<p>I have always had an acute sense of smell. This can be both a blessing and a curse. My wife refers to my nose as the "police naayi"— a local detective dog. I can tell if milk has boiled over in the morning or if a patient who promised to stop smoking has surreptitiously sneaked out for a cigarette before visiting me. I will know if the asafoetida has been overdone in the sambar simmering in the kitchen or if my wife is wearing her mother’s silk saree. The lingering smell of naphthalene balls from untouched suitcases is a clear clue.</p>.<p>The nose is central to the face and has a prominent role in many works of literature. As children, we were entertained by the story of a marionette, called Pinocchio, whose nose grew longer every time he said a lie. Rudolph surfaces every Christmas with his only claim to fame being a red nose. Saleem Sinai, the protagonist of Salman Rushdie’s <span class="italic"><em>Midnight’s Children</em></span>, is equipped with a blocked sense of smell that somehow grants him telepathic powers. Cyrano de Bergerac justified his monstrosity by saying “A large nose is the mark of a witty, courteous, affable, generous and liberal man.“ </p>.<p>“Nosology” has popped up in literature quite often and many writers have created a malleable symbol of power with this little lump on our faces. Though the nose can be funny, or even absurd, beauty is often judged and scored by the nose. A Grecian nose or an aquiline nose could be markers of beauty while a button nose could be considered cute. And those who are not blessed genetically with a ‘perfect’ nose, sometimes opt for the surgeon’s nose-job to improve on nature.</p>.<p>An inquisitive neighbour was traditionally referred to as a Nosy Parker, but social media has taken over this role. Everyone is shooting incriminating videos of their friends, strangers and politicians and poking their nose into other people’s business. But everyone is beginning to smell something fishy about the way the internet seems to know everything about our lives. Big Brother has been obviously nosing around in our personal data.</p>.<p>In recent months a loss of smell has been taken as a cardinal sign of the dreaded virus. And the return of those wonderful odours that we take for granted mark the onset of good health once again. The pungent fragrance of eucalyptus oil in a headache balm or the soothing familiar smell of sandalwood from a soap— these can be the harbingers of good health. </p>
<p>I have always had an acute sense of smell. This can be both a blessing and a curse. My wife refers to my nose as the "police naayi"— a local detective dog. I can tell if milk has boiled over in the morning or if a patient who promised to stop smoking has surreptitiously sneaked out for a cigarette before visiting me. I will know if the asafoetida has been overdone in the sambar simmering in the kitchen or if my wife is wearing her mother’s silk saree. The lingering smell of naphthalene balls from untouched suitcases is a clear clue.</p>.<p>The nose is central to the face and has a prominent role in many works of literature. As children, we were entertained by the story of a marionette, called Pinocchio, whose nose grew longer every time he said a lie. Rudolph surfaces every Christmas with his only claim to fame being a red nose. Saleem Sinai, the protagonist of Salman Rushdie’s <span class="italic"><em>Midnight’s Children</em></span>, is equipped with a blocked sense of smell that somehow grants him telepathic powers. Cyrano de Bergerac justified his monstrosity by saying “A large nose is the mark of a witty, courteous, affable, generous and liberal man.“ </p>.<p>“Nosology” has popped up in literature quite often and many writers have created a malleable symbol of power with this little lump on our faces. Though the nose can be funny, or even absurd, beauty is often judged and scored by the nose. A Grecian nose or an aquiline nose could be markers of beauty while a button nose could be considered cute. And those who are not blessed genetically with a ‘perfect’ nose, sometimes opt for the surgeon’s nose-job to improve on nature.</p>.<p>An inquisitive neighbour was traditionally referred to as a Nosy Parker, but social media has taken over this role. Everyone is shooting incriminating videos of their friends, strangers and politicians and poking their nose into other people’s business. But everyone is beginning to smell something fishy about the way the internet seems to know everything about our lives. Big Brother has been obviously nosing around in our personal data.</p>.<p>In recent months a loss of smell has been taken as a cardinal sign of the dreaded virus. And the return of those wonderful odours that we take for granted mark the onset of good health once again. The pungent fragrance of eucalyptus oil in a headache balm or the soothing familiar smell of sandalwood from a soap— these can be the harbingers of good health. </p>