The whiff of sandal wood.... From my childhood days, what it brings most to my mind is the scent of my father. As early as I can remember, he used to bathe with Mysore Sandal Soap.
My dad used to be posted in Tamil Nadu. So as to give us a better, undisrupted education, Mum stayed on back in Kerala with me and my sister, while he went about his work in Nagapattinam, Rameswaram, Sivakasi, Udumalpet (my sister and I simply LOVED to call this place by its original name- Udumalaipetai), Madurai and so on. We used to join him during our school vacations.
By the time we were old enough to have an opinion of our own (and apparently that was pretty early in my case, so my elders tell me!) we wanted to experiment with the various soaps coming out in the market.
While packing our trunks, we would pack up all the new soaps that had come into the market, for who knew whether we would be able to get those delectably perfumed soaps in the far-flung-from-civilisation places that he used to be posted in? On unpacking, we would take out those fragrant packets, with anticipation, for naught! For, Dad in his delight at having us over, would already have furnished his house with everything that could possibly be needed, and that included his bathroom, with that sandal redolent Mysore Sandal soap!
What used to irritate the most was that that soap never used to come in a bright new design or new premium package or get repositioned or smell extra sandally/less sandally or anything! It used to always be that humdrum yellow pack, with some elephants on it. How unutterably dull! But my Dad was addicted at the time to two things- his Scissors (for men of action satisfaction)and his Mysore Sandal Soap. All our Ponds and Pears and Luxes and Tiaras and, I forget the names of the others we fondly packed, would be disgustedly re-packed when we had to leave at the end of two months.
The bathrooms of Udumalaipetai, Sivakasi, Madurai, Dindigul.., all without exception smelt of Mysore Sandal soap. Whiffs of the same would also trail through the other rooms throughout the morning- my Dad would have his bath first, prior to leaving for office, followed by us children during the morning, followed by my Mom at the end of her mornings chores.
Day in and day out, for two months, we would have to put up with that fragrance. In the course of years, we tried to get Dad to switch, if not to the feminine scents, at least to a different sandal scent. But he remained staunchly loyal to his Mysore Sandal soap.
When my sister joined college, I was still in school; our holidays ceased to coincide and our trips to Dad became few and far in between.. He made his trips to Kerala more frequent then. But then, as he used to come for only a few days, he would put up with whichever different scents reigned in the bathrooms then.
We used to stay as a joint family (my mothers side) and there were enough people- of both sexes, and various ages, and plenty of soaps to choose from. Sadly enough Mysore Sandal soap used to figure only very rarely in the monthly list of groceries.
After he retired, when we moved out of our tharavad and into our own house, Daddy ceased having to make compromises and went back to his Mysore Sandal with a vengeance. But then we had 3 different bathrooms, so we didnt have to compromise either.
Some more years down the line, I moved out of home and into a hostel and that was when the greatness of Mysore Sandal really struck me. While passing the row of bathrooms, with several perfumes wafting out, even a slight whiff of that unique fragrance was enough to flood me with memories. Of the loving confines of home and my dear Dad and Mom .. Of all the many places the soap had been a constant companion, through thick and thin, uncaring of any disregard or slights.
Inside the Co-operative Stores on Campus, the sight of the packaging (still the same old yellow and green, and still the same old oblong shape) made me quite homesick and that I think was the first time I bought Mysore Sandal soap of my own volition.
At the time, when I used to have a bath with it, it was almost as if I were within the loving arms of my Dad and he was smiling in appreciation of my finally having acquired some taste in life! It is such a very distinctive fragrance, so different from all the me-toos that crowd the market.
Some more years down the line, I moved to the hometown of Mysore Sandal soap, this time, job in hand. And that unique fragrance has never stopped reminding me of my Dad.
Now he is no more, but each time I pass a supermarket row and find myself face-to-face with that soap, it can still bring my Dad back so very effectively. That delicate perfume holds such a wealth of memories. Of a time when the biggest care of my life was how to shift my Dad to a different soap.