I am slightly addicted to perfumes. And deodorant. And other stuff like that. Because, you know, I like to smell good. I love waking up and taking a comforting hot shower, spritz on my favorite perfume, and go out to face the day with a smile, because nothing quite rejuvenates you like a warm bath with plenty of suds.

I love it when that someone comes near me, gets a whiff, smiles appreciatively, and say… “You smell so good!”

And I smile a Cheshire Cat smile of satisfaction.

So what happens when you are standing in a very crowded bus, and suddenly, you are assaulted by … THAT SMELL. And you wonder at first… “What’s that smell, boss?” But quickly, you realize, that whatever it is, it’s not a good thing at all! At all!

It’s not just sweat.

It’s not just rotten meat mixed with dirt.

It’s not just rotting flowers and a sense of decay.

It’s like a night in the pharmacy with some formaldehyde and an overdose of fermenting tamarind.

It’s like a dead rat that is lying forgotten somewhere inside your bookshelf.

It’s like a nightmare that you can smell. Especially when you are under the covers in a sleepover and you know it wasn’t you who let it rip.

It’s like eternal damnation.

Hurriedly I looked about for the culprit.

On my left, there was a man who was calmly reading a book while clinging to the pole on his side. I inched towards him, and realized, the air was lighter in that zone. However, when I moved closer, the man looked up from his book and gave me a cruel stare. I cringed and re-arranged myself to my former position.

On my right, there was a lady, with her arms stretched up to hold on while the bus was on the move. I inched closer, and then sharply moved my head back.

Yep. I had spotted the culprit.

 I could see that the people around me were all suffering. Silently, stoically, they absorbed the smell, their expressions tragic.

And here was my chance to save them!

Sneakily, I reached inside my bag. I located my bottle of extra-strong deodorant, while humming innocuously, as if nothing was wrong in the world.

And then I bring it out and spray a bit of it on me. I spray it on my left armpit. On my chest. And then, carefully aiming, pretending to spray it on my right armpit, I spray her a good dose of the deo.

“What the…? What are you doing! What is this? What is this?,” The lady screeches at the top of her lungs. Thankfully, the bus moves in top speed, and no one speaks. I hurriedly babble out an apology, and put the bottle back inside my bag, mentally thanking myself for my brilliance.

I look back, and I see grateful smiles.

The day is saved. Exit, stage left!

Disclaimer: This Post is Written as a Response to the Racold Reborn Everyday with Hot Water in Association with Indiblogger.com. For further action and discussion, check out – https://www.facebook.com/racoldthermoltd

Written by Poorna Banerjee

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