He calls me Ragini. I’m not just an inanimate flute to him. I come to life in his hands. I breathe with his breath and sing to the music in his soul.. matching him… beat for beat, rhythm for rhythm. I desire nothing but to belong to him- to draw my life from his lips.


There are times when he seems sunk in a stupor. Such periods last for weeks. Those days he shuns me as if he can’t bear to look at me. He feels guilty for abandoning me, and punishes himself for doing it. I could happily kill it, this thing that makes him do this to US.


Three weeks ago he went and bought himself a sitar. Since then, he has spent every moment of his time with her- calling her DHUN. When I see his fingers moving over her, caressing her, sliding over her wires, I pray she would disintegrate into dust. There, he is at her again…! I’ll go pray…!!!


Dhun has come undone…! 🙂 He is with me again, every moment he can spare. He carries me in his pocket, keeps me at his lips all day. I sing my heart out. Yet, there is no peace in my soul. I want more of him… until he pours his being into me and fills my hollowness.


His days begin and end with me. He knows how to breathe in me just so far, without a single misplaced fraction of a second, to produce the most flawless notes. I’m ecstatic, thrilled to the core. When did I become capable such exquisiteness? I’m euphoric and reverent, worshiping him, discovering myself. Oh, the joy!


Note: The flute symbolizes human creative ability and passion. These 55- fictions are the passionate voice of human creative ability. For once this passion has come to life and is being allowed to speak of its joy when it is indulged in and owned; turning the practitioner into an object of reverence and veneration.

Picture from Google Images
Picture from Google Images