Grace Lim)

As I passed through the temple gates, the strong tones of musk from the 200-year-old building overwhelmed the subtle spice of the Mumbai air. The pungent odor filled the empty hallways and crowded my nose like masses of temple patrons. Nearly 50,000 people passed through the temple each day, leaving a lingering odor of warm bodies I could almost taste.

The light, sweet smell abruptly replaced the odor as I entered the inner temple. Patrons approached the golden statue to give an arrangement of offerings including coconuts, sweet treats and marigolds. The powerful fragrance ushered up my nasal passage as I approached the shrine of the Hindu god Ganesha. The shrine room itself—not much bigger than a bathroom—magnified the intensity of the fragrance and transported my nose away from reality. It smelled like no other place I had been before. 

Upon a second whiff, a dark scent, resembling myrrh, pierced my nose as I approached the monk near the shrine. The aroma recalled memories of sitting in the traditional Anglican church of my parents and the christening of my little sister. 

While I stood before the golden Hindu idol adorned with offerings, the fragrance of the temple whisked me away to thoughts of Christianity. Perhaps the scent of religion smells the same wherever you go.