"The Skill I’d Like to Master: The Art of Doing Absolutely Nothing"

In a world buzzing with productivity, where everyone is chasing after goals, ticking off to-do lists, and relentlessly pursuing self-improvement, there’s one skill I’ve long aspired to master—the fine and elusive art of doing absolutely nothing. Yes, you read that right. I don’t mean lounging around idly or wasting time on mindless activities. I’m talking about the pure, unadulterated state of nothingness—a skill that requires both intellectual dexterity and a hefty dose of humour to pull off successfully.

The Philosophy of Nothingness

Some might scoff at the idea of doing nothing, but if ancient philosophers can sit under trees contemplating the meaning of life, surely there’s value in the art of inaction. After all, Lao Tzu famously said, “Doing nothing is better than being busy doing nothing.” Profound, isn’t it? Mastering this skill involves tapping into a deeper philosophical understanding of life—a realisation that sometimes the greatest wisdom lies not in action, but in deliberate stillness.

Imagine the peace that comes with doing nothing, free from the tyranny of tasks and responsibilities. It’s almost zen-like, a state where one can contemplate the universe without ever leaving the comfort of their sofa. And let’s be honest, doing nothing requires a subtle form of genius. While everyone else is rushing around trying to be productive, those who have mastered this art sit back and watch the world go by, pondering life’s mysteries in the most relaxed way possible.

A Humorous Approach to Mastery

But let’s not confuse the art of doing nothing with laziness. Oh no, laziness is effortless. Doing nothing, on the other hand, requires conscious decision-making and meticulous planning. Think about it: deciding not to clean the house, not to answer emails, and most importantly, not to get out of bed—all require a level of strategic thinking. It’s a delicate balancing act, avoiding responsibilities while maintaining the illusion that you’re "deep in thought."

You can’t just sit on a couch staring blankly into space—that’s amateur hour! True masters of nothingness know how to do so with style. Perhaps a cup of tea in hand, gazing wistfully out of a window as if contemplating the very essence of existence. Throw in a copy of an unread classic novel next to you, and you’ve instantly elevated yourself to philosopher status.

The Intellectual Challenge

Doing nothing also presents an intellectual challenge. It’s about resisting the urge to be “busy.” We live in an era where people proudly proclaim how packed their schedules are, equating activity with importance. But I believe true intellect lies in recognising the value of a clear mind. The ability to sit still, observe, and ponder life without distractions—now that’s a skill worth mastering!

It takes a certain type of intelligence to extract yourself from the societal pressures of constant busyness. I mean, have you ever tried to say, “I’ve done absolutely nothing today” and not be met with judgmental glances? It’s almost revolutionary! It goes against everything we’ve been taught—that productivity equals success. But I ask you, who is more successful? The person rushing to meet deadlines or the one who has mastered the art of lounging with a sense of purpose?

The Benefits of Mastering Nothing

There’s a myriad of benefits that come with mastering the art of doing nothing. First and foremost, stress reduction. No deadlines, no obligations, no pressure. It’s like a spa day for your mind. While others are drowning in work, I imagine myself reclining in a hammock, watching the clouds drift by—mindfully practicing the ancient art of nothingness. In this state, one might even stumble upon moments of brilliance, epiphanies about life, the universe, and everything.

And then there’s the physical benefit. Doing nothing requires minimal energy, which means less wear and tear on the body. No frantic running around or stressing over tasks. It’s essentially the fountain of youth! By doing nothing, I’ll surely preserve my energy for the moments when I truly need it—like getting up for another cup of tea or reaching for the remote.

How to Practice Nothing

Now, you might be wondering, “How does one practice doing nothing?” It’s an art form, I assure you. Start small. Try sitting in a chair for five minutes, resisting the urge to check your phone, respond to an email, or contemplate the dishes piling up in the sink. Take it slow. As with any skill, mastery takes time. Eventually, you’ll work your way up to entire afternoons of peaceful inactivity.

The key is to avoid feeling guilty about it. Society may tell you that doing nothing is a waste of time, but I argue it’s time well spent—an investment in your mental clarity. After all, history’s greatest thinkers—Einstein, Da Vinci, even Buddha—spent plenty of time doing nothing, and look how they turned out!

Conclusion: The Skill Worth Pursuing

In a world that’s constantly in motion, mastering the art of doing nothing is perhaps the most radical and revolutionary skill one can possess. It’s about finding joy in stillness, resisting the pressure to always be doing something, and discovering that in doing nothing, you’re actually gaining everything. It’s a skill that requires a sharp mind, a sense of humour, and a deep understanding of life’s true priorities.

So, while others may be out there hustling and bustling, chasing after goals and endlessly ticking off tasks, I’ll be here, honing my craft—perfecting the art of doing absolutely nothing, with a smile on my face and a cup of tea in hand. Because, in the grand scheme of things, doing nothing might just be the most important skill of all.

The Symphony of Silence: Life Without Music

Imagine a world devoid of sound, where the harmonious echoes of life’s melody cease to exist. For someone like me, who has lived through the deep resonance of Hindustani classical music, felt the warmth of Jim Reeves' country tunes, and been healed by the soothing hum of Raga Bihag on the flute, such a world would feel barren. Music is not just an accompaniment to my life; it is my most trusted companion, my brother in spirit. A life without it would be akin to a day without sunlight — cold, colorless, and incomplete.

From an early age, music has been woven into the very fabric of my being. The gentle notes of the harmonium, the intricate dance of my fingers on the keyboard, these instruments are extensions of myself. My passion for Hindustani classical music and the timeless Hindi songs of the 1960s, especially those sung by Mukesh, have been a constant source of solace.

 Mukesh’s voice, with its haunting sincerity, often feels like a bridge to another time, another me. I have walked the corridors of nostalgia, hearing his melancholy notes echo in my soul, bringing forth memories wrapped in warmth and familiarity. Without these songs, it is difficult to imagine how I would make sense of the ebbs and flows of life.

Equally significant are the English country songs, especially those by Jim Reeves and Kenny Rogers. Their deep, soothing voices tell stories of love, loss, and longing, much like the rustic folk tunes I cherish in Maithili, Bhojpuri, and Punjabi. Music, regardless of its language, transcends barriers. It speaks a universal truth that words alone often cannot convey. I’ve always found comfort in Gospel hymns and the chanting of Sanskrit shlokas, which bring me closer to the divine, and remind me that music can serve as a conduit to the spiritual.

As a Principal, my deep connection to music extended into the school I led. I took it upon myself to bring out an exclusive hymnbook for the school, carefully curating songs that would not only inspire students but create a spiritual bond within the school community. Personally engaging in training the school choir, I had the pleasure of working with both students and teachers, shaping their musical journeys and the musical identity of the school. Now, after retirement, I deeply miss those moments, the vibrant voices of the children, and the dedication of the teachers. Without them, the absence of that shared musical space feels more profound, leaving me nostalgic for a time when music echoed through the hallways and assemblies.

Classical ragas, especially Rag Bihag on the flute, have a unique ability to heal me in ways words never could. The delicate interplay between melody and rhythm transports me to a serene inner world. In this state, the chaos of the outside world seems distant, and I find peace in the purity of sound. When I hear various ragas played on different instruments by different artists, it’s as though I am communing with different facets of my own soul, each raga reflecting a different emotion or experience. Without such moments, life would seem emotionally stunted, like a conversation cut short before anything meaningful could be said.

Music is not just a passive experience for me; it is an active part of who I am. It has shaped my thoughts, my memories, and my identity. In the words of Friedrich Nietzsche, “Without music, life would be a mistake.” Indeed, music has been my constant in times of joy and sorrow, a companion during lonely hours, a balm for wounds unseen. In India, the tradition of music is not merely an art form; it is a means of spiritual connection. Whether through the bhajans sung in the temples or the haunting strains of a sarangi, music here is a pathway to both personal and collective healing.

The Western world, too, offers profound reflections on music’s significance. Beethoven, despite his deafness, composed some of the world’s most moving pieces, proving that music is not just something we hear but something we feel. His symphonies are testaments to the idea that music can convey what lies beyond the spoken word. For me, this idea resonates deeply — music is more than sound. It is emotion, thought, and a connection to something larger than myself.

In a life without music, I imagine I would feel profoundly alone. The harmonium and keyboard would stand silent, their voices stifled, much like my own inner expressions. The songs of Mukesh, the flutes playing Rag Bihag, the hymns of devotion — all would be mere memories, echoes of a time when the world still sang. Yet, I would cling to those echoes, for they are proof that music once existed and shaped my life in ways I can never forget.

In conclusion, a life without music is a life deprived of its heartbeat, its rhythm, and its soul. Music has been my teacher, my friend, and my confidante. It has lent meaning to the mundane and solace to the sorrowful. In its absence, I would still carry the music within me, in the memories and emotions it has carved into my being. Because music is not just what we hear — it’s who we are.

This blog, I hope, brings to light the depth of my relationship with music, a relationship that crosses boundaries of language, culture, and time. As long as there is breath in me, music will live, both in the sounds that surround me and in the silence that speaks its own melody.