Finding My Rhythm After Thirty Years

I have lived in Pune for a long time now, but my roots are in a small village called Manerajuri, in the Sangli district. I moved to the city back in 1992 to build a life as a mechanical engineer. Engineering is a profession of precision and logic. It requires a lot of focus, and for many years, my life was defined by my daily routine and the responsibilities of my career.

If you had met me back in my school days, you would have seen a boy who was always busy. I was the topper in every class. I loved participating in every activity and competition the school held. I was always chasing medals and trying to be the best at everything I touched. But amidst all that studying and competing, there was a small memory of a sound that never really left me.

When I was about eight or nine years old, I remember going to the local Melas—the village fairs. There is a specific atmosphere at those fairs, the smell of the food and the noise of the crowds, but what always caught my eye was the flute seller. He would stand there, surrounded by thin bamboo sticks, and play these beautiful songs that seemed to float over the noise of the fair. I was fascinated. I couldn't understand how a piece of wood could make such music.

My father saw how I looked at those flutes, and one day, he bought one for me. I remember the weight of it in my small hands. At the time, I had no idea about notes or fingerings. I just blew air into it. No real music came out, just the sound of rushing wind and the occasional squeak, but I didn't care. I was happy just to see that I could make a sound at all.

As I grew older, the flute was forgotten. Life became about exams, then about my degree, and then about my job in Pune. Decades passed. I would see flutists performing on TV shows, and that old attraction would stir up again. I would watch their fingers move and think, "I wish I could do that." But I was a busy man with a demanding job. I told myself I didn't have the time.

Everything changed in early 2024. I was scrolling through Instagram, just passing the time, when I saw an advertisement for a masterclass by Harsh Dave. Something about it felt different. I didn't just keep scrolling this time. I registered for the class and attended. During the session, I watched the presentation and listened to the explanation of how the online course worked. For the first time, I felt confident that I could actually learn this from home. I paid the fees, and they promised to send me a straight flute to get started.

When the flute arrived seven days later, that same excitement I felt as a nine-year-old boy came rushing back. I held it and tried to blow, but just like in my childhood, it wasn't right. I was just making noise.

The real journey began during the first Sunday session. That was when I started to understand that this wasn't going to happen by magic. I had to practice every single day just to get a clear "Sa-Re-Ga-Ma."

I have a son and a daughter-in-law who live in the UK. They are both musical—my son played the Casio as a child, and my daughter-in-law plays the guitar. Because they have ears for music, I decided to use them as my judges. Every time I practiced a piece, I would record a video and send it across the world to them. I wanted their feedback before I uploaded anything to my formal course portal.

I was very nervous about the "Play" section of my course. We were only allowed 30 video uploads to pass the Flute Foundation Course (FFC), and I was determined to get a 5-star rating on my submissions. I would wait for my kids to tell me the notes were clear. Only when they were satisfied would I hit the upload button.

Learning the Alankars—the musical exercises—was very hard at the beginning. There were days when my fingers felt stiff and the notes felt out of reach. But I kept hearing my mentors' voices in my head: "Practice is the only solution to get perfection." So, I practiced.

The biggest challenge came when I moved from the straight flute to the side-blown flute. When the side flute arrived, I thought I knew what I was doing. But when I tried to play it, all my notes disappeared. It was just the sound of air again. It felt like I was back at square one. However, in the next class, the teacher showed us the proper posture and how to hold our lips. Slowly, the sound returned.

My daily routine has changed now. After I come home from my work as an engineer, I set aside at least 45 minutes for my flute. It is my time. My wife has been my biggest support throughout this. At first, she was just watching me struggle, but now she sits and enjoys the music while I practice. It has become a peaceful part of our home.

A major turning point for me was a student meet-up we had in Pune. There were over a hundred flute students there. Seeing so many people, all at different stages of their journey, was incredible. We did a workshop together, and that experience boosted my confidence more than I can describe. I realized I wasn't just a man blowing into a tube in his living room; I was part of a huge community of people all trying to create something beautiful.

Today, I received my FFC certificate. Looking at it, I felt a thrill of joy that reminded me of those medals I used to win in school. But this feels different. It isn’t about being better than anyone else; it’s about the fact that I didn't give up.

People ask me why I started this so late in life. What I tell them is that the flute has given me things I didn't expect. As an engineer, my mind is always working, always solving problems. The flute telah helped reduce my stress. I sleep better now. I feel more energetic and generally much happier.

If you are struggling with something new, whether it is the flute or anything else, just stay with it. The musical world is huge, and it doesn't matter when you enter it. You can learn at any stage of your life. You just have to be willing to breathe through the moments when only air comes out, knowing that eventually, the music will follow.

— Dilip Sutar Pune, Maharashtra