I play what the raga asked for,
concert hall when the form demanded it,
jazz when the night loosened,
a song when nothing else would do.
I write about music and the people who make it,
about who owns a song and who should.
I build with earth, then write about that too
the wall and the word, the same hands.
I bake with millet, build with wood
flour on the same hands that measure timber.
I read until something connects,
then write the connection down.
Things that looked unrelated
until I look long enough.
But it's all the same impulse:
nothing should go unexamined.
I gave up figuring out myself.
You are welcome if you find it interesting.
Following is the index to find me in public.
If that looks fragmented,
maybe you have to find me in private.
note@beingokul.com