Which food, when you eat it, instantly transports you to childhood?

Certain smells and flavors have an uncanny power which transports me back to my childhood, unlocking memories I thought were long forgotten. These sensory triggersghee wafting from a neighbor’s kitchen, the tang of fish curry, or the sticky sweetness of a chocolate baract like keys to dim corners of my mind, where moments from my past flicker to life.

The rich, nutty aroma of ghee drifting from the flats downstairs instantly transports me to North India, where I spent much of my childhood. It’s the smell of my mother’s kitchen, of warm parathas sizzling on a tawa, and lazy Sunday mornings filled with laughter. That heavy, golden scent wraps around me like a familiar embrace, conjuring images of bustling markets and family gatherings under a wide, open sky.

Some evenings, the unmistakable smell of fish curry spices sneaks up from the Bengali neighbors’ kitchen. In an instant, I’m a child again, on vacation in Kerala. The air is humid, thick with the promise of rain, and I’m running through narrow lanes to my grandmother’s house, where fresh fish simmers in coconut milk. Those vacations were bursts of freedomdays spent exploring, nights filled with stories, all underscored by that sharp, tangy aroma.

Every bite of a Cadbury Five Star bar is a time machine. The gooey caramel and chocolate melt on my tongue, and suddenly I’m five years old, clutching my first chocolate bar, a gift from my auntie. Her smile, the crinkle of the wrapper, and the thrill of that first bite flood back. It’s not just a candy barit’s a moment of pure, unfiltered joy, preserved in sweetness.

Then there’s the thick, electric air after a June downpour. The leaves gleam, washed clean by the rain, while clouds loom, heavy with the threat of more showers. Puddles dot the ground, and passing cars splash muddy water onto pedestrians. That scene catapults me to my school days in Kerala, trudging through the rain, my brand-new uniform splattered with dirt. The chaos of those walkshalf frustration, half adventurefeels vivid again, as if I could step back into those muddy shoes.

These moments aren’t captured in albums or framed on walls. They live in the quiet recesses of my brain, tucked away until a familiar scent or taste sets them free. Photographs fade, but these sensory memories endure, vivid and unshakable, tying me to the child I once was.