Finding my soul notes

Growing up in the constant hum of Mumbai, you learn to find your own rhythm amidst the noise. I spent most of my life navigating the busy streets of this city, first as a young student and later as a professional in the pharmaceutical industry. My life has always been a series of shifts balancing a career with the responsibilities of a home, moving between roles, and always trying to be there for my family. For a long time, my days were defined by the needs of others. I worked hard, but I eventually left my job to focus on fulfilling my responsibilities as a mother and wife. Also took up some work online whenever possible but it never stopped me from being a student.I have been a student all my life.I have this restless need to learn, a drive to keep growing that didn’t stop just because I had children or because my job title changed. But beneath all those activities and duties, there was always a soundtrack playing in the background of my mind. It started with my father. I can still picture him coming home from a long, exhausting day of work. The first thing he would do was turn on the radio. He’d sit there sometimes humming along to old film songs. It was his way of breathing again, his way of letting the stress of the world melt away. Slowly, without even realizing it, my siblings and I started doing the same. Music was part of the air we breathed. We didn’t think about "learning" it back then. It was just something that lived with us, a quiet comfort in the corner of the room.

As I grew older, I found expression through kuchipudi and then Odissi dance. I love the movement, the storytelling, and the discipline of classical dance. It has been a constant in my life for years. But there was always a small, quiet yearning in the back of my mind ,a wish to hold an instrument and make the music myself, rather than just moving to it. I didn’t want to just pick up anything, though. I wanted a connection. I wanted a teacher who could truly guide me.

One day, while I was scrolling through Facebook, I stumbled upon a photo of a teacher holding a flute. There was something about the way he held it, and something about the instrument itself, that just stopped me. I have always found the sound of the flute enchanting. It has a way of reaching into places that words can’t quite touch. I thought to myself, I need to give it a try... It felt like the right time to answer that old yearning.

It hasn’t always been an easy path. My life has been full of interruptions. I’ve had to give up jobs because we were shifting cities, or because my kids needed me home, or because the balance of life just tipped over. It’s hard to stay consistent when your environment is always changing. Between traveling, photography, and my dance practice, adding an instrument was a lot to carry. But the yearning to learn the flute was greater.I’ve had moments where the frustration of not getting the right note or the lack of time made me little down. However dance had taught me that classical interests cannot be just "hobbies." They are the things that requires lots of dedication and also they keep me happy. They are the things that belong only to me. So, I pushed through the initial struggle of learning how to breathe and hold the posture.

I remember very clearly the first day I actually held my own flute. It was a happy and powerful moment. Usually, when you start something new, you feel like a stranger to it. But something in my head said, "This is going to be with you for your lifetime." It felt like a permanent click, like a key turning in a lock.

Since I started playing, I’ve noticed a change, the flute has taught me a special kind of patience. You cannot rush a flute. You cannot force the sound to be beautiful before it is ready. This has bled into my daily life. I find myself being more understanding with the people around me.

I’ve also found a wonderful sense of community through this journey. Interacting with other flute players has shown me a different side of people. There is so much help available, and so much genuine joy in seeing each other grow. It makes the world feel a little smaller and a lot kinder.

When I look at my flute today, I see it differently than I did in the beginning.

I still love my classical dance, but I am a realist. I know that as the years go by, my body might not be strong enough to handle the physical demands of Odissi. There might come a day when my legs are too tired or my joints too stiff to dance the way I want to.The flute is different. It is an instrument of the breath and the heart. I realize now that I can be eighty years old, sitting quietly in a chair, and I can still play. It doesn’t require me to leap or spin; it only asks me to breathe.

I know now that I can play this until my very last breath. It is a companion that won't retire, won't require me to move cities, and won't demand more than I can give. It’s finally the one thing that stays.

— Beena MadanMohan