On raag sangeet, healing, and the spiritual path that kept me alive
Music has been an eternal part of my life.
No matter what my day, what my life looks like — you will find music in that moment. I connect with music like nothing else. Something, apart from few other things, music has kept me alive. And maybe, music has kept me rooted to who I am.
The Language of Raag
Classical music — or as my guru says, Raag Sangeet — plays the most important role in my life.
It is not just sound. It is not just notes arranged in a certain way. It is affection towards swars. Affection towards raag. Then the emotion it creates. The impact it has on you. The way it shapes you.
Raag Sangeet makes you aware. It makes you rethink. I guess it makes you a little more humble and sensible about yourself and others eventually. You start looking at the musical world in a much broader aspect. You understand that every note has a purpose. Every swar has a place. Every raag has a story.
And in understanding that, you understand something about life itself.
The Rabbit Hole
I recently started learning sitar.
Here is the strange thing: the swars, the raag were the same as what I learned during my classical music lessons. The foundation was identical. The theory was the same.
However, the impact was completely different.
It is like a rabbit hole. Once you enter, on every level you will discover something new and interesting. The sitar is not just an instrument. It is a spiritual companion. It is a way of communicating with something beyond yourself. It is a practice that teaches you, every single day, that there is always more to learn. Always deeper to go.
The Guru Who Changes You Unknowingly
I started learning sitar from Vidur Mahajan — one of the most inspirational people, a passionate musician and sitarist.
He has made an impact on my life that I did not even know was happening. Unknowingly, he has become not just my teacher but someone who has shown me what devotion to an art form looks like. What surrender to music means. What it means to be completely committed to something beyond yourself.
I will definitely need another article to write about what impact he made in my life. Because this essay is about music. But his role in that music, his presence in that journey — that deserves its own space, its own story.
For now, I will say this: he showed me that music is not something you do. It is something you become.
The Morning Raag That Saved Me
A few days ago in our class, he played one of the morning raag. And I was mesmerised.
A little bit of context: that day I was dealing with a lot mentally. I was panicking because of a few things. Normally, whenever I panic, I listen to music, take deep breaths. But though I was in class, I was panicking and I was not knowing why.
The panic was there. The anxiety was there. The chaos in my mind was overwhelming. I was sitting in class, trying to hold it together, trying not to fall apart in front of everyone.
And then, randomly, sir played that raag.
And it changed me inside out.
The chaos inside me calmed. The hustle that my mind was suffering ended there. And I felt peace. My panic began to dissolve as if it had never happened. And that is the magic of Sangeet. That is the magic of music and sitar.
In that one moment, I understood something I had always known but never truly felt: music is not entertainment. Music is medicine. Music is prayer. Music is the direct line to something divine.
Raag As Rasa
Another great experience I had was when I listened to him live — not in class, but at one of the NGO events. Where he played Ahir Bhairav and Yaman raag.
Two raags from different moods, different ways, created different impacts.
Raag Ahir Bhairav induces the Shanta rasa — peace. A profound sense of inner quiet. An experience that makes you feel how grateful you are that you are listening to this beautiful creation. It is the raag of early morning, of the sun rising, of the world waking up. It carries within it the peace of that moment.
And then Yaman. A raag of a different energy. A raag that speaks differently. That creates a different kind of beauty.
Listening to both, one after the other, was like experiencing two different universes. Two different ways of being. And in experiencing both, I understood something deeper about music, about raag, about the way sound can shape consciousness itself.
Music As Healing
Music gave me healing.
Not the kind of healing that comes from time or distance or forgetting. But the kind of healing that comes from being truly seen. From having something witness your pain and transform it into beauty. From having a language that your pain understands.
When I was panicking, words could not help. Logic could not help. Analysis could not help. But music could. Because music speaks the language of the soul. It understands what the mind cannot explain.
Music has healed me in ways that nothing else could. It has been there on the days when people were not. It has been the constant when everything else was changing. It has been the one thing that never left.
Music As Spiritual Path
Music is not just healing. Music is a spiritual path.
In the practice of raag sangeet, in the learning of sitar, in the daily commitment to understanding music more deeply — I am on a spiritual journey. I am not just learning an instrument. I am learning about discipline, about surrender, about the nature of beauty, about connection to something beyond myself.
Every time I practice, I am meditating. Every time I learn a new raag, I am discovering a new way to experience consciousness. Every time I sit with the sitar, I am sitting in prayer.
This is what my guru has shown me. That music is not separate from spirituality. That music is spirituality. That the practice of music is the practice of touching the divine.
Music As Truest Identity
But most importantly, music is my truest identity. It is not what I do. It is who I am. When everything else falls away — when I lose my job, when I lose my relationships, when I lose my sense of who I am — music remains. Because music is not something external. It is woven into my being.
I am someone who hears music everywhere. In the rustle of leaves. In the sound of rain. In the silence between words. I am someone who understands the world through raag. Who processes emotions through swars. Who communicates with the divine through the sitar.
This is my truest identity. Not my occupation. Not my relationships. Not my achievements. But this: I am a person who loves music. Who is devoted to music. Who understands that music is the closest thing to prayer.
What Music Continues to Give
Music gave me life when I had lost mine. Music gave me peace when I was chaos. Music gave me purpose when I had none. Music gave me a spiritual path when I was lost in the darkness.
And it continues to give. Every day. In every practice. In every raag. In every note that I play and every note that I listen to.
Music is healing. Music is spiritual path. Music is my truest identity.
And I am grateful. Grateful to the swars. Grateful to the raag. Grateful to the sitar. Grateful to Vidur Mahajan who showed me what devotion looks like. Grateful to every moment that I get to sit with this practice. Because through music, I have found myself. Through music, I have found peace. Through music, I have found the divine.
Author’s Note: Music is not something you listen to. Music is something that listens to you. It hears your pain, your joy, your deepest self. And in hearing you completely, it heals you completely.
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