Fragrance of rain, books & tresses

Sumit Paul 

Years ago, I came across a sweet-sounding word, petrichor — the earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil. The word is constructed from Greek ‘petra’, meaning stone, and ‘ichor’, the fluid that flows in the veins of the gods in Greek mythology. This fascinated me. I began to think whether there were words for the smell of old and new books! Recently, I came across the word ‘Biblichor’, for the smell of old books, but it appeared laboured and modelled on ‘petrichor’. Why is there no specific word in English or European languages for the smell of books is intriguing. Do the westerners only read the books and not smell them? 

Samuel Johnson, who compiled the first lexicon of the English language, A Dictionary of the English Language in 1755, was a renowned bibliophile who loved the smell of books, to quote English poet and critic Dr Matthew Arnold. Yet, it is strange that he couldn’t coin or phrase a word for his love for the quaint smell. 

But in Arabic, there is a beautiful word for it — rihanat. Rihanat-e-Kitaab (smell of a book) is a compilation of aphorisms by Al-Quddoos (1377 AD). Persian is even more subtle and comprehensive when it comes to defining the smell of books. Persian language itself is so fragrant and perfumed. It has two distinct words for this. The smell of old books is called ‘qa’az’ and ‘inha’az’ describes the smell of fresh, new books.

Ghalib wrote in Persian: Aza’n shudam zulf-e-jaanaan yek am nau kitaabaan (the smell/fragrance of my beloved’s tresses reminds me of the just out-of-mint smell of new books). I don’t know whether a fastidious beloved would find it complimentary to hear this simile! Nonetheless, the metaphor conjures up a beautiful image before the eyes and intellectualises Ghalib’s lady-love.

Thomas Otway wrote, ‘Bookish smell of my beloved’s long hair.’ I don’t know if his beloved liked it and what did he actually mean by this left-handed compliment/simile!    

When it comes to smells, certain fragrances can be felt but never worded. Legendary perfume-maker Roja Dove, who has the world’s most impressive nose, once said very aptly, ‘Smell that cannot be captured and created is the smell that lingers on in the senses, never to be replicated.’ The quasi-rustic smell of the rains, the elitist fragrance of books, whether new or old, and the pervasively inebriating scent of a beloved’s wet hair are aromas that can never be created or concocted, but to be experienced with the senses to be transported to a realm different from the mundane world we live in.