January 2006 marked my first visit to Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh, India. It was neither a business trip nor a holiday, but the beginning of the most important spiritual journey of my life — a journey to someone who would become a guiding light, whom I would visit every year for the next ten years. Those visits took place both in festive December and in the scorching heat of April or May, when temperatures rise above +40°C. The heat, though intense, is bearable due to the dry early-summer climate, while winters can be surprisingly cold and humid, with temperatures dropping to +5°C or even lower.

When I first arrived in Kanpur, I had no idea where to stay. One of the sons of my spiritual guide suggested a hotel in the city’s business district. It was clean and relatively affordable, though not cheap by Indian standards, largely because it was located next to a large market and was popular among businessmen visiting Kanpur to source leather shoes, belts, and other leather goods.

Real animal leather — yes, in India. Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is vegetarian. In fact, many are not anymore. Even those who are supposed to follow a vegetarian diet for religious reasons often make exceptions when travelling. On flights to Europe, when offered a choice between “chicken” or “vegetarian,” they almost always ask for the chicken option. By the time the flight attendants reach the back rows, there is usually no chicken left. A simple tip, then: if you like chicken, always choose a seat closer to the front!

After taking a shower in the hotel room, I ordered some delicious paneer pakoras, served with ketchup and a flask of chai. Exactly what one needs after a long and exhausting evening journey from Delhi to Kanpur. Everything seemed normal and familiar.

When I woke up the next morning, I noticed that my face and ears were burning and itching. Slowly, the itching spread over the rest of my body. I was almost certain I had contracted some serious infection. I was scared and confused — this had never happened to me before during my visits to India. I had been travelling extensively in the region since 1999, occasionally staying for very long periods.

I was advised to visit a local doctor. After waiting several hours at a private hospital to be admitted without an appointment, the doctor examined me and said I had developed an allergic reaction. He assured me everything would be fine and prescribed antihistamine medication. The doctor could not identify the cause of the allergy — and neither could I.

Days passed, filled with spiritual practice. Itching gradually became unbearable. The allergy worsened to the point where my entire body was itching intensely. I felt as if I had some contagious disease, scratching constantly, unable to find relief.

After two weeks in Kanpur, I returned to London, where I had been living since 2000. But the allergy did not disappear. After countless sleepless nights and no improvement, I finally went to the hospital in Wembley Park, desperate for help.

The doctor there — an experienced woman — asked me to show all the affected areas. She was visibly shocked by my condition. My entire body was red, inflamed, and I could not stop scratching. She told me that to stop such a severe allergic reaction she would have to prescribe steroids, which would reduce the swelling and calm the immune response.

I did not want to take steroids, but I had no choice. My life had become a nightmare. After starting the medication, the itching stopped and the swelling slowly subsided. I felt enormous relief.

At that point, I did not want to go to India ever again. I was frightened and traumatised by this experience. I had always trusted Mother India, but this time something felt deeply wrong.

Of course, I could not live without India. No chance. By April 2006, I was already booking flights to see my teacher in Kanpur again. The allergic episode felt like a thing of the past, and I was looking forward to returning to my meditations with my beloved Guru.

When I arrived in Kanpur in April 2006, I chose a different hotel — closer to my teacher and away from the busy market area. I was convinced that local dust had caused my allergy, as dust is everywhere in Kanpur. But I was wrong.

Soon after taking showers in the new hotel, the allergy returned with vengeance. My skin became red and unbearably itchy once again. This time, however, I knew the cure. I went to a local pharmacy and bought generic steroid medication similar to what I had been prescribed in the UK. The drugs worked — the symptoms subsided, though they did not disappear completely.

Because I was staying in a greener, cleaner area of the city, I began to doubt that dust was the cause. There had to be something else. I started to suspect the water.

I began researching the water supply in Kanpur and was shocked to learn that the Ganges is at its most polluted while flowing through the city. Numerous leather industries operate in the area, using chromium to process leather — the very reason why leather shoes feel so soft and comfortable.

I soon discovered that Kanpur has two types of water supply: communal water, delivered to most hotels and residential buildings, and deep ground water — cleaner and purer — accessed by properties that have drilled wells over 120 metres deep.

The solution seemed simple: I needed a place that used ground water. In practice, it was not easy. Every hotel I checked relied on communal water — a complete dead end.

After five days of searching, I was driving through the lush grounds of Kanpur Agricultural University when I noticed a small building marked “CET Hostel.” I decided to try my luck. After speaking with the staff, I was shown their water source — a deep well supplying the building with water for showers and daily use.

After lengthy discussions and even a meeting with the university’s Vice President, I was finally allowed to stay at the guest house. Once I began using ground water exclusively, my allergy slowly disappeared.

Since then, I have stayed at this guest house on every visit to Kanpur.

Now you may wonder why I titled this piece “Hidden Dangers of Recycled Temple Flower Incense.” There is a reason.

Flower waste collected from temples is washed before being dried and reused. One hopes this is done using clean water. But if temple flowers are washed on an industrial scale using communal water in India, this is deeply concerning. Heavy metals present in the water do not disappear — they remain on the flowers throughout the drying process.

Moreover, temple flowers are rarely fully organic. Many flowers sold near temples are grown using heavy pesticides to accelerate growth and improve appearance. During my stay at the Agricultural University in Kanpur, I personally witnessed seminars organised for village farmers, teaching them how to use increasingly aggressive chemicals to boost production.

This is not GMO farming — it is intensive chemical exposure.

So the next time you burn incense made from recycled temple flowers, remember my story about the water in Kanpur.

Kanpur is located in northern India, in the state of Uttar Pradesh, which is the most populous state in the country, with approximately 241 million people (2025 projections). This represents roughly 17% of India’s total population.

Recent reports from 2025 indicate that the stretch of the Ganges River flowing through Kanpur remains among the most critically polluted sections of the river. The primary sources of pollution are industrial tannery effluents and untreated municipal sewage. As of late 2025, water quality in the Kanpur stretch (from Farrukhabad to Purana Rajapur) is classified as being under significant pollution threat. Riverbed sediments show moderate to high contamination with heavy metals, particularly chromium, lead, and cadmium. Faecal coliform levels in the Uttar Pradesh stretch have also been reported as far exceeding permissible limits for bathing and drinking.

Kanpur’s more than 400 tanneries are major contributors of toxic chemicals, including hexavalent chromium, a known carcinogen. Studies published in 2025 indicate that chromium concentrations can increase up to tenfold downstream from tannery discharge points.

I am writing this not to discourage people from travelling to Uttar Pradesh, but to explain why incense produced under such environmental conditions may pose safety concerns. Not only the finished incense, but also the raw materials used in its production can be affected, as toxic chemicals from tanneries are reported to seep into groundwater and soil, contaminating local agricultural crops.

There is a significant economic and ecological divide between northern and southern India. The North is often characterised by higher population density, heavier industrial pollution, and weaker environmental controls. For this reason, we deliberately choose not to manufacture our incense in northern factories. Even when natural ingredients are used, locally sourced materials and water may still be contaminated, which is something we refuse to compromise on.

We work exclusively with factories located in southern India, a region generally regarded as cleaner, more industrially organised, and less densely populated. Local raw materials there are far less exposed to the industrial chemical pollution common in parts of the North.

While filming a short documentary about Meena Perfumery in Bangalore, we were shown the groundwater well located directly on the factory premises. This well supplies the water used in incense production. In some cases, producers in southern India even use energised temple water, valued not only for its purity but also for the spiritual vibrations created through prayer.
When purchasing incense, it is always worth paying attention to where it was made.

Happy burning!

I decided to write this blog post to answer many questions about different technologies of making incense, because despite my many efforts in communication with our customers, there are still many gaps when it comes to the ways of making high-quality natural incense.

I am not going to cover charcoal-made dipped incense here, which is produced simply by rolling charcoal paste onto a stick and then dipping it into fragrance oil. This method is obvious and widely known. People also know why it is better to avoid charcoal-only incense—not only because it is made from charcoal, which is an excellent burning material, but also because in order for charcoal to be rolled onto the incense stick, some sort of binder is required to keep the paste wet. Unfortunately, with the cheapest incense, many corners are cut, and instead of natural binders such as halmaddi resin or jigit powder, some form of glue is often used, which can be far more harmful.

I would like to cover three types of incense technology here: masala, perfumed masala, and basebatti (“soaked” masala).

Classic Masala Incense

To make masala incense, one needs wood powder, charcoal or coconut shell powder, halmaddi resin, jigit powder, honey (if desired), and essential oil or an oil blend. These ingredients are added to a blender and mixed into a dough. The paste is then rolled onto the incense stick. This is the most common way of making incense.

The benefits of masala technology are obvious: it is smooth-burning and can be kept fresh for many, many years because the fragrance is already locked inside the stick. In order to create “unique selling points,” some companies have claimed that they rediscovered masala technology in the 20th century. This is a false and incorrect claim—masala technology has been known for centuries and was never “rediscovered.” Do not believe the marketing hype.

Perfumed Masala Incense

In our catalogue, there is only one such incense: Amber Oudh. You can find it here. It is made exactly the same way as classic masala incense, with only one additional step: once the classic masala sticks are made and dried, they are dipped into perfume oil. This results in a perfumed masala stick.

This extra step makes the incense even more fragrant—juicy, balsamic, and multi-layered when burned. Such incense is usually far more expensive than standard masala because it contains a much higher quantity of perfume. The sticks are not soaked in perfume oil for a long time but are dipped for a short period only.

Basebatti

This is the third and more recently developed type. I say “recently,” but it was actually developed around 40 years ago in Bangalore by a Muslim company, according to the information I have.

It is made in a similar way to masala: wood powder and halmaddi/jigit powder are mixed in a blender, but fragrance oil is not added to the mix. In other words, we have a classic masala stick without added fragrance. Usually, halmaddi content is minimal or completely absent. Such sticks will still have a neutral woody smell, but they will not be very complex or fragrant.

Once the stick is formed, it is coated with powder and left to dry. After drying, the sticks are soaked in perfume oil—sometimes for a long period—to absorb as much oil as possible, making them extremely fragrant. Unlike charcoal sticks, basebatti incense can absorb up to 80% more oil and requires a much higher quantity of perfume than classic masala incense. For this reason, basebatti incense is usually the most expensive.

In our catalogue, basebatti sticks include Absolute Oudh, Arabian Oudh, Royal Mysore Sandalwood, Royal Sandalwood, and others. They appear darker than typical masala incense, and the colour of the powder is uneven along the stick because it has been dipped in perfume; the oil darkens the powder naturally.

Woody scents such as Oudh, Sandalwood, Frankincense, and Myrrh are usually best made as basebatti, because a neutral base absorbs the oil without distortion from honey and other ingredients typically added to masala incense. That said, there are many beautiful Oudhs and Sandalwoods made using masala technology—our own Oudh, Oudh Majestic, Sandalwood Origins, and Sacred Frankincense are all masala sticks. These tend to be richer and more multi-layered, but if someone wishes to experience the pure scent of the oil itself, basebatti is the better choice.

“Charcoal-Free” Dhoops and White Batti

Quite recently, the market has been flooded with so-called “charcoal-free” dhoop sticks that all look identical—light brown and dipped in perfume. These are highly synthetic and potentially dangerous. Without charcoal or coconut shell powder, such sticks will not burn naturally, so it is very likely that sodium nitrate or potassium nitrate has been added to keep them lit. These should be avoided at all costs.

The same applies to White Batti. These are ready-made sticks imported from China or Vietnam into India and then dipped in perfume. Despite their “natural” appearance—perfectly uniform, machine-made brown or light-brown sticks—they are produced from very cheap wood powder with chemical binders added to facilitate burning. Technically, despite being charcoal-free, white batties are extremely dangerous and should be avoided at all times.

I hope this helps. If you have any questions, please drop us an email or leave a comment below.
Thanks for reading!

There are many beautiful temples in the world, built during those glorious times when humanity still believed in the power of Gods and tried to please them for the sake of their own prosperity and spiritual guidance. India is known as the country with the largest number of temples in the world, but there is one temple complex that always stands out in its uniqueness: Khajuraho. With statues of couples engaged in intimacy in its most open form—shockingly for the 9th to 11th centuries CE, when most of the local temples were built—Khajuraho stands out as the most mysterious and controversial expression of human spirituality and the mysteries of Tantra.

Khajuraho Temples are not among the most visited in India. The reason is that Indian perception of sexuality has undergone a massive transformation over the past millennia, possibly due to Mughal influence, or more likely due to its own changing relationship with once-dominant cosmological concepts of the Vedas—towards a primitivization of what was once a complex relationship between a mortal man with his desires and virtues, and the divine, for the sake of wider society. From a sacred act of Tantra and transcendence from animal to divine, as Tantric practitioners saw it, sexuality in India has become a sort of taboo, hidden beneath religion and censored by a largely repressed society that is mostly incapable of comprehending the legacy of Tantra today. Khajuraho complex is a grey swan among white swans—belonging to the same tribe but often seen alone due to its uniqueness. Welcome to the most mysterious and controversial temple complex on Earth: Khajuraho.

We travelled to Khajuraho, located in the Indian state of Madhya Pradesh, from Kanpur, UP—the home of my beloved Spiritual Master for 10 years, from 2006 to 2016, before he passed away. He is still my spiritual guide, and will remain forever.

It was a cold and foggy January morning in 2009, when winters in North India turn really harsh and humid, often unpleasant, with temperatures dropping to +5°C at night—a massive contrast with the scorching hot summers, when waves of oven-hot air travel from the deserts of Rajasthan and Punjab, hitting Uttar Pradesh with heat up to +45°C.

When we told our Guru about our intentions to travel to Madhya Pradesh for a sightseeing visit to the Khajuraho complex, he immediately but gently disapproved of the idea, though he did not insist on abandoning it altogether. So we got a “ticket to ride,” but our trip was not blessed by our spiritual guide.

We left early in the morning with the idea of reaching Khajuraho before sunset, staying one night at a hotel, and then leaving the next day after spending enough time at the site. We hired a good-quality Honda car, almost brand new and in great condition—a comfortable and “lush” choice for those days in India. The trip was long and exhausting at times, not peaceful, with many stopovers for snacks or a cup of tea—recklessly bought at random roadside restaurants and cafés of questionable hygiene. We bought a few hot samosas at one of the road stops, which proved to be a costly mistake. A few hours later, after many bumps and jolts due to the poor condition of the roads in Uttar Pradesh, our stomachs exploded with pain, and we had to stop midway for a short recovery break—yet another one on our path to Khajuraho.

After a certain purification and restoration of calm, we recommenced our journey with the intention of reaching Khajuraho before sunset.

Finally, we arrived at our destination around 5 p.m., when the local temples were preparing for evening puja (worship). We decided not to wait and, before checking into our hotel, rushed to attend a puja in one of the Shiva temples. The temple was small, with a black Shiva Lingam (phallic symbol) in the center and plenty of candles and oil lamps everywhere, so there was no need for electricity at all. The puja was led by a priest, a rather small man in his 60s, with round black eyes and a little beard. He was atypical for a temple priest, as he did not have many of the distinctive signs—such as a long toga around his torso or a bell with a handle to ring at intervals, as we often saw in temples across India, especially in the South. At the same time, he did not look like an ordinary man; he was definitely a special character with a mysterious aura around him. Perhaps he was not a priest at all, but the local people stood in a queue seeking his blessings. So we joined the queue too and were blessed with a short mantra whispered over our heads and a piece of vibhuti (holy ash) applied to our foreheads.

The energy of the temple was unlike that of other Hindu temples in the North we had visited, and totally different from the energy of churches in the West—especially the Orthodox churches we grew up with. The energy of the temple was a reflection of the cosmos at night: deep, dark, and mysterious, full of stars. It did not have one single note or frequency, as we know from Orthodox churches known for their high vibration of love and divine grace. There was immense power—Shakti—grossly concentrated and locked between the temple walls, trying to escape, unable to live within its confines. Perhaps the energy was a bit primal and basic, but in a very conscious way, as one would expect a rock or mountain to carry a higher consciousness. There was nothing sexual about the energy of the temple, but sheer power and greatness—Shiva’s presence. The energy represented the Universe as a whole: undivided, complete, yet full of force and dynamism. It was like a womb—protective and secure, but at the same time too powerful to be contained.

The fragrance of the temple was a mix of a fragrant Flora with added notes of coconut and even chocolate — possibly because a raw coconut had been used during worship before our arrival—with mossy and mineral notes emanating from the thousand-year-old walls of the temple that had seen everything: from the glorious days of the Chandella dynasty to the dark days of the Mughals, when many temples were destroyed. The walls were made of porous black stone, typical for Shiva temples found in South India. Those walls always emanated warmth—regardless of the weather—another mystery to be solved. I was always impressed by the choices of ancient temple architects who selected materials for temples so wisely, using only the most suitable stone for energy and grace preservation, capable of perfectly absorbing the fragrances of agarbatties burned in the temple and the fruits and offerings used in puja—milk, coconut, and various oils.

I still see us standing inside that temple today—somehow time froze, and we remained in the past, locked inside, as if within a black hole that transcends space and time.

If you wish to experience our fragrant interpretation of Khajuraho, try our Khajuraho Temple Incense sticks — created to capture the atmosphere and sacred scents of the temple we once visited.

To be continued.

What our dear customers say in December warms our hearts and fills us with gratitude. Their feedback is a true gift during this festive season. It is so pleasing and soul-nourishing to receive reviews like these. It is like bathing in the sun during the cold winter. Thank you all. We love you.

The incense sticks arrived on Dec 11th. Shipping really fast. Thank you very much for the sample incense sticks and the extra goodies. The smell of the purchased chopsticks is simply indescribable. Even a day later (after airing a 25 sq. m room) this fragrance is discreetly present. I can recommend him to everyone. Thank you very much for your work behind it. It won’t be the last time I’ll get something for my soul from you. Thank you very much. I wish you peaceful days (ps.to Germany no customs duties).

Franco, Germany

Great quality and great service! Incense is of high, long lasting quality. Package is beautiful and seller included ‘thank you’ note as well as few free samples. Great price for great product!

Tea, Croatia

The same applies to Oudh Masala: the one we received from you in September had a dominant mint note and is truly as described on your website – a little too much mint to our taste actually – but we ordered it again because it did remind us of the original Oudh Masala from Paul Eagle from 10 years ago, although that one had more barnyard notes, and an ambergris note; we only have a few sticks of those left.

Gezina, Netherlands

I’m in love with the warmth of Woody Champa. It creates such a cosy and welcoming atmosphere. The scent is balanced; sweet and spicy with just the right amount of champaca florality. I don’t want to ever miss this scent in my collection!

Irene, Germany 

The Olfactory Rescue Service, or ORS as many know it, is the oldest and most respected incense review website, covering quality incense from all over the world.

Taken from the review of our Oudh Majestic incense: 

“It’s been a long time since there was a real contender to the Oud Masala from the Happy Hari family, that nearly perfect blend of masala base and at least an approximation of a decent oud to complement it. There are also a number of charcoal based ouds out there that one might not be able to pick out a specific aroma in a line up. Pure Incense have provided a wide and almost dizzying array of oud and aloeswood incenses from Madhavadas and often the issue is less the top oils than the base. I’m not sure where Oudh Majestic came from but it’s a really good charcoal oudh and has an oil mix on top that seems constructed to display something a bit better than the usual oudh tinged colognes.”

“Balsamic Amber just absolutely impressed immediately, it’s an instant hall of famer. It’s interesting but when we talk about good incenses we can spend so much time in areas (usually the woods) where resources are precious and rewards only given to the expensive, so Balsamic Amber reminds me that you can still create something excellent without having to go there.”

Rauchfahne is an upcoming, next generation blog on incense of all kinds, written by Irene, a German incense enthusiast who not just has a rich knowledge about the topic but also makes her own incense from natural ingredients.

“Practically out of nowhere, a new own brand appears in 2023 – Bhagwan Incense – with a considerable range of high-quality incense sticks and at comparably low prices. It uses the renowned name Happy Hari to advertise its quality and also seems to repeat the story of the person behind Happy Hari – Paul Eagle: a man who travels to India to find the best manufacturers of incense sticks and these to sell to the West under its own brand name.”

In the serendipitous year of 2018, my world was forever altered when I stumbled upon the enchanting music of Estas Tonne in the depths of YouTube. What initially seemed ordinary soon revealed itself as a tapestry of extraordinary emotions woven by a solitary maestro, armed with nothing but his guitar. His music bore the stamp of passion, an inner fortitude, and a nostalgia that, rather than plunging into melancholy, danced with poignant memories. It was as if he sought something profound through his music, an ardent quest for answers, with emotions flowing not from him but through him. Onstage, he entered a trance, conjuring a delightful restlessness in the hearts of those who listened, inspiring a passionate and conscious embrace of each moment, a life steeped in gratitude for the divine Here and Now.

My days soon revolved around his videos, perpetually on loop. Gradually, an epiphany emerged – there was more to his music than met the ear. Struggling to articulate it, I found myself describing it as “a river of life,” an invisible force that surged forth with each strum. From the stage, it radiated, a potent epicenter, traversing the space and enveloping those nearby in profound meditation, as if collectively transported to another realm.

My thoughts meandered to the realm of qawwali and the legendary Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. He, too, would ignite the stage with his love for the divine, conjuring waves of sound and ishq (love), punctuated by the graceful sway of his head and hands. The stage buzzed with activity, yet the audience wore tranquil expressions, lost in muraqabah (Sufi meditation), their eyes wide open, glowing as if in prayer. It was the same phenomenon, that invisible force transcending from the performer to the audience. Was the qawwal’s performance technically flawless? Perhaps not, but it mattered not; the result eclipsed the process, and the result was nothing short of sublime.

Then, a captivating detail caught my eye: an incense stick gracing Estas’s guitar’s neck. It burned with grace, its tendrils of smoke mirroring the grace in his movements. In every performance, this incense played a role, inseparable from the music, each enhancing the other.

An insatiable curiosity stirred within me – what was the incense that accompanied Estas’s performances? For some inexplicable reason, my thoughts turned to Myrrh and Amber, fragrances that held a special place in my heart, often kindling them during my creative endeavors. Amber bolstered concentration, while Myrrh exuded mystical depths with its ethereal resonance. However, it appeared my guess was wide of the mark.

Estas had chosen an incense that perfectly complemented his artistry, crafting an ambiance where his creative spirit soared unencumbered. His choice? Sandalwood and Rose. What a splendid selection, accentuating the elegance of his music and the artistic essence of his being. While Amber and Myrrh were earthy and grounding, Estas had opted for scents that provided structure (sandalwood) without the weight of resin, and the ethereal lightness of rose, an ethereal companion for his inner flights of fancy.

It became evident that his choice of incense was a mere reflection of his character – a blend of strength, gentleness, and kindness, seamlessly interwoven. “There is no conflict if you embrace life as it is and do not fight with it,” Estas often professed. These words, golden truths, evoked memories of Sufi mystics who navigated the bustling world while keeping their hearts attuned to prayer: “Dil ba eru dast ba kor” – “Heart with God, hands in work.”

I hold the fervent wish that one day, you will have the chance to witness Estas’s enrapturing performance in your own city. If such an opportunity arises, immerse yourself in this once-in-a-lifetime manifestation of life’s essence on stage. It will transform you, cleanse your heart, and leave you with a newfound lightness that lingers for countless days, a testament to the enduring power of love and art.

Let us talk about the music of incense and fragrance of the Earth. Sounds like a Zen Koan, doesn’t it?

When we visited Kannauj, a small town in Uttar Pradesh in the north of India, we were shown an attar (perfume oil) which resembled the fragrance of the soil. Yes, it smelled like soil, and we were surprised to learn that one can replicate the smell of the Earth using natural botanical ingredients.

Then we were shown fragrances that create joy and ecstasy or sorrow and sadness. How is this possible? We were shown fragrances that were named after famous qawwali singers (qawwali is a type of Sufi singing associated with Chishtiya Sufi tariqa). I remembered the world-famous guitarist Carlos Santana, who loved one particular incense, which is made using a perfume oil composition called Amber Kasturi – a mysterious temple smell of amber and musk.

Yes, incense is like music – it can create joy and happiness, can concentrate the mind, and can help with creativity, relaxation and peace. Incense can change the aura of a room within minutes, and it can change our state of the mind the same way as music does. Isn’t this wonderful?

There is an incense for everything, and every time of the year.
When it is cold, we tend to make a cup of hot tea and burn some myrrh or frankincense. When the spring comes, we might use some arabic oudh (agarwood) and patchouli that will dance in the wind. In the summer lemongrass and rose are great for freshening up a room and cooling it down, while some amber in the autumn can give a space a thoughtful mood. Incense is part of our life – it is our invisible companion.

At the same time, incense is the culmination of nature`s creation, and the ability of man to create fragrances that impact the world within us, and communicate with the world beyond us – something our ancestors have been doing for thousands of years.

If only they had known that one day, someone sitting in a city office would use amber incense, and a young lady who goes to a yoga class would come home and burn a stick of Nag Champa, just to bring a smile to her face….