The Sun and the Black Hole

Art, and its artists, take on their own character — true across every art form. The person is always separate from his art. But the ones who dissolve their personality into their art, so that the way they live also reflects what they create — that's a true artist right there.

I haven't been able to achieve that, because I don't think I have knowledge considerable enough to call myself an artist. I'm still learning, still trying to gain the confidence to use that word for myself.

Being in this art form, in this community, I've met a lot of people and observed their behavior, and I must say — not everyone who excels in their art is a human being capable of the honesty and warmth that their art carries. Being an outsider to these systems and everything that comes with them, I had this notion that every artist is a good man or woman — honest, lovable, someone who brings warmth to their family. But being involved, I was shocked to find that this isn't the case.

People who inherited this art from their ancestors, as a business passed down through generations to carry the legacy forward — they don't carry themselves the way an artist should. Art is the most heartwarming, soulful community of people, and at the same time, the darkest. The sun and the black hole, in the same place.

My notion of artists, and of art itself, has changed a lot because of this. This industry isn't easy, and I've come to believe no one should try to form a fully trusting bond with anyone in it. Everyone is, in some way, selfish — it's give and take. No one will make you better than themselves.

The most jealous people I've met are artists — jealous of every other artist around them- turns out talent doesn't exempt you from being human. Being an artist myself, I'm trying to understand that. I had never once separated the artist from the art. But I think sometimes I should — even if it feels like a betrayal of who I am, like I'm drifting from my own beliefs.

The people who gave me this realization are people I looked up to, people I took care of, as I should have. I don't want to get involved in any of it, and I don't want it to disrupt what I believe — but I also don't want to run away from reality.

Starstruck, Despite Myself

I think I forgot to mention the time I met Hariharan ji — the ghazal maestro of our time.

I genuinely didn't think I'd be that starstruck - But I was wrong.

It happened in February. Hariharan ji had an entire world launching that day — a book, an album, and a ghazal show, all on one single evening. My ma'am was in talks with him for her PhD interview on Ustad Ghulam Mustafa Khan Sahab — who was Hari ji's ustad, and also my guruji's nana. That's the thing about these gharanas — the threads run deep, and they connect people across generations in the most beautiful ways.

So sir and ma'am were invited to the event. Two days before, while the three of us were eating out, sir finished talking to ma'am, turned to me, and casually said he was giving me a birthday present — he was taking me along to meet Hariharan ji.

The day came. We went. We were called into the green room where he was mid-shoot, recording a background report for the upcoming launches. We waited. And then, when he wrapped his shot, he turned around — warm, present, genuinely happy to see sir and ma'am.

I took his blessings. And then I just... stood there. Watching. Taking in the aura of the man. There's no other word for it — aura. It was my first time being in the presence of a legend of that scale, and all my confident "I won't be that astonished" energy dissolved the moment I was actually in that room.

It was quiet, brief and nice. The kind of moment that doesn't announce itself as a memory — but becomes one anyway.

Untempled

Artists practicing any form of art are, to me, the truest followers of God — the Creator. Because one thing we know for certain is that everything we see, touch, feel, or hear was created by someone or something. And human beings being capable of creating something of their own feels like the purest form of worship. At least, that is what I choose to believe.

And what feels strange to me is that in India — a country filled with the temples, rituals, music, dance, sculptures, and spirituality — art and artists are still often disrespected. The same people who question an artist’s worth will later listen to music to heal themselves, pray before handmade idols, celebrate through dance, wear handcrafted culture, and emotionally survive because of art.

The contradiction is astonishing.

Art is one of the only things that truly connects human beings to themselves. To their inner world. To their god. The process of creating art is introspection itself. And maybe that is why art has always been controlled, diluted, or looked down upon by powerful systems — because self-aware people are difficult to control.

That is also why most artists are rebellious. Not because they hate society, but because they understand and feel things at a depth most people never allow themselves to reach.

As per my belief, there is only one true god — frequency. Everything exists on vibration. Every sound, every emotion, every atom, every living being. Whether you call it energy, frequency, resonance, or string theory, existence itself feels musical in nature.

And when you become internally aligned with that vibration, you stop searching for god outside yourself. You realize the connection was always within you.

You are the angel.
You are the creator.
You are the god you were searching for.

सा ही रब है,
रे है दाता।

गा से सब है,
म से माता।

प को प्यारा,
ध का धागा।

नि क्या जाने,
सा का साझा।



Untempled :

The person who walked out of the unspoken agreement — the one that says God is out there, God is above you, God must be approached through the right building, the right priest, the right ritual, the right language, the right caste, the right hour, the right offering — not in anger, not in atheism, but in a deeper kind of faith, one that no institution can contain or validate. The agreement that says you are a seeker. Always a seeker. Never the source.