The ground coffee from the darshini.
The heady aroma of the Akasha Mallige.
Frying onions from an unknown source.
Agarbathi or dhoop fragrance from a nearby window, part of the evening worship.
A waft of strong perfume from a lady whizzing by on the back of a scooter.
Punctuating all these, and vitiating them, the stench of accumulations of garbage.
My city is a nasal smorgasbord.