Finding Calm in the Sound of a Flute

I have lived in Tirupur, Tamil Nadu, for a long time now. Originally, I am from Kerala, but this busy city has become my home. For years, my life has revolved around our family business. We are garment exporters, which sounds very interesting to people on the outside, but it is actually a whirlwind of constant pressure. Every single day, without fail, I headed to the office to face a mountain of work.

My world was made of fabrics, colors, designs, and production schedules. My job was to chase after the right materials, match colors perfectly, check the fitting of new styles, and answer a never-ending stream of emails. Between the meetings and the production deadlines, I was always on my toes. It was fast-paced, but it was also very repetitive. After doing it for many years, the weight of it all started to feel heavy on me. I felt like I was running a race that had no finish line.

I didn't really have anyone to talk to about how I felt. I just kept pushing through, but inside, I was tired. I started having this recurring thought that I just wanted to run away from it all. I wanted to go somewhere where there was no noise, no rush, and no emails. I just wanted silence. I used to imagine myself in a river, being washed away by a gushing current, struggling to keep my head above the water. That was how my life felt—like I was drowning in the busyness.

One morning, I was sitting on my bed, scrolling through my phone. I was feeling particularly stuck that day. I was actually thinking about running away to Varanasi, a place where I thought I could get lost and find some peace. While I was lost in those thoughts, a video from Flute Gandharvas popped up on my screen. I stopped and listened. Something about the sound hit me deep inside.

I have always loved Krishna, and in that moment, I felt like this was his playful way of bringing me back to life. It was as if that image of me drowning in the river changed. I saw myself being washed toward the bank, and standing there was Krishna. He had a sweet smile and sparkling eyes, and he was holding out a flute to me. I felt a surge of divine love and a total sense of surrender. I reached out, took the flute, and I have never looked back since.

When I started learning, many people asked me if I struggled. To be honest, I didn’t feel a struggle in the way most people do. Every moment I spent with the flute filled me with a feeling I can’t quite put into words. It was like finding a secret room in my own house where everything was quiet and beautiful. While "Riyaz"—the formal practice—takes discipline and focus, playing the flute just for myself became my source of total bliss.

However, the real change wasn't just in how I played, but in who I was becoming. Before the flute, I was always angry. I think the stress of the garment business and the constant "chasing" of production goals made me lose my temper easily. I was reactive and tense. But as I kept playing, that anger just started to disappear. I didn't have to fight it; it just wasn't there anymore. I became calm. I finally found that "space" around me that I had been longing for during those stressful years in the office.

I remember one specific day when I realized something major had shifted. I was practicing a song, and suddenly I noticed that I wasn't thinking about where to put my fingers anymore. They were just moving over the holes as if they had a mind of their own. They knew exactly where to be. It amazed me so much that I decided to close my eyes. I tried to play a hymn that we sing in church, something very close to my heart. I played the entire thing perfectly, without a single hesitation. In that moment of darkness behind my closed eyes, I felt a light. Something had clicked. I wasn't just blowing air into a wooden pipe; I was expressing something from inside my soul.

Nowadays, my life at the garment factory is still busy. The emails still come in, the colors still need matching, and the fabrics still need to be chased. But my reactions are completely different. I don’t feel down or worried anymore. I don't get angry with people or things when they go wrong. There is a shift inside me that allows me to feel time as it passes by, rather than feeling like I’m being crushed by it. I often tell people that life right now feels like tasting and relishing a wonderful dessert. I am present for it. I am enjoying the sweetness of it.

Holding the flute today feels so different from that first day. On the first day, I felt like a nervous bride on her wedding day. I was scared, hesitant, and very anxious. I was worried I wouldn't be able to do it or that I wasn't good enough. But now, when I take the flute in my hands, I feel completely comfortable. It doesn't feel like an object I am holding; it feels like a part of my own body. I feel complete when it is with me.

I still see that image of Krishna holding out the flute to me whenever I play. It is a picture I can’t get out of my mind, and I don’t want to. It reminds me that I didn’t just pick up a musical instrument; I picked up a new way of living. I am the same person I was, working in the same business in Tirupur, but my heart is much lighter. The flute saved me from the noise and gave me the silence I was looking for, right in the middle of my busy life.

— Philomena, Tirupur