flowers. But that’s not true. Kids register everything. 

I have distinct memories of smells associated with my childhood,the home where I grew up. The fragrance of dads brut and moms talc. The smell of mom’s dal and fried fish. Sundays had a distinct smell. The fresh smell of a crisp morning on the beach as dad and mom took me for a walk. Or sometimes just the lazy fragrance of slumber that wasn’t broken rudely by the alarm. Then The smell of shampoo, when my long hair was washed and I was allowed to leave it loose for a better part of the day. As though my hair was allowed a holiday too from it’s much oiled regimented braids. Also Of fish,when kusum maushi came to sell fish,and  Of nankhatai and biscuits when that chacha came to sell biscuits at our doorstep . He always gave me one as a treat whether we bought anything from him or no. The smell of flowers and agarbatti and dhoop,when my grand mom did puja. The smell of chicken or even French toast that dad made on sundays. The smell of afternoon siesta. And the arduous smell of notebooks and leaked ink in the evening as I reluctantly finished the much delayed homework. And the unpleasant smell of oil in my hair as it got disciplined again. And jovan Musk, the fragrance of teenage and first love.     

One may argue that I remember because I am a girl. No, our senses aren’t biased to any sex. And the sense of smell is definitely not feminist. For example: My best friend moved to London for almost 2years. One day she put lilliums in her house. When her son came home from school,he said “Our house smells like Shefali masi’s house.” And as you guessed right,he is a boy. He associated the smell of those particular flowers to my home. So am sure my boys most certainly know the fragrance of their home. The fragrance of lilliums and rajnigandha, and lavender and geranium oil. Smell Of Their freshly washed sheets,and comforters.Their bathrooms a mix of shampoo,body wash and hot water. Their room, the smell of flowers and balloons on any special occasion. The smell of their kitchen,of manglori curry,and Nani wali dal,and hot phulkas with ghee,of home cooked food.The smell of their secret hiding spots in the building. Football with friends in the box, the smell of wet tee shirts when they jump in the pool with clothes on just to trouble the security.

Yes it is a fragrant and gratifying journey of 14 years. From babies in my arms to towering me. From smells of Johnson  baby powder and eau-de-cologne and nappies washed in boiling hot water and savalon to stinky socks,always worn and almost torn cleats and now perfumes and shoes benevolently shared with dad.
Am sure they will not only register, but savor,as I do now while I wait for touch down. 

The fragrance of home coming!