You Cannot Keep Ragas and Regrets in Your Mind Together: An Overture To Shehnai and Morning Light

“Even if the world ends the music will still survive.” — Bismillah Khan

Listening to the shehnai in the soft embrace of dawn has added a magical quality to my mornings. Ustad Bismillah Khan’s suprabhat feels like a new rekindling of spirit—a slow, stirring welcome to the day that amplifies the unique beauty of each morning, no matter where I find myself. The shehnai’s notes mingle with the changing light, creating a fresh mood and feel depending on the hour, season, and even the landscape I wake up in.

In Indian summers, for instance, the shehnai rises with the golden hues of the rising sun. A moving tapestry on the waters of the Ganges in Banaras. Sweet melodies resonate through the streets of Kashi.  Warmth of the morning lingers over the ghats, temples and trees, creating a sense of quiet reverence. The experience is grounding, steeped in a timeless connection to an ancient land. Connecting the soul of every devotee to the deep cultural roots of this instrument.

A misty autumn morning in Venice—the shehnai takes on a different tone. Here, the cool, silver light drifts like a gondola in canals. Simulating a Monet’s fog-draped landscape. The shehnai’s slow, measured strokes mirror the haunting beauty of an impressionist painting. The soulful notes call out to the long lost friend, adding longing to the morning solitude. 

In the winter, the tropical forest of Ubud is still verdant. The shehnai greets a rain drenched, limpid dawn. The joyous music blends with the calls of parakeets and bulbuls with the gentle paddling of ducks in their yellow webbed feet through rice paddies. A rustic harmony with nature A vibrant haven. Each note glows in the early light, filling every flower, fruit, and life with a sense of duty and purpose for the day ahead.

In the Bay, a brisk spring morning colors the mountain peaks, silver, blue, green, ochre. Warming every sleeping lupine, foxglove, will mustard and daisy to unfurl under a crystal-clear sky. The shehnai feels like a gentle mother’s morning prayer. Bringing comfort and a sense of belonging. Each note gently opens every bud, transforming the landscape into a colorful phulkari thrown over the Pacific ocean. In tourist season in Positano, on the Amalfi coast of Italy, the notes vibrate . In the rich grape vines and olive trees covered with olives. Scenting the atmosphere with the fragrance of freshly baked bread, aromatic coffee and inducing dreamlike picturesque houses stacked one on top of the other like colorful lego blocks we built as children. Mingling with the glowing waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea.  Only to remind us what we will miss in times to come. 

See Also

Successful Indian Americans in Business and Tech Must Speak Up Against Trump’s Draconian Immigration Measures

On a vacation with parents in Kerala, the shehnai guides the fishing boats at the crack of dawn, their shadowy silhouettes adapting to the ebb and flow of the calm Arabian sea. Following the bridal party dressed in white and gold Kasavu sarees to the temple. I remember my mother’s smile as she holds my hand and offers me a tender coconut from the tree in her vegetable garden. I drink deep from the coconut and in my mind’s eye draw the gently swaying fringed leaves of the palm tree with a sharpened light green color pencil. Each line and each note remind me of my father’s wise eyes, Coaxing me to forget rudeness, and bad experiences. 

After all, Ustad Bismillah Khan rightly said: You cannot keep ragas and regrets in your mind together. I am grateful today and everyday that this morning ritual of listening to the shehnai has become my meditation and my time to put ink to paper. Coupling me to the rhythms of nature and the unique qualities of light that shape each dawn. In every place, season, and moment, I feel centered. The notes of Shehnai are my creed to greet the world anew every day. My unique snowflake ( as per Pamuk) constructed with memory, emotion and reason. My sacred geometry.  To wake up not only to light and music,  but also to presence, peace, unity and diversity and the possibility of saving our planet.

With one foot in Huntsville, Alabama, the other in her birth home, India, and a heart steeped in humanity, Monita Soni writes as a contemplative practice. She has published hundreds of poems, movie reviews, book critiques, and essays, and contributed to combined literary works. Her two books are My Light Reflections and Flow Through My Heart. You can hear her commentaries on Sundial Writers Corner, WLRH 89.3 FM.