Forms: adjective: redolent
Phonetic pronunciation: [red-oh-lent]
Redolent, originally meaning fragrant or sweet smelling, traces its roots to the Latin verb “olēre,” meaning “to smell,” which itself is a relative of “olfactory,” meaning “relating to, or connected with the sense of smell.”
Its first recorded use in English was recorded in the 15th century. Nowadays, 'redolent' usually applies to a place or object saturated with odours. It can also be used to describe that which reminds us of someone or something else, which evokes a certain emotional response. For example, "the bookshop was redolent of history and forgotten memories." #redolent#smell#senses#sweet#heady#odour#lovelostwords#writersofinstagram#amwriting#logophile#writersofig#writersblock#wordstoliveby#writer#wordart#author
Here's a common creative problem. This comic is from about 2006, when I was a precocious undergrad (What happened? Heh.) and often felt thwarted by the expectations my past work had produced. I've since surmounted it, but not in the positive, growth-mindset way you're thinking! I just started to experience less satisfaction with my projects once they're completed. The downside is obvious, but the upside is that I always feel I can do better next time.
While I press the pen to paper, no ink is released between the lines seen before me. The words I desperately search for are in heavy traffic, while I'm left waiting aimlessly for hours. Now, a title of some idea I may have had is all that is left.
-Me to you, Well, no-one really.
Six years ago, I told Priya about my ambition of making a career in the United States. She was a third year Internal Medicine resident at Phoenix hospital in Mumbai. I was a final year medical student in the same hospital. We had been dating for ten months and our parents often had dinner together. We were supposed to get married as soon as I graduated and she would apply for US residency again.
One evening I was out on a date with her at a fine dine restaurant by the sea. She used to pay on most dates as she was the resident and I was the student. That day, I asked Papa for money as I wanted to celebrate the completion of her second year. She had to go to the restroom while we were waiting for the food to be served. It was fate intervening as she forgot her phone on the table and there were multiple beeps. Those text messages changed my life forever.
“Would you be coming over tomorrow?”
“I miss you” by ‘Unknown’
I checked the phone number corresponding to ‘Unknown’ and dialled it on my phone. There was a contact saved on that number - Rohan Joshi, another third year resident at Phoenix.
We had one of the biggest fights after she confessed everything. I broke up with her and went to the United States for five months of clinical experience. During my time there I tried to forget and move on. After completion of the internship, I returned to Mumbai to find my parents waiting to tell me something that couldn’t be said on the phone. I had to tell something too, I told them I should probably go talk to her. They sat me down, gave me a glass of water and told me she got married to Rohan two weeks ago.
“What are your names?” I asked as I smiled at the two newly added residents in the Medical ICU team.
I hadn’t moved my eyes from Ryan when I heard it. The voice of this young Indian woman was familiar, it took me back by several years as I slowly recognized those eyes behind the heavily laden mascara. I turned to look at the patient charts, trying to hide the astonishment. I wanted to call sick and go home but pulled myself together and cued to begin the case presentations.
It was Priya’s turn first as she described a critical patient admitted with fever and possible sepsis. “Chest Xray shows consolidation and he also has a wound in the leg,” she continued.
I had received a memo from the department coordinator about a resident from a New York hospital coming to ours for an elective rotation, but never checked the name.
“So what do you think is the source of the infection?” I interrupted.
“It is unclear whether it’s the pneumonia or the wound. But I’ll start him on antibiotics..”
As I listened to her, I suddenly remembered how I was supposed to feel anger, how unfair she was and how I hated her. Finally I saw the ring on her finger with the same cubical diamond I dreaded.
“Cultures need to be drawn before starting antibiotics,” I darted as I pounced to condemn her error. “This is the ICU, you have dying patients here. Rookie mistakes are not permitted.”
It did not feel wrong. I felt I was obligated to make her feel miserable, I felt it was unfair that I was cheated while being engaged to be married. (Part 1/8)