Stories, reflections and observations shaped by human values, everyday life and the quiet dignity of people.
Smell of a place - An evolutionary perspective
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Interesting talk, but more than the management idea, what
attracted me was the use of the term, 'smell of the place'. Nothing is more
primordial, deep rooted than the sense of smell. Neuroscience has shown the
smell has a strong link to emotion and long term memory. Ever wondered why the
smell of the same talcum powder we were showered with as a child (or to our
children), evokes the same old memories? I recently used the old green Cinthol
soap that comes in a red wrapper, which we used as children and the same
childhood memories came back in a rush.
The reason is scents bypass the thalamus and go straight to
the brain's smell center, known as the olfactory bulb. The olfactory bulb is
directly connected to the amygdala and hippocampus (the brain's main memory
center), which might explain why the smell of something can so immediately
trigger a detailed memory or even intense emotion.
But why does smell get this elevated status over other
senses in our brains? Some think it goes back to the way we evolved: Smell is
one of the most rudimentary senses with roots in the way single-celled
organisms interact with the chemicals around them, so it has the longest
evolutionary history. This also might explain why we have at least 1,000 different
types of smell receptors but only four types of light sensors and about four
types of receptors for touch.
Another reason why the term, 'smell of a place' caught my
attention is that when one breathes in air in a room, the first sensory
perception is of course the smell, but as the air fills the lungs, it becomes prana or the life-force. Nothing is more vital than prana. It is a life
force that we not only take in but also give out. In this sense it is very
organic and basic to our very existence.
So when Prof.Sumantra Ghosal used the term, 'smell of the
place' it actually means much more than just the phrase. It has far deep rooted
existential connections.
Remembering Albert Schweitzer For reasons I cannot fully explain, Albert Schweitzer came back to me recently. My first encounter with him was in childhood, when I was barely ten or twelve. I remember a book — blue in colour — far beyond my reading ability at that age. I remember his photograph inside. I remember that it spoke of peace and of service to humanity. I understood neither in any meaningful way, yet something stayed. Perhaps children recognise sincerity before they understand ideas. Life moved on. Over five decades, his name would surface now and then — in passing references, in conversations, in lists of Nobel Peace Prize winners — but I never found the time, or perhaps the inner readiness, to go deeper. And yet, the impression never faded. Today, that unfinished encounter seems to ask for closure. Albert Schweitzer was many things: theologian, philosopher, musician, doctor. But what sets him apart is not achievement; it is choice. At a time when intellectual recognit...
An old silent pond— a frog jumps into the pond, splash! Silence again. This weekend’s Musings arose from an invitation to reflect on these lines by Matsuo Bashō. What began as an invitation soon turned into a gentle challenge, as it became clear that the poem invites many ways of seeing. It can even invite silence, as we honour the stillness of the pond. The image is simple, almost bare. A still pond. A sudden leap. A brief splash. And then silence again. Nothing is explained, nothing is concluded. What is offered is a moment, complete in itself. Yet, being a Musing, I must still arrive at my own reading. In these lines, Bashō draws us into a world where there is no past or future — both constructs of the mind, or the ego. He lives entirely moment to moment, in full awareness of it. The past becomes nothing more than memory, a storehouse of conditioning, biases, and habits. The future is merely the drama projected from that past. In such a state of awareness, action is no longer ...
Having just completed my duty, or shall we say my right, by casting my vote, a few observations and thoughts came to mind. The walk to the polling booth is something I take almost every few days, so I was not expecting anything eventful to happen. But I was in for a surprise. Unknown people were greeting me and smiling. One particular person, whom I had neither met nor seen before, actually called out my name and said, “Mahimkar saheb, 4 number lakshat theva.” I noticed regular shopkeepers and party workers standing in groups, and it was not difficult to guess their affiliations. Another thing I noticed was a white band across the road with “200 meters” written on it. Closer to the center, it read “100 meters”. When I had seen this a few days earlier, I had not known what it was for, but today it became clear. Strangely, I noticed one more thing—the streets were extra clean, as if one day’s clean roads would influence our decision! The center itself had standard security measures, and...
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