By Neha Kirpal
It goes without saying that New Delhi-based journalist Divrina Dhingra has a strong sense of smell. In the introduction to her recently released book, The Perfume Project (Westland Books, INR 599), she writes that she carries around a “scent library” in her head – a collection of memories catalogued by scent.
A lush narrative about Dhingra’s journeys through Indian fragrance, the book brings travel writing together with technical knowledge about the science of aromatics, history as well as personal memories going back to her earliest years.
Dhingra’s parents got divorced when she was a child. As she moved cities and studied at boarding school, she gathered several olfactory references. For instance, she recalls the quintessential smells of Delhi:
“The tiny, pale green and unremarkable-looking cluster of flowers on the saptaparni trees that line entire avenues and produce an inexplicably moving scent when they bloom in early winter, the acrid smell of burning leaves, the mysterious perfume of tiny harshringar flowers which bloom in the evening and wither by sunrise, the welcome fragrance of the first rain in June.”
In a similar vein, “cold walls, pinewood and hand soap” are what consist of her strongest smells of Shimla, the setting for many of her childhood vacations. Over the years, the memories of these scents stayed singularly unmarred for her. “Any one of them encountered unexpectedly could conjure up images of people and places with near-hallucinatory clarity,” she writes.
Dhingra discusses popular theories that explain how the olfactory is the most evocative of our five senses. She also talks about the intimate link between scent and emotion, and the reason why so many of our scent associations are formed in childhood. This piqued her interest to research the perfumes of India, their oils, essences and distillates.
India is home to 18,500 varieties of aromatic plants, the oils of which are found in flowers, leaves, bark, seeds, wood or roots. For centuries, these have been used medicinally or cosmetically.
Ancient Indian texts tell us that men and women liberally used perfume for their bodies and dresses, and that sandalwood paste was a particular favourite. Kalidas’s Meghaduta even references the practice of Indian women scenting their hair, using fragrant oil or drying it over burning incense.
Further, burning agarwood to scent a room marked status and taste. Rose water was also used by the Mughals to scent their rooms and clothing as well as flavour food. Moreover, fragrance was also linked to good health, healing properties and sanctity.
Kannauj became a kind of centre of perfumery in the country, due mostly to its climate. The author visited the Fragrance and Flavour Development Centre (FFDC), which was set up by the government in 1991 to study indigenous aromatic plants and their uses. Spread over an area of nearly 24 acres in Kannauj, the FFDC campus is filled with fields of aromatic plants.
While in Kannauj, Dhingra also visited the factory of Pragati Aroma, a large perfume distillery in the city. Soon after, Dhingra enrolled in a perfumery school in Grasse, France, the world capital of the modern perfume industry since the eighteenth century.
Later, the author went to the Institute of Wood Sciences and Technology in Bengaluru. Nearby in Mysore, she shares her experience of visiting the century-old Karnataka Soaps and Detergents Limited, the country’s oldest sandalwood distillery and makers of the famous Mysore Sandalwood Soap.
Next, she travelled to Srinagar to witness the saffron harvest that happens annually in the month of November. The most labour-intensive spice, saffron is inseparable from Kashmir. For Dhingra, it signifies the smell of comfort. “It’s the smell of don’t-worry-everything-will-be-fine-here-eat-this, the smell of the sweet, milky and spiced phirni that my grandmother made,” she describes.
The book is a fascinating read for anyone who is even remotely interested in the world of perfumes. The sections dedicated to six distinct scents (rose, jasmine, sandalwood, saffron, oud and vetiver) make for a very readable mix of journalism, academic research and personal commentary.
The author ends the book on a reflective note by saying that traditional perfume has only ever reflected our collective human traits: “An inescapable, quotidian greed and, equally, a love for nature and a longing for beauty to reflect on – it has always been, quite simply, one of our many mirrors,” she concludes.
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