In a little hilly hamlet of southern India, lived a young girl called Bulbuli. She lived in a hut with her mother. Her house was surrounded by the tallest and greenest trees you would have ever seen. On misty days, the leaves of plants and trees held the biggest dewdrops you could imagine. Bulbuli was as sprightly as her name. She, along with her friends, would prance through the endless forests around her village. She loved to take in deep breaths every morning as the air carried all kinds of different aromas. Sometimes she could smell a sweet, sweet fragrance. At other times it was a strong and sharp scent. Then there were days when all she could smell was a familiar bouquet.