How Music Became Home

Have you ever felt drawn to something without knowing why?

Not because someone told you to.
Not because you planned it.
But because something inside you quietly responded to it?
That is how music happened to me.
I was six.

Ironically, my journey into the arts did not begin with music. It began with Bharatanatyam. My parents enrolled me in dance classes hoping I would connect with it deeply. But somewhere between rhythm and movement, they noticed something else.

I was listening more than I was dancing. I was singing more than I even realized. And that small observation changed my life. I was listening more than I was dancing. I was singing more than I even realized. And that small observation changed my life.

Music did not become my world overnight. In fact, my journey was far from perfect. There were interruptions. Pauses. Long gaps. Moments where life pulled me away from learning. I learned Carnatic music for several years, explored Hindustani music for a while, and even spent time learning the veena. Sometimes I wondered if those discontinuities meant I was losing touch with music. But looking back now, I realize something beautiful:

Music never left me… even during the phases I thought I had left it.

The stage slowly became another teacher in my life. Concerts. Devotional programs. Temple singing. Orchestras. Playback opportunities. Hospital performances. Every space felt different. Some gave applause.Some gave silence.Some gave tears. And strangely… the quieter moments stayed with me the longest.

There came a point in my life when I began chanting Vishnu Sahasranamam fluently and effortlessly. I still cannot fully explain that feeling. It did not feel rehearsed.It felt remembered. And when I slowly began teaching others, something inside me shifted even more deeply. People would tell me: "Your voice gives us goosebumps.""It feels divine.""Listening to this brings peace." Those words stayed with me. Not because they praised me.But because they made me realize that music was doing something beyond me. Maybe my voice was never meant only for performance.Maybe it was meant for connection.

To me, music and spirituality are inseparable. Not in a rigid or ritualistic way.But in the most human way possible. Music connects. It connects people to memories.To emotions.To silence.To devotion.And sometimes… to God. There are moments while singing where I stop feeling conscious of myself completely. It no longer feels like I am “performing.” I simply feel present. And honestly? Those are the moments I cherish the most.

Teaching became another unexpected blessing. What started small slowly grew into teaching over 3500 students across different age groups—including visually impaired students through specially adapted methods and materials. That experience humbled me in ways I cannot describe. Because in teaching others, I ended up learning far more about patience, sincerity, gratitude, and humanity. And somewhere in the middle of all this… Dance returned to my life. Quietly. My husband often photographed Bharatanatyam arangetrams, and I would accompany him—helping with invitations, brochures, and backstage coordination. Over time, simply being around dancers, rehearsals, music, expressions, and performances awakened something in me. The very art form I once drifted away from… slowly called me back. Life has a beautiful way of returning things to us when we are finally ready for them.

Today, when I look back, I do not see a flawless artistic journey. I see pauses. Growth. Service. Rediscovery. Faith. Connection. And through all of it, one thing remained constant: Music. Not just as an art.Not just as a skill.But as a companion that quietly shaped the person I became.