A hotel lobby is a pass-through space with constant air change where a guest spends ninety seconds between a revolving door and a lift. It is designed to be walked through, and it is scented at a level that survives ninety seconds of movement. A day-surgery lounge is the opposite kind of room: it holds the same frightened family in the same chairs for four hours, with nowhere else to go and nothing else to look at. Take a level that was correct for ninety seconds of transit and apply it to four hours of sitting, and you have not made your facility feel like a hotel. You have made it feel like a facility that does not know who is in it.
So "premium without smelling like a hotel" is not really a question about which register. It is a question about dwell time, air change and volume - and then, separately and more importantly, about all the things that make a building feel expensive that have nothing to do with air at all. Most of premium here is light, seating, acoustics, wayfinding, cleanliness and whether anybody looked up when the family came in. I would be doing you a disservice if I let a page about fragrance pretend otherwise.
And the fixed boundary, which applies whatever you decide about the public half: the clinical half of the building - pre-op, procedure and operating rooms, recovery, sterile and decontamination areas, clinical and drug storage and clinical waste - gets nothing at all, not a lower setting. What may be introduced into the air of a building with a surgical zone is decided by your own clinical leadership, infection-control policy and facilities engineering, and their decision overrides every recommendation here.
What actually makes a hospital feel premium? Mostly not fragrance. Light that is warm rather than fluorescent, seating a person can sit in for four hours, acoustics that stop a waiting room echoing, wayfinding that answers a question before it is asked, visible cleanliness, somewhere to put a bag, a charging point, and whether anybody at the desk looked up when the family walked in. Air is one small component sitting on top of those, and it is the only one that can actively make the room worse if it is overdone.
Should a day-surgery centre smell like a spa? No, and not because a spa smells bad. A spa register at a spa level in a hospital reads as a facility trying to be somewhere else, and a hospital should not pretend not to be a hospital - the goal is considered, not disguised. The clean, weightless, spa-adjacent character of White Tea Serenity is a good direction at a hospital level; the theatricality that goes with it in a spa is not.
A hotel lobby is a pass-through space. A guest crosses it in ninety seconds on the way to a lift, the doors open constantly, the volume is usually enormous and the air change is high. Everything about the scenting of that room is designed around a person who is moving: the level has to be high enough to register during a brief transit, and it can be, because nobody is sitting in it. The hotel is buying an impression at a threshold.
A day-surgery lounge is the opposite room in every respect. It holds the same people, in the same chairs, for four hours. They arrived before dawn, they are not going anywhere, and they have nothing to do but sit in whatever air you have given them. Something that reads as luxurious in ninety seconds reads as inescapable by hour two. That is not a subtle difference in taste; it is a difference of a hundred and sixty times in exposure, and it has to come out of the level.
Now do the arithmetic, because it makes the point twice. A large hotel lobby might be 3,000 sq ft at 20 ft, which is 60,000 cubic feet, about 1,700 cubic metres, with doors that never stop moving. A day-surgery public front of house might be 800 sq ft at 12 ft, which is 9,600 cubic feet, about 272 cubic metres, with an attendant lounge of 500 sq ft at 12 ft - 6,000 cubic feet, about 170 cubic metres - hanging off it. The hospital room is roughly a sixth of the air and holds people a hundred times longer. A setting transplanted from one to the other is wrong by two different multipliers at once.
What you should copy from a hotel is everything except the level, and the good habits are genuinely worth stealing. One register across the whole public area rather than a different one in each room. One setting, written down on a card taped to the machine, so it is a specification rather than an opinion. A timer, so the building is right when the first list arrives and nothing runs overnight. And consistency held over years, because a family who came in March and returns in September meeting identical air is what turns a register into a house character.
The last thing is the honest one. Most of what makes a healthcare facility feel expensive is not in the air at all, and a page selling diffusers should say so plainly. It is light, seating, acoustics, wayfinding, cleanliness, and whether anybody looked up. A portion of every SOSA order supports girl-child education through Nanhi Kali.
There is a second reason "smells like a hotel" is the wrong target, and it has nothing to do with intensity. A hospital should not pretend not to be a hospital. The goal is considered, not disguised. When a facility leans hard into hotel signals - the plush register, the theatrical entrance, the lounge music, the oversized flower arrangement - what it communicates is not confidence but a kind of embarrassment about what the building is for. Families are not confused about where they are. They drove there at six in the morning for a procedure. A building that is honest about itself and simply very well run reads as more expensive than one dressed up as somewhere else.
The third reason is more practical. Hotel-lobby registers are frequently warm - amber, sandalwood, plush woods - because warmth is a hospitality signal. In a clinical building warmth over a closed room is the beginning of the covering problem: the visitor has already caught a trace of disinfectant from the corridor, and sweetness arriving on top of it answers a question nobody asked. The direction that reads premium in a hospital is cool, dry and transparent, which is a narrower field than a hotel gets to play with.
And the most common expensive mistake of all: copying a hotel's machine rather than its room. A ducted installation makes sense in a building whose air handling was designed around it. In a day-care hospital, ducted scenting is an engineering decision taken with your own HVAC consultant, and a scenting unit is never ducted into air handling that serves a clinical zone. Buy for your connected public volume, not for the specification somebody quoted for a hotel.
Ninety seconds versus four hours - why copying a hotel's level is the mistake
This page has a technical spine and an honest spine, and they run in parallel. The technical spine is dwell time, air change and volume: three numbers that explain why a level imported from hospitality is wrong before anybody argues about taste. The honest spine is that fragrance is a small component of "premium" and that most of the budget belongs elsewhere, which is an uncomfortable thing for a fragrance company to write and is nonetheless true.
Start by noticing how unusual a day-surgery centre is as a commercial interior. Almost every other space I write about has either short dwell and high traffic - a shop, a showroom, a lobby - or long dwell and low traffic, like an office. A day-care hospital has both at once, in rooms that share air. Reception is a four-minute room on a good morning and a forty-minute room when the list slips. The attendant lounge is a four-hour room. The consultation waiting area sits somewhere in between and changes character hour by hour. And they are frequently open to each other, which means one setting has to serve a transit space and a sitting room simultaneously. When one number has to serve two rooms, it must be set for the one that suffers most from being wrong, and that is always the four-hour room.
Then the air change, which is the second reason hotel numbers do not transfer. A hotel lobby usually has a very high rate of exchange: enormous doors in constant motion, a big volume, and an air-handling design built around a busy pass-through space. A day-surgery front of house has automatic doors that open constantly too - which is a genuine air change, and the honest reason a hospital lobby loses fragrance faster than a retail space of the same size - but it sits in a much smaller volume with a much longer-staying population. High exchange plus small volume plus long dwell is a combination that punishes a high setting twice: you burn through fragrance quickly and the people who are there all day get the peaks.
And a note on where the money should go, since this page is going to keep saying it. If your facility has four hours of family waiting and the chairs are linked steel, the lighting is 6500K downlights, there is nowhere to put a bag, the wayfinding does not explain where the discharge desk is and nobody at the counter looks up, then a diffuser is not the intervention. It is the last five per cent of an eighty per cent job. Do the eighty per cent first, and then a low register at ₹1,899 will be the thing that ties it together rather than the thing that is carrying it.
In a hotel lobby the longest exposure that matters commercially is short. A guest crosses to the lift in ninety seconds; a guest who sits in the lobby bar has chosen to be there and can move. The scenting is therefore designed around transit, and transit tolerates - in fact requires - a level that would be unbearable to sit in, because a moving person samples the room briefly and then leaves it. The lobby is also huge and its air is replaced constantly, so the fragrance has to be pushed to register at all.
In a day-surgery centre the longest exposure is four hours, and the person experiencing it did not choose the room. They are an attendant waiting while somebody they love is in theatre. They cannot go for a walk, because they might be called. They are in the same chair, in the same air, for a working morning. Any level that is even slightly too high stops being a background and becomes a fact about their morning by hour two, and by hour three it is the thing they will mention when somebody asks how the facility was.
Now the volumes, which make the transplant worse rather than better. State your ceiling assumption every time, because in these buildings it swings hard. A hotel lobby at 3,000 sq ft and 20 ft is 60,000 cubic feet, about 1,700 cubic metres. A day-surgery reception at 400 sq ft and 12 ft is 4,800 cubic feet, about 136 cubic metres. An attendant lounge at 500 sq ft and 12 ft is 6,000 cubic feet, about 170 cubic metres. A connected public front of house at 1,500 sq ft and 12 ft is 18,000 cubic feet, about 510 cubic metres. Even the generous hospital figure is under a third of the hotel. So the hospital room needs less output to reach the same concentration, while simultaneously needing a lower concentration because of dwell. Two multipliers, both pointing down.
There is one place where a hospital is genuinely hotel-like and it deserves a different number of its own: the double-height entrance. A purpose-built facility may have a lobby at 16 to 20 ft, and a 600 sq ft entrance at 18 ft is 10,800 cubic feet, about 306 cubic metres, while a 1,000 sq ft entrance at 18 ft is 18,000 cubic feet, about 510 cubic metres. That volume behaves much more like a hotel: high, open, constantly exchanged, and crossed in seconds. It is the one part of a day-care hospital where a slightly more assertive setting is defensible - and it is also the part that leaks into everything behind it, which is why "slightly" is doing a lot of work in that sentence. If the entrance is genuinely separated from the seated areas, set them independently. If it is open to reception and the lounge, you do not have two rooms; you have one volume, and it must be set for the four-hour chair.
The practical method that comes out of all this: set the level for the longest-staying person in the connected volume, verify it from the doorway on a Monday morning after the building has been shut since Saturday, and never verify it standing behind the counter at the end of a Friday. And never, in any phrasing, reduce ventilation or close a vent so the fragrance holds longer. A well-ventilated lobby is genuinely harder to scent; in a healthcare building that is a feature and the engineers always win.
One register for the whole public area. A good hotel does not run a different scent in the lobby, the lift lobby and the club lounge. It runs one, and the building reads as a single thought. A day-care hospital should do the same across entrance, reception, billing, consultation waiting and the lounges - not because variety is unpleasant but because a building whose character changes as you walk through it reads as unplanned. The hospital version has a hard edge the hotel version does not: the register stops at the clinical boundary, and behind that boundary there is nothing rather than something quieter.
One setting, written down. The single cheapest professional habit in this entire category is a card taped to the machine with the register name and the number on it. Hotels do this because they have shift handovers and staff turnover. Hospitals have exactly the same problem and almost never do it, which is why so many facilities cannot tell you what they are running. Without the card, the level becomes an opinion held by whoever adjusted it last, and opinions drift upward - always upward, because the people who adjust it are the people who have gone nose-blind to it.
A timer. Hotels run their scenting to a schedule. So should you, and the hospital case is stronger: scenting OPD hours only means the public half is right when the first list arrives and nothing is quietly running at three in the morning into a closed building with nobody in it. That is one of the genuine reasons to look at the SOSA Vaayu at ₹11,999, which has a Bluetooth app and timer, rather than something that simply runs whenever it is switched on.
Consistency held over years. This is the one hotels understand best and independent facilities understand least. A register only becomes a signature by being the same for a long time. A patient who came for a consultation in March and returns for the procedure in September should meet identical air, and a group with three sites should match the perceived level at each rather than the setting number, because lobbies differ in volume, height, door traffic and air handling. That means each site is calibrated separately and written down.
And here is what not to copy, stated as a list so it is hard to misread. Not the level. Not the warm plush register - amber and sandalwood are hospitality signals and in a clinical building warmth over a closed room begins the covering problem. Not the theatrical entrance moment, because a threshold that announces itself in a hospital is announcing the wrong thing. Not the ducted specification quoted for somebody else's building, because ducted scenting in a healthcare facility is an engineering decision taken with your own HVAC consultant and is never ducted into air handling that serves a clinical zone. And not the idea that the premium room should get the strongest treatment: in a hospital the costlier and more private the room, the lower it should be dosed, because its occupant is the person least able to complain.
Light. More facilities are ruined by lighting than by anything else in this list. A waiting area under flat cold downlights at 6500K looks like a corridor no matter what furniture is in it, and a family sitting under it for four hours at seven in the morning is being lit like a car park. Warmer colour temperature, more than one layer of light, something at table height rather than everything from the ceiling, and daylight wherever the plan allows it. This is the single highest-return change in most day-care hospitals and it is often a lamp-and-fitting job rather than a renovation.
Seating. A four-hour chair is a different object from a ninety-second chair. Linked steel benches are for transit spaces. If your attendant lounge holds people for a morning, it needs seats with arms that a seventy-year-old can get out of unaided, a mix of orientations so two families are not forced to stare at each other, somewhere to put a bag that is not the floor, and a surface to put a cup on. Everything in that sentence is furniture, not fragrance.
Acoustics. Hard floors, glazed walls, a television nobody chose and a printer behind the counter make a waiting room feel cheap in a way people struggle to name. Soft surfaces, a rug that gets cleaned on a schedule, acoustic ceiling treatment and a television that is either off or subtitled do more for the perceived quality of a lounge than any register. And a quiet room reads as controlled, which is the same thing scenting is trying to communicate, achieved more reliably.
Wayfinding and communication. Premium in a hospital largely means not having to ask. Where do I pay. Where is the discharge desk. Where do I wait if I am the attendant rather than the patient. How long is this likely to be. A facility that answers those before they are asked, and that tells a family when the list is running late rather than letting them work it out, feels more expensive than one with better furniture and no information.
Cleanliness you can see, and whether anybody looked up. A clean floor, an empty bin, a counter without a stack of paperwork on it, and a person at the desk who raises their head when somebody walks in. That last one is free and it outranks everything else on this page. No fragrance has ever compensated for a family standing at a counter for ninety seconds while two people finish a conversation.
Do all of that, and then a low unsweet register across the public half is what ties it together - a final five per cent that reads as care because everything underneath it already does. Do none of it, and the register is a fragrance in a room that does not deserve one, which is the definition of smelling like you are trying.
- Copy a hotel's discipline - one register, one written setting, a timer.
- Count the dwell hours in your lounge before you copy any lobby level.
- Spend on light, seating, acoustics and wayfinding before you spend on scent.
- Judge the result from the doorway on a Monday morning, not from the desk.
The registers that read premium in a hospital rather than theatrical
If the direction is "premium but unmistakably a hospital", the register question answers itself quite quickly, because the field narrows to the cool, dry and transparent end of the water-based Hotel Collection. Each of the seven is SOSA's own hotel-inspired interpretation, and SOSA is independent and not affiliated with, endorsed by or connected to any hotel brand - which is worth saying twice on a page about not smelling like a hotel.
Quiet Luxury - white tea, bergamot and cedar - is the closest thing in the collection to a finished hotel lobby character, and the interesting thing about running it in a day-surgery centre is that the register itself is fine and it is only the level that has to change. Hushed and polished is exactly the right adjective pair for a premium healthcare entrance. Run it at a fraction of what a lobby would use, hold it across entrance, reception, billing and the lounges, and it reads as considered rather than as hospitality cosplay.
White Tea Serenity - white tea, aloe and cedar - is the better answer for the four-hour room, because it is the most transparent register in the collection and transparency is the quality people are least likely to tire of over a long sit. Clean, weightless and spa-like describes the character, and it is worth being precise about what to take from that: the direction is right for a hospital, the theatricality that usually accompanies it in an actual spa is not. If your entrance and your lounge are one connected volume and you can only run one register, this is the one I would choose, because the lounge is the room that will punish you for being wrong.
Forest Suite - cedarwood, vetiver and green leaves - is the premium answer for a facility whose fit-out has done the hard work: stone, timber, real planting, a contemporary consultant-led look. It reads as structural rather than decorative, which is exactly the quality you want in a building that is trying to look expensive without looking dressed up. In a facility where the interior is already good, this is often the register that ties it together.
Warm Welcome - citrus, floral and sandalwood - is the honest edge case. Warm and gracious hospitality is a real positioning for a neighbourhood family-facing day-care centre, and it can be done, at a fraction of hotel level and with the sandalwood watched carefully, because warmth over a closed room is where the covering problem starts. Tea Garden - jasmine, green tea and white tea - works in a softer, more residential front of house and wants a lower setting than the white-tea pair. And Old-World Glamour - amber, violet and woods - and Lobby Bar - citrus, pepper and amber - are precisely the hotel instinct this page exists to talk you out of: plush and after-dark are theatrical characters, they read as covering in a clinical building, and turning them down makes them quiet rather than appropriate.
The Vaayu and the ducted machines run four hotel-inspired waterless blends rather than these seven, supplied with the machine as one of three bundle choices - two different fragrance systems rather than one bottle in two sizes. And I will not rank the seven on measured throw or longevity: SOSA does not publish that, and in a hospital the variables that dominate are all yours - connected volume, ceiling height, automatic-door traffic, ventilation rate and the setting on the dial.
| Scent | Why it suits the mood |
|---|---|
| Quiet Luxury · entrance, at a hospital level | White tea, bergamot and cedar. The register that gets closest to a finished hotel entrance, and the one where only the level has to change. Hushed and polished is the right character for a premium healthcare threshold; run it at a fraction of lobby intensity and hold it across the whole public half rather than staging a moment at the door. |
| White Tea Serenity · the four-hour lounge | White tea, aloe and cedar. The most transparent register in the collection, and transparency is what survives four hours in the same chair. Take the clean, weightless direction and leave the theatricality that usually comes with it elsewhere. If entrance and lounge are one connected volume and you can run only one register, run this one. |
| Forest Suite · when the fit-out has done the work | Cedarwood, vetiver and green leaves. Structural rather than decorative, and the premium answer for a facility with stone, timber or real planting. In a building whose interior is already good, this is usually the register that ties it together without adding a layer of hospitality signalling on top. |
| Nothing at all · the clinical half, always | Pre-op, procedure and operating rooms, post-procedure and post-anaesthesia recovery, sterile and decontamination areas, clinical and drug storage, clinical waste. Not a quieter version of the front register - nothing. And in some facilities, after a proper conversation with clinical and infection-control leadership, the honest answer is nothing anywhere, which is a legitimate outcome rather than a failure. |
Sizing, since the whole argument here is that hospital numbers are not hotel numbers. Floor area multiplied by ceiling height gives cubic feet; cubic feet divided by 35.3 gives cubic metres; and say which ceiling you assumed, because hospital lobbies run 10 to 14 ft and a purpose-built double-height entrance can be 16 to 20 ft. A 400 sq ft reception at 12 ft is 4,800 cubic feet, about 136 cubic metres. A 500 sq ft attendant lounge at 12 ft is 6,000 cubic feet, about 170 cubic metres. An 800 sq ft public floor at 12 ft is 9,600 cubic feet, about 272 cubic metres. A 1,500 sq ft connected front of house at 12 ft is 18,000 cubic feet, about 510 cubic metres. A 600 sq ft double-height entrance at 18 ft is 10,800 cubic feet, about 306 cubic metres. Set those against a hotel lobby of 3,000 sq ft at 20 ft - 60,000 cubic feet, about 1,700 cubic metres - and you can see why a specification written for one is meaningless in the other.
For most day-care hospitals the purchase is therefore small. A single reception is a SOSA Sukoon at ₹1,899 or a SOSA Boond at ₹899 running the water-based Hotel Collection from ₹299, with 100ml refills at ₹999 and the seven-bottle 15ml pack at ₹1,799 for auditioning registers in your own air. A lounge that runs all day without anybody touching it is a SOSA Megh at ₹3,499 with a 6 litre tank. A genuinely large, open, double-height public front of house is the waterless SOSA Vaayu at ₹11,999 - approximately 1000 cubic metres of connected air, Bluetooth app and timer, 400ml tank, freestanding or wall and HVAC mount, DC 12V / 1A at 5W, mains powered, CE, RoHS and SGS. Its hospital argument is what it does not do: no water, no humidity, no wet residue. It is an ambient fragrance product for public areas, not a medical, clinical, infection-control or air-treatment device, and it adds scent rather than removing odour.
Two systems and they are not interchangeable: the ₹299 water-based bottle never goes into a Vaayu or into Aangan at ₹25,999 or Meenar at ₹38,500, which run waterless nebulising oil and are ducted decisions taken with your own HVAC consultant - and never ducted into air handling that serves a clinical zone. If you want the smallest possible intervention at a small counter, the SOSA reed diffusers from ₹749 need no plug and nothing to switch off, and last about 6 to 10 weeks; Mountain Breeze at ₹849 is the closest of them to a hospital's woody direction.
For the full zone-by-zone argument that sits underneath this page, read what a premium day-care hospital should smell like. If you have not yet settled whether to do any of it, the honest case on both sides is should a premium day-care hospital use ambient fragrance at all. And if "not like a hotel" is really a question about direction - fresh, clean, woody or nothing - that is answered properly in should a healthcare reception smell fresh, clean, woody or completely neutral.
What SOSA does not publish and this page will not invent: consumption rate, refill frequency, monthly running cost, machine lifespan, minimum order or installation lead time. Talk those through with your plan in hand on WhatsApp at +91 96192 18531. Bulk orders are welcome, custom label or logo on product is available, and bespoke composition is a real SOSA service discussed there rather than priced on a page - though the cheaper honest answer comes first, which is that one register held consistently across every site already is a signature, because consistency makes a signature and uniqueness does not.
The SOSA scenting range
SOSA sells two different systems and one of the commonest mistakes is mixing them up. Size by the connected air volume of the room you are actually scenting - which in a day-care hospital is almost always the entrance, reception, billing and attendant lounge alone - floor area multiplied by ceiling height gives cubic feet, and cubic feet divided by 35.3 gives cubic metres. A door that stays shut ends one volume and begins another.
| Machine | System | What it is for | Price |
|---|---|---|---|
| SOSA Boond | Ultrasonic · water-based | A small desk or corner unit for one enclosed room - runs the water-based Hotel Collection | ₹899 |
| SOSA Sukoon | Ultrasonic · water-based | A larger ultrasonic for a reception or consultation room - Hotel Collection from ₹299 | ₹1,899 |
| SOSA Megh | Ultrasonic · 6L tank | A large-tank ultrasonic for a bigger lounge that runs all day | ₹3,499 |
| SOSA Vaayu | Waterless cold-air nebulising | The commercial machine - approx 1000 m3 of connected air, Bluetooth app and timer, no water and no humidity | ₹11,999 |
| SOSA Aangan | HVAC nebulising | Ducted scenting for approximately 8,000 to 10,000 sq ft | ₹25,999 |
| SOSA Meenar | HVAC nebulising | Ducted scenting for approximately 12,000 to 18,000 sq ft | ₹38,500 |
Two systems, and they are not interchangeable. The ultrasonics - Boond, Sukoon and Megh - run the water-based Hotel Collection from ₹299. Vaayu and the HVAC machines run waterless nebulising oil; the ₹299 water-based bottle never goes into a Vaayu. SOSA blends are SOSA's own hotel-inspired interpretations and SOSA is independent and not affiliated with any hotel brand. A portion of every order supports girl-child education through Nanhi Kali.
- Vaayu ₹11,999 - waterless cold-air nebulising, approx 1000 m3 connected air, Bluetooth app and timer, 400ml tank, freestanding or wall / HVAC mount, DC 12V / 1A, 5W, mains powered, CE / RoHS / SGS.
- Aangan ₹25,999 for approximately 8,000 to 10,000 sq ft and Meenar ₹38,500 for approximately 12,000 to 18,000 sq ft - both ducted into HVAC.
- The ultrasonics - Boond ₹899, Sukoon ₹1,899, Megh ₹3,499 - run the water-based Hotel Collection from ₹299, with 100ml refills at ₹999.
- Not published, and therefore never stated on this page: consumption rate, refill frequency, monthly running cost, machine lifespan, installation lead time or any minimum order. Those go to WhatsApp +91 96192 18531.
Versailles
A day-care hospital is the most careful room I write about, and I want to be plain about why. Somebody walks in at seven in the morning to have a procedure. Their mother or their husband sits in your lounge for four hours with nothing to do but look at the walls and worry. And a few metres away, behind doors that should stay shut, there is a zone where none of this belongs at all.
So the answer here is not a stronger machine or a cleverer scent. It is a boundary. Entrance, reception, billing and the attendant lounge are the public half of your building and they are allowed to feel like somewhere that was thought about. Pre-op, procedure, recovery and everything clinical are the other half, and the honest answer for all of it is nothing. Not less. Nothing.
Two things I say to every facility that asks. Fragrance adds scent - it never subtracts one, so it cannot cover disinfectant, and a scent laid over disinfectant makes a third smell that reads worse than either. And the decision is not mine or yours alone: what is introduced into the air of a building with a surgical zone belongs to your clinical leads, your infection-control team and your engineers. I would rather lose the sale than have a page of mine used to argue past them.
Frequently asked questions
Facts verified September 2026: SOSA Vaayu ₹11,999 is a waterless cold-air nebulising diffuser rated for approximately 1000 m3 of connected air, with Bluetooth app and timer, a 400ml tank, freestanding or wall / HVAC mounting and a DC 12V / 1A, 5W mains supply. SOSA Aangan ₹25,999 covers approximately 8,000 to 10,000 sq ft and SOSA Meenar ₹38,500 approximately 12,000 to 18,000 sq ft, both ducted into HVAC. The ultrasonic machines - Boond ₹899, Sukoon ₹1,899 and Megh ₹3,499 - run the water-based Hotel Collection fragrance from ₹299, with 100ml refills at ₹999; that water-based bottle is not used in a Vaayu or an HVAC machine. Reed diffusers start at ₹749 and last roughly 6-10 weeks. A coverage rating assumes one connected body of air; scent does not travel through a closed door. Ambient scent research supports improved evaluations of a space and its service, longer dwell and stronger recall at moderate effect sizes - it does not support claims about bookings, fees or retention. Fragrance adds scent and does not remove, neutralise or purify odour, and no SOSA product makes any health, antibacterial or air-purifying claim. No SOSA product is a medical device, a clinical product, an infection-control product or an air-treatment device, and none is validated for use in a clinical environment. Nothing in this guide is clinical, infection-control or engineering advice: in a facility with a surgical or procedural zone, what may be introduced into the air is governed by the operator's own clinical leadership, infection-control policy and facilities engineering, and their decision overrides every recommendation here. SOSA blends are SOSA's own hotel-inspired interpretations; SOSA is independent and not affiliated with any hotel brand. Prices and availability are subject to change - see the live product pages.