A New Rhythm in Retirement

After a long career as Chief Scientist at CSIR-Central Road Research Institute in New Delhi, I retired in 2024 and settled in Bengaluru. I still do some intermittent professional work, but I wanted something that would bring simple joy to my days. The flute found me when I least expected it.

One afternoon I was scrolling through Instagram and came across a short flute piece by Harsh sir. It was simple, clear, and quietly beautiful. I had no musical background, but something in that melody touched me. I felt a small tug — a wish to try. That wish became a hobby, and then slowly it became more than that. My ambition now is to become a flutist under the able guidance of Harsh sir and other mentors in the Flute Gandharvas community.

Starting was like learning to ride a bicycle again. I remember those first sessions clearly. I could not make a clean sound. Even with a straight flute, I often produced only air. There were long stretches when notes would not come at all. I had studied complex problems in my career, but this felt different. It was basic and humbling. The fingers would fumble. My breath would leave me. I would lose the taal. I worried if I could ever succeed.

What kept me going was a kind of familiar method I had used in science: run after the problem with steady attention until you reach the tunnel's end. For the flute I turned that into three simple words — Practice; Practice; Practice. It sounds obvious, and it is obvious. Still, keeping to that practice, day after day, made the small things add up.

The Flute Gandharvas program helped more than I expected. It has a clear, structured course. Live classes with Harsh sir were always inspiring. He would demonstrate a phrase, break it down, and show how to move the fingers or shape the breath. Even when I could not get the sound right in class, watching the way he held the flute and shaped each note taught me a lot.

The community setup made a difference. There are recordings of the live classes available at any time, so I could go back and listen again. The method of uploading my practice videos and getting feedback from mentors was crucial. I could see my own mistakes, and the guidance pointed me to specific fixes. Small corrections — a different angle, a firmer finger, a softer breath — gradually changed things.

The hardest part was moving from a straight flute to a side flute. With the straight flute I had begun to make some progress. But holding the side flute changed everything. I had to relearn the angle, the embouchure, and how to close the holes completely. Some days I felt defeated. The angle made a big difference. I remember spending long minutes trying small adjustments until a clear note emerged. Even then, breath control was a struggle. I still work on breathing so I do not run out of air mid-phrase.

Concentration is another challenge. Playing requires attention to several things at once: the exact note, finger movement, keeping the taal, and when to breathe. If my mind slipped for a moment, the whole phrase would fall apart. It was frustrating. But I learned to break pieces down and practice them slowly. I learned to be patient with progress that came in tiny steps.

Those tiny steps turned into moments of real joy. One day I managed to play "Hum Honge Kamyab" on the straight flute. It was not perfect, but the melody came through with a steady tone. I felt a quiet satisfaction I had not expected. Later, after weeks of work on technique and angle, I played "Jana Gana Mana" on the side flute. That moment felt like a small ceremony — a reminder that practice changes things.

What kept me steady through the hard parts were three things. First, the structured learning and recordings which let me practice at my own pace. Second, the feedback loop of sending videos and receiving guidance. Third, a mindset I carried from my scientific career: be persistent, examine errors, and try different approaches until one works. That approach helped me solve problems in a musical way.

Age was another thought I had to confront. I had spent decades in a busy professional life. I often wondered if it was too late to start something new. The flute taught me otherwise. Passion and steady practice can lead to surprising progress, no matter the age. I learned that age is only a number; what matters is dedication and a willingness to keep trying.

The flute has given me more than new skills. It gave me a daily routine that I look forward to. It gave me small goals and small victories. It added a quiet purpose to the day that is different from professional achievement. I find myself listening differently now — to short phrases, to the way a note settles, to the silence between sounds. It makes ordinary moments feel fuller.

I also found joy in community. Harsh sir and the mentors have been patient and encouraging. The Flute Gandharvas group is full of people who started where I did — curious, a bit unsure, but willing to practice. That shared effort matters. It makes mistakes feel normal and progress feel shared.

If I were to speak to someone in the middle of this struggle, I would say keep going. Use the same curiosity you used in your work. Break things down. Practice slowly. Listen to recordings and compare them honestly. Accept that some days will feel like zero progress and that the next day might bring a small shift. Let the small shifts build.

I did not expect the flute to change my daily life as much as it has. I only expected a pleasant hobby. Instead, I found a new way to shape my time and a new language to express a quiet part of myself. The flute did not make me loud. It made me steady. It gave me something to return to, again and again.

I am still learning. I still make mistakes. I still feel a little breathless when I try to stretch a phrase. But I can hear progress, and that keeps me practicing. For anyone thinking of starting late, I will only say this: start with a single note, and keep at it.

— DR VASANT G HAVANAGI, Bengaluru