Have you ever got a whiff of something in the air which immediately conjures this image in your mind? The smell makes an instant connection with something, some vision, in the past; something that you might not have remembered, least of all for the ambient smell, and yet, there it is: the image of the past, fueled by the ambient smell of the present.

Some years ago, while walking to college, nearing the footbridge, I caught a waft of the smell of burning coal. Not the strong, smoked filled smell that brings tears to your eyes, but the gentle reminder that there is a unoon being lit somewhere. And before I new it the image of Bhowanipore was in my mind. The kitchen with its coal unoon, the early morning smell that filled that room and me - standing somewhere at the door, with a step across the threshold.

More recently it happened while riding past the army grounds on the Bullet and then a sudden smell again... a moist, fresh smell. Cut grass. Brought back the school grounds when the grass had just been hacked to a manageable height and it lay in small mounds, dotting the ground. Cut grass smells different here. And there are no small mounds. There is the lawn mower.

Sometimes I think I know why people make films - at least it's a reason why I would make a film. There is this image in my mind. The light is just as soft and diffused as you would want it, the ambient sounds just the right pitch, the movement just the right pace. It's so perfect that it gives you goosebumps. And that's the way you want to keep it forever. You want others to see it through your eyes, through your imagination. Just the way you want it.

I see a small girl with pigtails sitting, hugging her knees to herself, on a small wooden plank. The plank has four, small, spherical wheels attached with ball-bearings beneath it. A pair of legs, a boy's, are running, as he pushes the girl and the plank along. He is wearing thick, black-framed glasses. There are squeals of laughter echoing through the red-cement corridor, as the wheels squeak and grate on the floor. They move at what they think is a break-neck speed, scattering everything that comes their way... and stop only when the corridor plays spoil sport and comes to an end. Undaunted, they just turn around and head the other way... with their laughter following after them.