Petrichor: The Moments

by Shon Mehta

Whenever it rains, and its earthy scent — the petrichor — hits my senses, memories come flashing and I go back in time.

I was around seven to eight years old that time. My maternal grandparents lived in a small hill station. It was a sleepy town, where people woke up late in the morning and went to bed early. The town was founded in medieval times as a fort, and the school, the police station, and government offices were all housed in old, imposing buildings built in those times.

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