The word “petrichor” has always evoked in me, images of weaselly-faced bald men in lab coats furtively swiping petri dishes into their trouser pockets.The pleasant earthy scent of fresh rain on dry soil is not an immediate association.But earlier this week, when I was sent a few pictures of the pre-monsoon rain in Calcutta, I shut my eyes, and was transported back in time, to when I was barely five – to when I experienced my first petrichor moment, all over again.Walk through tiny Rowland Road, which becomes the aptly and quaintly named Rainey Park, and you will end up on Gurusaday Road. You will probably even miss the narrow private road unless you know it’s there, but as you cross the threshold, the impatient street honking immediately mutes, and then you make your way inside another world.Barely wide enough for a car, the driveway disappears through a canopy of trees, letting in just enough sunlight to keep it one degree away from spooky.Illustration: Pariplab ChakrabortyAnd then just as you turn a corner you are greeted by the sight of a white temple. It is not elaborate. There are no devadasi carvings etched onto walls. No tall spires crying out for attention. This is just a flat roofed structure, open on three sides.It is so unpretentious that it could be anything else – just not a Hindu temple.And there is absolute silence. Sometimes you can hear the cry of a bird as it swoops through. Or the rustling of leaves created by the wind-tunnel bridging the deep divide.It is as much a place for meditation as it is for prayer.Just outside, in the small grassy section is an old fashioned well – complete with an old bucket at the end of a pulleyed rope.The area around the well has been trampled upon, leaving little bare patches of cracked soil.And if you are there, like I was more than 50 years ago when the first drops of rain fell on my face, you will see the water being absorbed straight into your soul.In a moment or two, the humidity in the air will recede just a bit.And if you are lucky, you will also have your petrichor moment again.Justin Budhdeo is a Sydney based, non-practicing Calcuttan whose mind wanders everywhere, but invariably ends up in his favourite city.We’ve grown up hearing that “it’s the small things” that matter. That’s true, of course, but it’s also not – there are Big Things that we know matter, and that we shouldn’t take our eyes, minds or hearts off of. As journalists, we spend most of our time looking at those Big Things, trying to understand them, break them down, and bring them to you.And now we’re looking to you to also think about the small things – the joy that comes from a strangers’ kindness, incidents that leave you feeling warm, an unexpected conversation that made you happy, finding spaces of solidarity. Write to us about your small things at thewiresmallthings@gmail.com in 800 words or less, and we will publish selected submissions. We look forward to reading about your experiences, because even small things can bring big joys.Read the series here.