To April, among other things

It’s hot now. I smell dust and deodorant covered sweat in the air. I smell cigarettes and mint. I smell tea and something sad in the irrelevant office gossips & back bitching. I smell my own selfishness and stupidity. My heart stinks. My safety shoes stink as well and so do my feet. My office Canteen has a distinct smell of its own. Anyway, it’s chole again. I smell Aluzinc in my hands, so I wash them. Now, they reek of dettol. Also,Quarter one hasĀ  ended, it smells of missed targets and unacheived goals. But anyway, Second quarter has begun and it smells of April!
April?
We get that your olfactory senses have heightened tremendously turquoise ink, but what does April smell like?

April. Well, April reeks of nostalgia, of the fresh pages of my new textbooks,
of the benches of my new class, of the perfume of my new class teacher, of the shining new brown cover of my notebooks, of new pens and pencils, of ink, of erasers with perfect edges, of my polished shining shoes, of fresh cut grass of the playground, of my friend’s lunchboxes that I had longed for almost a month now, of my own lunchboxes, of the beautiful blooming trees of Amaltas and Gulmohar, of mangoes, of my newly stitched Prussian blue skirt and clean ironed white shirt, of lame April fool jokes, of my new crush, of the fevicol we use in SUPW class which never happens again through out the rest of the year, of recess, of the carpet of my music class, of my new sketchbook, of my class’s notice board that needs to be decorated with new works of art, of my perfect little alum crystals, of the first poem of Hindi textbook and the first English story by Ruskin Bond, of the excitement running through my arteries that I am trying not to show too much and my unsuccessful desire to make the new year go perfectly.

That’s how April smells to me. Oddly and sadly perfect.

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