Consistency Over Intensity: My Journey with the Flute

I spend a lot of my life in front of a screen. As a software professional, my world is often defined by logic, code, and the fast-paced demands of the tech industry. For a long time, my life was also defined by a lot of movement. My family was based in Pune, but my office was in Hyderabad. This meant I was living a bit of a double life. I would spend two weeks in Hyderabad working, and then I would travel back to Pune to be with my family for the next two weeks.

When I was in Hyderabad, I had a lot of quiet time on my hands. After work ended, the evenings felt long. I was away from the familiar comforts of home and the daily routines of my family life. It was during one of those stretches in Hyderabad that I started feeling the itch to do something different. I didn’t just want to pass the time; I wanted to learn something new, something that had nothing to do with software or logic.

One evening, I was scrolling through YouTube and I came across a video by Harsh Sir. He was talking about how to learn the flute as an absolute beginner. There was something about the way he explained it—it felt accessible, like it was something I could actually do. I hadn’t played an instrument before, and I didn’t know the first thing about music theory or how to hold a flute, but that video triggered a real sense of curiosity in me. Before I could overthink it or talk myself out of it, I decided to start my journey with FluteGandharvas.

The beginning was a bit of a shock to the system. You see the flute and you think it’s just a piece of bamboo with holes in it, but then you try to make a sound and you realize how much control it actually requires. The foundation program I joined was very well-structured, which was lucky for me because I’m the kind of person who likes to see the steps ahead. We started with the straight flute transition and eventually moved to the side flute.

That transition is where things got real. Moving from a straight flute to a side flute changes everything—your posture, your grip, the way you breathe. It was a test of patience. There were days when I felt like my fingers wouldn't move the way I wanted them to, or my breath wasn't hitting the right spot.

In those moments, Harsh Sir’s guidance was what kept me from getting frustrated. He has this way of knowing exactly what challenges you’re facing at every specific step. It was like he could read my mind. He would offer these little bits of wisdom at exactly the right time. He didn't just teach me where to put my fingers; he taught me how to approach the instrument with the right mindset. Having a mentor who understands the struggle makes a world of difference. You don’t feel like you’re failing; you just feel like you’re on a path that someone else has walked before.

Because of my work schedule, I had to be very intentional about when I practiced. I quickly realized that if I waited until after work to pick up the flute, it probably wouldn't happen. My brain is usually tired after a long day of software problems, and the couch starts looking very inviting. So, I made a deal with myself. I decided to make it a point to practice every morning, right after I got up.

This change in routine shifted everything. Instead of waking up and immediately thinking about emails or deadlines, I woke up and thought about the flute. I started carrying my flute with me when I went for walks. I would find a quiet spot—maybe an open area or a small temple—and just play. I wasn’t playing for an audience. I was just playing for the sake of the sound and the environment.

I have to be honest: I am a slow learner. I didn’t pick things up overnight, and I wasn't trying to become a virtuoso in a month. I chose to walk at my own pace. I learned that consistency is far more important than intensity. It’s better to play for fifteen or twenty minutes every single morning than to try and practice for three hours once a week. That daily commitment is what kept me driving further. It became a habit, like brushing my teeth or drinking tea.

Something unexpected happened because of those morning sessions. I found that playing the flute first thing in the morning actually made my entire day better. There is a sense of contentment that comes from making music before the noise of the world starts. It centers me. Even if the rest of my day is stressful or the code I'm writing is full of bugs, I have that memory of the morning—the feel of the bamboo and the sound of the notes in the quiet air.

If I could speak to someone who is in the middle of that early struggle right now—the stage where your fingers ache or the notes sound airy—I would just tell them to keep showing up. It’s easy to get discouraged when you don’t see immediate progress, but the system works if you stick with it. I believed in the process, I followed the structure of the program, and I just kept going.

The flute hasn't just taught me music; it has taught me how to be okay with being a beginner. It has taught me the value of a slow, steady pace. My life still involves a lot of travel and a lot of software, but now, wherever I am—whether I’m in Pune or Hyderabad—I have my flute with me. It’s a constant.

I’m still learning, and I know there is a long road ahead. But I’m looking forward to that journey. I’m not in a rush to get to the end. I’m just happy to be walking the path, one morning at a time.

— Nikhil Sonthalia