Late start, real life—beyond office walls, I finally found me.

Living in a city like Mumbai, life can easily become a series of loops. For the last twenty-five years, my life has been defined by a very specific, disciplined, and—if I’m being honest—monotonous routine. I work in the Research and Analytics Department of a private bank, managing IT projects. It is a job that requires a lot of focus, a lot of data, and a lot of time. Usually, about twelve hours of my day are swallowed up by the office.

To keep myself going, I’ve always been a bit of a stickler for discipline. I believe in the "early to bed, early to rise" philosophy. My mornings are strictly for physical health. Before the sun is fully up, I’m usually out running or at the pool swimming. It kept me fit, but even with the exercise, there was a sense that something was missing. I was healthy, and I was productive, but I wasn’t really "occupied" by anything that touched my soul.

For as long as I can remember, learning the flute was on my bucket list. It sat there for years, right at the bottom, buried under work deadlines, family commitments, and the exhaustion of the daily grind. I would tell myself, "Maybe next year," or "When this project is over, I’ll look into it." But in a city like this, the work never really ends. You just get older while your dreams stay parked in the back of your mind.

Then, one evening, I was scrolling through YouTube shorts when I came across a video of Harsh Dave sir. He was talking about learning the flute through a systematic, logical approach. I’m an IT project manager; I live for systems and logic. Seeing someone break down an instrument that seemed so ethereal and difficult into a clear, manageable path hit me hard. I remember sitting there in my chair and feeling a sudden spark of frustration with my own excuses. I told myself, "Enough is enough. No more moving this down the list." I clicked the link and enrolled in the foundation course right then and there.

The beginning was tough, but I expected that. I had to learn how to hold the flute and how to produce a clean sound. With the right guidance, I actually started making progress. I moved from the straight flute to the side flute, and I was feeling quite proud of myself. But then, I hit a wall. That wall was 'Taal'—the rhythm.

In my job, I can manage complex data, but trying to coordinate my fingers with a specific rhythmic cycle felt impossible. I couldn’t play the basic notes or patterns (alankaras) while keeping time. I struggled through seven weeks of training, but I felt like a fraud. I was going through the motions, but I didn't believe I would ever actually "get" it. The frustration grew so heavy that I just stopped. I put my flute away in a drawer and didn't touch it for nearly eight months. I told myself that maybe I just wasn't musical.

During those months away, I felt a bit of a void. My routine went back to being just work and the gym. One day, I found myself back on the Flute Gandharvas website. I saw videos of other students—people who had started at the same time as me—playing smoothly and confidently. Seeing their progress did something to me. It wasn't jealousy; it was inspiration. I realized that the only difference between us was that they hadn't quit.

I decided to start fresh from the very beginning. I swallowed my pride and went back to the basics. Within two weeks of this new, determined start, I cleared all my foundation assignments. When I joined the Level 0 live sessions, everything changed. Harsh sir emphasized the importance of long notes and repetitive patterns. He showed us that it wasn't about "talent" as much as it was about the discipline of practice. Since I already had discipline in my life through my running and swimming, I realized I could apply that same "marathon" mindset to the flute. I knew then that with the right Guru, I could overcome any hurdle.

The most surprising part of this journey hasn't been the music itself, but how it changed my personality. I used to be quite high-strung. When things went wrong at the bank or a project hit a snag, I would panic. My heart would race, and I’d get stressed out. Now, when the pressure mounts at work, I react differently. I’ve become much more mellow. Sometimes, in the middle of a tense meeting, I’ll find my fingers moving silently on the desk as if I’m playing notes on the flute. It grounds me. If I’m really feeling the pressure, I’ll take a break and listen to a recording of my teacher playing. It diverts my attention just enough to clear my head, and I come back to the problem feeling confident and calm.

Today, the flute is not just a hobby; it is a pillar of my life. My entire daily routine now revolves around it. No matter how tired I am when I get home from the office, I make time for my riyaz (practice). That hour or two with the flute actually gives me more energy than it takes. It has taught me how to tackle challenges in a systematic way—break it down, practice the difficult parts, and keep the rhythm.

I still have one big challenge, though. Whenever I try to play in front of someone else, I get incredibly anxious. My hands shake a little, and I lose my concentration. But I’m not discouraged. Just like I overcame the struggle with Taal, I know I will overcome this too.

Reflecting on where I started, I realize that I used to feel like a machine just going through the motions of a twenty-five-year routine. Now, when I hold my flute, I feel complete. If I miss a day of practice because of work, I feel a genuine sense of loss—like I forgot to eat or sleep. The flute has given a rhythmic heart to my disciplined life, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I am moving toward something beautiful every single day.

— Tarun Bangera Mumbai, India