Smells, scents, aromas, odours, fragrances of Kolkata – especially those stashed away like embroideries in mother’s old needlework-box — are big connectors with our childhood. Even after ages of separation. A delicate olfactory shadow, dappled with sunshine.
After the invasion of malls and retail chains across the city, one does not much venture into Samavayikas, the first claimants to the title of a large-format store. But at one point of time, trips to these local stores were a must. The first thing that struck a visitor was the welcoming potpourri of smells. I would step in usually with my mother, and let myself be greeted by strong scents that transported me into a world of staples, spices, pulses, oils, beverages, assorted grocery and bakery products, simple packaged snacks or toiletries.
‘At Samavayikas, the first thing that struck a visitor was the welcoming potpourri of smells’ File photograph
The initial few minutes were spent taking in the sweeping fragrances. And then I followed Ma to the usual sections and shelves — because they sold (and we bought) routine stuff. It was tough coming away. The only happy takeaway was the Samavayika smell lingering in the packets.
Rebuilding this olfactory relationship with other stores has failed miserably. Some scents are best preserved as memories.
Another portal to magical smells was — and thankfully is — the little piece of heaven called Ujjala chanachur at Kalighat. No stocks of Bijoya Dashami snacks were complete without Ujjala savouries (pity they have not gone the Swiggy way!). And the irresistible smell, of course, that could turn even the most abstinent among humans into eternal admirers. Ujjala chanachur, with its unique and distinctive odour of deep-fried chana besan and roasted peanuts, still beckons us and we give in to it shamelessly.
‘And the irresistible smell, of course, that could turn even the most abstinent among humans into eternal admirers’ Representational file photograph
While Ujjala chanachur has survived, another favourite savoury shop near Jadubabu’s Bazar has not. It used to be run by two middle-aged Punjabi gentlemen. Their range of dalmuts — complete with enchanting whiffs — forced us to troop to the shop almost every week. Dalmuts apart, the brothers specialised in kaju barfis, and the sweets and snacks together were always a winning combo.
My connection with rail stations was strictly restricted to our jubilant winter trips to Hazaribagh. Ever since my first train travel, I fell in love with the curious smell of stations. We used to rush through the platforms with outrageous heaps of luggage. The sniffs of magical odours strongly suggested assorted food items being sold, bought and eaten; coal and pebbles from the tracks; huge sacks on carts; or oranges peeled by families. We chose to ignore the foul smells. And when the train stirred, the air seemed to fill up with the perfume of joy! Eventually, the train trundled into Burdwan station, and my aunt opened her charming tiffin carrier. I could, from miles away, bet my life on the contents. The unmistakable spicy-tangy-sweet whiff of luchi-alur dom-labangalatika added a special flavour to the annual holidays.
‘Luchi-alur dom’ or ‘phuchka’ both are very close to Kolkatans’ hearts File photographs
Another box emptying its magic contents tiptoes into my mind. This ritual happened at noontime on the school campus. The vendor arrived with his rectangular, black crate and on days when we were richer than others, we gathered around him. He sold assorted finger-foods. Small biscuits and cookies, toffees and sweetmeats, candies, donuts and glazed pieces of dry fruits and nuts. What we found irresistible — because of their sugary smell — were fluffy, crisp macaroons. These transported us to storybook kitchens (no escaping Enid Blyton). In those days, we hardly knew what macaroons were; we simply called these pink and white delicacies dim biscuits because of their oval shape.
Cherry Blossom — not the floral kind, but the popular shoe polish brand — also brings back associations of school days. The scent was quite addictive which I loved breathing in. I was clumsy with the black, waxy paste, and the smell lingered in my fingers. It made me happy.
Festivals have their characteristic smells. The weeks and days awaiting Durga Puja are incomplete without the fragrance of shiuli. A humble flower, as uncomplicated as sunrise, shiuli not only carpets the ground at dawn; it lets the breeze carry the sharodiya spirit across households. And when we queue up at pandals, even the toughest of non-believers among us cannot ignore the heady scents of camphor and resin or dhuno.
‘The weeks and days awaiting Durga Puja are incomplete without the fragrance of shiuli’
There was no escaping the smell of gunpowder in the city around Kali Puja and Deepavali (now rather unwelcome). The sharp odour of fireworks carries with it the memories of childhood adventures with a variety of rather loud firecrackers – chocolate bombs, dodomas, kalipotkas! Kali Puja smells lead us to Kalighat. A friend suddenly reminded me of the singularly sweet air in and around the temple created by the combination of hibiscus and pedas, mostly sold as prasad in a sal leaf wrapper.
No glossary of Kolkata’s happy smells can be complete without the abiding fragrance of street food — of rolls, momos, chowmein, phuchkas, corn and others. A voyage to the land of food for the mind — to College Street and to turning the first page of new books and Puja numbers — is exclusive too, offering unique hints of love, a fledgling relationship and some unexpected experiences.
‘The sharp odour of fireworks carries with it the memories of childhood adventures with a variety of rather loud firecrackers’
Another fragrant journey we often make is to nurseries in hospitals. Apart from savouring the joy of welcoming a newborn, the motley scents of baby powder, lotion, cream, soap, milk, and disinfectants build strong associations with this pilgrimage. They earmark some of the happiest and endearing memories.
Kolkata keeps adding to the rainbow of fragrances that both defines and describes it. Conjuring up newer images of a city that eternally reinvents itself.
Swati Ghosh is a veteran content creator and editor
