Musings In the Moonlight

I stand and gaze at the full moon smile down at Mussoorie nestled on the Himalayan foothills. Chants from a distant temple throb through the air. The man's reedy voice rises and falls, magnified, undoubtedly enthralling many into a spiritual high.
I remember that as a child, the sound of hymns and mantras used to feel comforting, like a warm embrace. Like a grandmother's tale, oft-repeated, familiar and much-loved. I'm far from the temple but I can almost smell the agarbatti - t...