An Unexpected Rhythm

Before the bansuri, I was always moving. My hobbies were almost entirely outdoors: cricket, football, hiking, mountain biking, and running. A good weekend meant spending the whole day playing a game or exploring somewhere new. I had never found an indoor hobby that could make me sit still and simply enjoy the moment.

Becoming a father changed how I thought about my time. My wife reminded me that I could not disappear for an entire Saturday or Sunday anymore. I needed to be home and present with my son, but I still wanted something meaningful for myself. Reading did not hold my attention for long. Then I remembered an old bansuri a friend had given me and thought, why not try this? I began with YouTube videos, struggled, and nearly gave up. Then I found Harsh Sir’s video on ten simple bansuri songs, followed by an Instagram announcement for a webinar. I signed up on a whim, and that decision brought me here.

At first, even producing clear notes felt unpredictable. I could play a note or phrase beautifully once, only for it to disappear the next time. I practiced mostly on weekends, without understanding where the practice was leading. The notes were unclear, progress felt uncertain, and I seriously considered moving on to something else.

Phase 2 changed everything. Learning about octaves revealed a completely different side of the instrument. When I discovered the lower octave, something clicked. I could play lower Sa, Ni, Dha, and Pa repeatedly for ten minutes and still enjoy their sound. Then, while playing alankars with teentaal, I felt my fingers begin to move naturally with the rhythm. I was no longer thinking about every movement; my hands and the bansuri seemed to work together. That was my eureka moment. Practice stopped being a weekend task and became something I wanted every day.

The Bansuri taught me that I could enjoy being still. I became more patient with repetition and more comfortable being a beginner. Instead of feeling defeated when something did not work, I began noticing small improvements: a cleaner note, a smoother transition, a steadier phrase. My weekends did not disappear; they simply changed shape. I could remain at home with my family, spend a short while playing, and return feeling refreshed.

Today, the Bansuri is more than an instrument or hobby. It is my me time—a reminder that fulfillment does not always require going somewhere, achieving something, or constantly moving. Completing my FFC feels special not because I have mastered it, but because I almost gave up before I truly began. Now I no longer ask whether I can play. I look forward to discovering where the Bansuri will take me next.