A pause

I once read a book by a fairly established Indian writer, for some reason, the name of the book escapes me but I was fascinated by the description of music that filled the pages. The book was a work of fiction and the central character was a famous classical Indian music singer. The richness of the language that described the beauty of the ragas and the constant struggle of the artist to not overpower but grasp the intricacies of the notes were beautifully described. Somewhere it was mentioned that just as the notes and words made up the substance of the song, it was the pause between the notes that made it melodious.

I am reminded of the significance of a pause as I spend the last few days of 2010 in the serene surroundings of Rishi Valley. Located near the town of Madanapally in Andhra Pradesh, this institution founded by thinker, J. Krishnamurti, is well known for its residential school. There is a study centre here where teachings of the founder are available for study.

Right now, school is in progress. We join the students for meals but are free to wander around the campus. There is no automobile or sound pollution, cellphones are prohibited, except in the guesthouse, and internet is limited. There is no television. The mornings bring in the sun with the sounds of birds chirping closeby. The days are spent in quiet introspection although I still spend a few hours catching up on work. The nights are chilly, with clear starry nights, unobscured by smog. We seem to have many more hours at our disposal in the evenings since we don't have to give them up to the TV god.

It seems that this pause is essential, to mark the end of the year, to enable the beginning of another. The slower pace of life punctuates the stream of activity that forms the rest of the year and shines light on the melody that is around us.