India, Oct. 27 -- I must admit my love for soaps is no accident. I've proudly inherited it from papa, who treated his soap shelf like others treat stamp albums. I sniff, select, and stock soaps as though they're souvenirs, not meant for suds and scrubbing. Back in the good old '70s and '80s, life was simple and soap was simpler. There was one bar in one soap case, shared by all, no frills, no foam parties. Just pure practicality and that unmistakable aroma of cleanliness. For us kids, the undisputed king of soaps was Lux, "filmi sitaaron ka saundarya sabun." If it was good enough for Hema Malini, Rekha, and later Juhi Chawla, we believed it would make us glow with beauty, too. Then there was Lifebuoy, the soap of real, rugged hygiene. "Lifebuoy hai jahan, tandurusti hai wahan." Its red bar was practically an army recruit. No nonsense, no scent, just clean. It was the soap of school camps and Sunday oil baths, gritty, grainy, and oddly reassuring. But the one soap that truly spiced things up was Cinthol. I vividly recall that Vinod Khanna ad, the bare-chested hero with wet hair walking under a waterfall while the voice declared: "Begin your day with Cinthol freshness!" That was a turning point, soap turned sexy. And then came Pears, the transparent one. The "rich people's soap," we called it. Kept strictly in drawing rooms with attached bathrooms, never allowed near sweaty cousins or visiting relatives. You could see the light through it-pure, golden, elegant. Even the jingle whispered class: "Pears ka sabun translucent hai, khubsurti mein excellent hai." Let's not forget Nirma beauty soap, with its coconut-oil ka vaada (promise) and that iconic tune: "Nirma beauty soap mein hai coconut oil ka goodness." Cheap, cheerful, and used more for washing clothes than bodies, but hey, it lathered. As children, we were actors in our own soap operas. Buckets became waterfalls. One bar served a battalion of brothers. Tiny scraps were mashed together into a rainbow relic of all soaps past. There were no 25-variant aisles back then. No "infused with charcoal and Himalayan pink salt". No confusion. Just one bar and a simple pleasure. These days, bathrooms are stocked like skincare aisles with body washes, shower gels, scrubs, and serums for every mood. Back then, bath time wasn't a spa session. It was routine - quick, practical, and fuss-free. I long for the single-soap cake simplicity, when soaps smelt of Sunday, sunshine, and steel buckets. When Doordarshan sold us dreams with a melody, not marketing jargon. Even today, I secretly stash a bar of good old Lux in my bathroom cabinet. Inside that rosy rectangle lies a lathered legacy of simpler times, smaller dreams, and the sweet scent of nostalgia. So, here's to the humble soap, not today's scented diva with fancy labels and designer claims, but to the honest bar that bathed our childhood in bubbles of joy....