Early morning as I glanced through the newspaper, the headline   “ Police takes Al-Quaeda Threats Seriously” caught my attention and I realised that things in our nation are turning worse from bad. We have grown so accustomed to the acts of terrorism happening around us that it doesn’t hit us with an immediate impact anymore. But as I contemplate on the situation, I can feel the underlying irony behind the high sounding words like liberty, freedom and independence. 

 Here we are on the eve of celebrating the 60^th anniversary of Indian independence and the same question bothers me very often. Are we actually liberated?   We might be free from the yoke of British rule today but the sense of true freedom still remains incomplete .

On my way to office today, I could feel the tension everywhere. The security checking is getting tighter at all places and the common people are becoming apprehensive and overtly cautious. I have started to get phone calls from family and friends, not to move out of my room tomorrow as its 15^th of August and here lies the paradox of the situation. On one hand we are celebrating our Independence Day and on the other hand we don’t even feel free enough to move out in the open air.‘ You never know what might happen where’ as my mom’s words of caution goes!    

Let me write about an interesting incident that happened with my colleague today. On his way to office by the Delhi Metro, he dropped his lunch box somewhere near Rajiv Chowk metro station. Unmindful of the fact as he was, we had a hearty laugh about the disconcerting situation that his ‘innocent’ lunch box must have created at the metro station specially one day ahead of Independence Day. 

 But on a serious note, it really pains to think that this is the true colour of the spirit of independence that we celebrate on August 15 every year!         

  There are some moments in life when u can’t really figure out what’s happening to your life, which direction is it heading. But then, there’s one way you can find out if you are at peace with yourself and your life. It needs some introspection of every aspect of it. The more you question yourself, the more you would learn about your inner being.

It feels strange that everyday brings along something new, expected or unexpected and the best way to be happy is by accepting life with all that it brings along. It difficult to stand tall when trials and tribulations come your way, but some amount of perseverance helps in the long run. As it is evident that after every sunset and a nightlong of darkness, the sun shines bright again.      

Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma’s name is synonymous with santoor. And I got an opportunity to celebrate the musical odyssey of this great legend at Siri Fort Auditorium one misty winter evening last year. Though I don’t remember the date, the pure ecstasy of his soul stirring music is still vivid in my mind.

The celebrated maestro of Hindustani classical music weaved magic at the auditorium by his spellbinding performance of the folk-based Raga Pahadi on the santoor.

I happened to take his interview for the newspaper I was working for at that time and it was a great experience for me not only to hear him live but also being able to have a first hand insight to his personality and life.

Starting his musical saga when he was just five years old, he is a complete musician with training in vocal music, tabla and other instruments.

His guru was father Uma Dutt Sharma, a renowned vocalist, disciple of Bade Ramdasji of the Banaras gharana and Raj Pandit at the court of the Maharaja Pratap Singh of Jammu & Kashmir.

 “He brought out santoor out of the valley of Kashmir and gave it a place in the classical music scenario. It is because of his inspiration that I decided to concentrate on playing the santoor,” Shiv Kumar Sharma said.

Shiv Kumar Sharma added the finishing touch to his father’s endeavour and transformed the folk instrument into a full-fledged solo concert instrument in Indian classical music.

“It was called shata-tantri veena in the earlier times or the veena of 100 strings. It was an accompaniment to a specific type of singing called Sufiana Mausiqui. With the Persian influence, it got its present name santoor,” he explained.

Similar musical instruments are found in several parts of Europe and Central Asia with different names such as Santoori in Greece, YangChin in China, Hack Bret in Germany and Symbelon in Hungary.

“It might have traveled with the gypsies to these countries,” added Sharma.

Initiallty, santoor was not accepted as a classical musical instrument in India but with the passage of time and initiative of this great legend, it reached its present place of pride.

Though it might not be as popular as it should have been, I feel that this is what you call music and melody for the soul.   

Shall I fall in love???

I question the void,

It echoes back,

 And asks me the same.

I am still unnerved,

But, I do long for joy,

Yearn for a shelter.

And wait forThose treasured moments,

When you smile

Without a reason.I

 am in search for…

A face that lasts forever,

A dream that grows longer

And a bond that becomes stronger.

Don’t I have enough reasons???

But,the fear lingers around,

And, I find myself fettered,

To my own questions.  

I cringe, wither and fade, 

My thoughts are perturbed,

My dreams are crippled,

A surge of fear pervades,

And I crumple under my life. 

 A dirge that is sung,

A farce that is on,

I pay homage to my past,

And obliterate my memories,

 Sometimes snivelling, sometimes weeping. 

 But there’s a faint glow, 

I see that within,

It glitters and then dims, 

And yet, lures me,

Perhaps, I find my destiny in it!!!!!!!!

I have a story, forever untold,

I cradle it everyday,

With my heart’s desire, Though it hurts within.

As the light fades

And the day ends,

It is enriched further.

But my tired heart rests.

Deep down, it cries and sighs,

Pines to sneak beyond the closed doors,

But, it retires till eternity,

Alone, sinned and torn for life!!!

I talk of the impending storm,

Yet I want to peep out,

 Perhaps, it’s just a fleeting moment,

 I tilt my head towards the horizon,

 And the dark clouds dampen my soul;

 It is always an uncertainty, 

 Still, I wish to move out, 

Perhaps, it’s an illusion again. 

It’s a maddening journey,

I call it “life”,

It quivers, bothers and deters,

A majestic blow it serves,

Still it entices and allures,

Beckons me to follow,

And I move on. 

 I refuse to retreat,

I cling on to the shadow

I yearn for the unseen,

I live for my tomorrow