It’s a known fact that …in general a man’s eyes juss detect a few basic colours: White, Blue, Black and Gray being the front runners. A scientific paper which I concoted reveals that women can see 1237864127863 colours, yes…yes…there are that many, at least I think so, inclusive of aquamariney-lemony-butterwhite. In fact by my guess, I think that they can also see an additional ten thousand odd colors that are yet to be even made. This happens to be the root cause of indecisiveness during them shopping extravaganzas that makes ‘em last longer than BR Chopra’s Mahabharat, makin’ their male counterparts feel that they should have gotten a bean bag, divX player and a portable TV along…and yeah a tent…just in case. Now, I had known the colors thing for a long time now, growing up seeing my maa going hammer and tongs at dudettes n dudes behind the counters for discounts and colors in those ‘Fixed Rate’ shops, while my Dad went into stupors with glazed, faraway ‘Spare Me’ looks in his eye. BUT… what I didn’t know was that the same saga goes for smells! :O

Guys, are more simplistic when it comes to choosing a perfume/deo. They choose from cologne, denim, musk or… something else. Yup just 4 categories…if they get too confused…they get themselves an Axe! Women…you wish!!! Right from the smell of roses dipped in honey to fresh cut grass to silvery moonbeams to lavender coated with whiff of the last green rose on earth…they sense it all! Why am I telling this to you…I decided to get my mom a gift!

Security Measures!

Yes yes…blame me for the lack of innovative gift options, or for the matter of fact failing to know what my mom likes and doesn’t. I myself would gladly kill myself for failin’ to recall the name of the perfume that she had liked a lot. The price I paid fer that not memorizing that trivial detail was extreme. So then I go to Shopper’s Stop’s dreaded section, which to me forever seems to be engulfed in pink fumes, emanating from ‘em parfum bottles. I get this OTT sweet aroma of all the zillion bottles lined up there and each trying to entice me to get ‘em, and I swooned with every single breath I took. I wished that I had those fumigation suits on. Police dogs…yep the male ones…would die the minute they land on that floor, given their sniffin’ proficiency. I wished to run out for a quick whiff of purely-polluted Mumbai Oxygen…but my lady friend, whom I had coaxed into being the connoisseur of smells for the day, maintained that I had to learn this…for next time sake. Yeahh rite…like lightning ever strikes the same place twice!!! [rollin’ eyes]

So off I get pulled over to a counter where a man stood…mos def in pink shirt, smiling away like a cherub. I could say that he had been doing this for long, and it had left a huge impact on him…considering the fact the way he caressed those ooohsodelicate bottles and Cleopatric grace with which he held the sampling strip of paper. He looked very happy and…a word that rhymes with hay!!! I was just getting my nose to filter out the little amount of oxygen left in that space…when whooshhh, along came a spray of atomized toxins, and I lost a few minutes of my existence. I felt as if a bunch of flowers had bloomed deep inside my nostrils. I shook my head…to shake off the overpowering essences, when spray-man pushed a small jar containing coffee-beans right up my nose. My nostril, desperate to get out of that headiness, snorted up in gulpfuls…I saw CCD, Barista and Mocha all at once. Before I could recover…whooooooosh went, a exquisite rosy emission that made me realize that…roses was singularly responsible for the death of a million Romeos in the world. Why do you think is the rose red??? I saw red too…as I felt a million blood vessels burst in my nasal passage…strangely there was no blood…but I swear I felt a blood rush. I was about to hit the pinky-happy-fellow…when his defense mechanism prompted him push the coffee bean vial under me again. And then my anger subsided…I felt sedated and felt as if…I had just been summoned back from spirit-world. But respite was far…far…faaaaaaaaaar away. To be precise…15 odd whooshes away. By that time…I had started believing that I was more luckier than cats…given the many lives I was reliving. Into the fading light of the horizon…I saw a distant grubby halo of my friend, zeroing in on one particular glass globule, with a hideous chemical weapon inside…I felt a distant voice calling my name, asking me, “ Doesn’t it smell great”. A cadaver of a skunk, topped with garlic, wouldn’t have initiated a response, as of then…

Before the lights went out…I remember laughin’, then cryin’, then yodelin’…I was high on caffeine, from them coffee beans!