About: I wrote this a long time ago, when living in Mumbai, in 2005. A time when I devoured The Times of India newspaper, from the first to the last page, and even engaged with it, writing letters to the Editor. It also happened that they published one of my letters on how to improve Mumbai, as the best of the day.

Disclaimer: this is a cheeky, frothy, light-hearted story of the times gone by, and any unmindful reference to a living or dead person is unintentional.

The Sunday morning newspaper of The Times of India, cleverly revealing the scents that attract a man to a woman, got me thinking, and ‘shook and stirred’ my own sexual past!

I was born, the only son, to rural parents and packed-off to a Boys-Only Boarding School in the mist enveloped mesmerising Hill Station of Yercaud, in Southern India. I passed through School without much of the scent of a woman-beyond straining every muscle and eye, to see the skirt-clad girls of the neighbouring Girls-Only Boarding School, while they walked-past, guarded by Holy Sisters of the Faith. Many of my friends, at that time, were awfully daring and adventurous, clearing boundary walls, hiding in bushes, and striking at bathroom windows to catch a glimpse of, let’s say, loved ones! And if you had a sister at the Girls-Only School you had visiting rights on Sundays, and the boys made the best use of them. Talk of ‘hitting’ many birds with one stone!

I landed in a City Engineering College; without adding many clothes or losing them, to this department! However, I found my inward eye often traveling back to Boarding School, to Class VI and dwelling on my beautiful Anglo-Indian Class Teacher! The moon-shaped face, with oval eyes, let loose waist length hair, above-knee length skirt struggling to keep hidden secrets against a well-toned white skin, all appeared crystal clear, as if I had seen them just yesterday. This despite the layers of dust years! Yes, I’m sure I could smell the very dreamy feminine soft perfume she used to wear. Amazing! My heart almost broke, when near completion of Class VI, she produced her would-be-husband, who she intended to marry in the coming months. And quit teaching at Boarding School. She asked us boys to recite a poem for him; and I literally poured my heart out! Those were the days!

In College, I picked up the courage (after many eye-shattering look-aways) to look a woman in the eye and make sweet conversation. She was a friend’s girlfriend, and within my circle of friends we lovingly called her ‘supertanker’ for the ‘super assets’ she possessed. I realised I could light up their faces with witty, Actor Rajinikant-like punch lines. However, I did not explore the ‘valleys of the South nor the mountains of the North, or the deserts in-between and beyond. I never drew my gun to fire; and my adventures were limited to teasing a charming smile out of the fairer sex.

I tested and polished this newly discovered skill on a beautiful girl who was a Miss Salem runner-up. She was a cousin, and we became good F R I E N D S. We used to exchange wonderful letters – I still treasure them, much like Nehru’s letters to Indira; and whenever we got to meet, we could talk for never-ending hours, into the twilight, on everything under the sun. It was an environment-friendly endearing relationship as I was often carefully reminded, by the family, mind-it she is a (cousin) sister. With not much scope for ‘greater things’ we kept it that way, and she will always remain the first woman I ever got to know beyond Mom. By this time, I had become a wordsmith, having written a ton of letters, and learned the secrets, and associated benefits of having a sister.

I graduated from the City College and started my first job in the sequestered Township of Neyveli, South India. Old habits die-hard, and the mystery of women still captivated me. Meanwhile, I became a something of a steam turbine expert-being an Engineer-and thoroughly explored my job. Once a curious -a long-haired black beauty she was-woman colleague of mine working in the ‘Electricity Department happened to pass by, while I was ogling at the naked Turbine – armoured casings stripped out, while assembling. I grabbed the opportunity, struck a conversation and explained the steam of workings-losing sense of time for over an hour, prompted by my ‘wit valves’.

People noticed the black interest and made a connection. On a cold December month, peer pressure and vain valour made me send her a Christmas Greeting from far away Haridwar, where I was posted on Steam Turbine Inspection Duty. She received it-showed no visible signs of moving ahead (damn Santa, he failed me!), and the following year, married someone else, and left the turbine neighbourhood.

Meanwhile, I married an extremely beautiful woman who wore the name of one of the five famous Tamil Epics, but the hair was not long enough to meet my dream expectations. It was now the time for real action on the ground, some experimentation and producing results, which I successfully did-one son was the output!

A job assignment took me to the beach-littered Island of Puerto Rico. I settled down as a married bachelor in Guayama, where I was commissioned to start-up a steam turbine. The Puerto Rican girls greet you with a kiss on the cheek; I had to wipe off the lipstick many a time, but was modest enough to teach them the ‘touch-free namaste’. I later regretted that, as the kisses came down to a trickle! Most of the Americans who were on the same assignment ‘picked-up’ someone local, while the home fires burnt bright in yonder United States. I was the odd-guy out, preferring to keep locals at a distance. The girls in Puerto Rico quit their homes on the weekends to be with their boyfriends, while the boys bring their girlfriends in!

The Puerto Rican girls were awfully breath-taking! I had severe eye burn; did not know where and when to park my eyes, during the first week of my stay, but grew familiar with the skin show. I dug deep into my woman skills and tried to create my own Caribbean black magic. It worked, but I kept it respectable, to win invitations to: dinner-many times over, a yacht trip in the Caribbean Sea-where I sighted dolphins, and perhaps mermaids too, a photo shoot, a cock-fight, and a New Year party! However, I stayed true to the Tamil Epic! A Date? What is that? No true lies here.

I learnt slowly, but have always been amazed by the beauty a woman exudes. If Helen of Troy could launch a thousand ships, the beauties of today launch over a million eye-ball swings: I’d call them the first wonder of the world! Can give the Taj Mahal a run for its wonder.

I have since moved to many offices in as many Cities, but was consistently lightening-struck by women of ‘long lustrous hair’, the right hip-to-waist lithesome figure, gorgeous face, and of course, to make a clean breast of things, the mandatory ‘great big Indian obsession’. In that order! The discovery prompts me to strike a conversation and check-out any available inner beauty; Hello, is it there? If discovered, things roll to building a good relationship. I even get the Epic introduced to them, or else, it’s sudden death.

What makes a man do this? Is it just the chemical make-up? Are men naturally born to this? I am happily married and enjoy a tremendous relationship with ‘The Epic’ at home, yet, I thoroughly enjoy the sight of a beautiful woman in full flow. Sometimes it is so intoxicating that you feel, I dare say, totally lost; weak in the knees-goes the saying, and guilty of looking or even starting a ‘Stare-Wars’ however harmless it might be!

I got this from one of my readings in The Times of India.

It takes 8.2 seconds for a man to fall in love at first sight, say scientists. What’s more, if a man’s gaze lasts 4 seconds, research suggests, he is less than impressed. But if the eye contact breaks the 8.2 second barrier, he could be in love. Man, even if got Aphrodite as a wife, he is genetically inclined and programmed to gaze at any lass. In other words, man is a perpetual gazer. Looking or flirting is to a man like fragrance is to a flower. And didn’t the Buddha say, “look intensely at every beautiful thing, for beauty is fleeting”. Men only try to follow Buddha’s sage advice in earnest.

Looking back at the nostalgic wonder years in School, when in a pensive mood, I cherish these harmless beautiful memories; call them locked up secrets? Bah! the ‘Scent of a Woman’ indeed lingers. Meanwhile, over to the next long-haired beauty! I‘ve left one behind (that’s a secret) a trail in each of the cities I’ve lived in, Chennai, Salem, Hyderabad, Bangalore, Mumbai, Gurgaon, and Chennai.