The Flute-Player by S.R. Dongerkery is one of those poems which tell of Krishna magic and music doing the rounds and the ears and the eyes do not tire of viewing and listening to the spectacle, the plethora of mystery and myth unfolding, coming down to us in the form of lore. The poem under our discussion is an extract from his work named The Ivory Tower published in 1943.

Did you not hear the sonorous tunes doing the rounds, casting a spell, an impact of their own, moving to the core? Did you, did you hear the tunes breaking, melodious tunes pouring over, enthralling, drenching in, taking over in their spell? Such a soulful music, where to hear it the music divine coming to and Shyam playing the tunes, Ghanashyam? As the scenes shift and the sunrays so does music echo and vibrate from different corners, we mean the melodies, divine melodies breaking. Music echoes it everywhere, the flute is played so beautifully that it charms those who hear it, give a passing ear to and stop by the way to hear the music.

Such is the cast of the music that it keeps us spell-bound, so pleasing to the ears. The image of Shyam, Ghanashyam too is so captivating and charming.

He has stolen the hearts and will continue to steal with his musical melodies the minds and hearts of men and maids as well. O Time as passer-by, come you to a stop to hear the flute pouring music, musical melodies doing the rounds as such never felt it before!

The blossoms of love, what to say about their aroma and flowering, the tree shades and the lurking shadows of the blue mountains? Where is it not his image? Where is it not his shadow? Where is   the music not breaking from? 

Didst thou hear the dulcet strains
Wafted on the evening breeze,
O’er the hills and o’er the plains,
O’er the land encircling seas ?
 
Fragrant memories distilled
From love-blossomed hearts entwined
Back again to life are thrilled
In the alcoves of the mind.
 
Birds pour forth their amorous lays,
Flooding vale and countryside,
While the forest gently sways
To this tune of eventide.
 
Snake and mongoose, ancient foes,
Spend the balmy hour in play;
Lions next to lambs repose,
Wolves forget their daily prey. 
 
Standing cross-legged, flute in hand,
Through the ages hath he played
Tunes which over sea and land
Steal the hearts of man and maid;
 
Songs of sunshine and of rain,
Songs of fruit and flower and leaf,
Songs that dull the edge of pain,
Songs that drown the voice of grief;
 
Songs of laughter and of mirth,
Songs that mock at Death's grim jest,
Songs that bring the heaven to earth.
Ending man's untiring quest;
 
Songs whose words, as they escape, 
Potent spells o’er minds acquire,
Songs whose mystic power can drape
Souls of men with wings of fire.
 
Years may swell to centuries.
Nations rise to power and fall,
With his love-linked melodies
 He will hold the world in thrall.

Ages have rolled, but the melody of the songs has not. Still it keeps casting a spell, an impact of own. Over land, sea and into the space, the music can be heard and the magic of the music will continue to charm us as long as this creation is.
 
Songs have the power to mitigate pain as they shower delight upon, the soulful melodies breaking from the flute, the flute divine, held on the lips of Krishna and he piping, piping the songs, fluting, fluting beautifully. They have the power to lessen grief.
 
These are but the songs of laughter and mirth, songs that mock Death, songs that bring heaven to earth, ending man’s untiring quest.
 
Wording of the song is as such that it casts a deep impact on the mind; the mystic power is as such that it can do marvels.
 
Cartography and mapping and re-mapping of lands may go in their own way, but the lore of Krishna will remain the same down the ages. Nations will rise to power and will fall, but he will continue to hold his sway over. Love-linked melodies can charm uniquely.