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Hari Om. I welcome you. Vishwa Gurujī had a wish that we begin with meditation accompanied by the flute, which is why I am sitting here. I will play one, perhaps two or three pieces, depending on our time. Some of you may recall when Gulābjī was giving lectures here. He suggested a technique of spending 10 to 15 minutes daily, just with yourself. To be with yourself without doing anything can be a challenge. The music here will create an environment for that practice. That is a little theory on the purpose of listening. It is also very easy to pay attention to the sound. It does not require forced concentration; in fact, the opposite is true—it is difficult not to pay attention to the music. We use this to our advantage. The sound captures your attention, and for an extended period, you can simply be with that sound. Sound takes us inward, whereas the eyes take our attention outward. Notice how, living in the world, we are exposed to much information. Many temptations come through our eyes. The objects we see generate many desires. Gulābjī also spoke of desires: the fewer desires, the more freedom; the more desires, the stronger the bondage. I will not talk further. Just relax and enjoy. The first rāga is called Rāga Chorākeśī. Some of you know the principle of how rāgas are not exactly composed but are based on a scale and certain rules within that scale. A rāga exists to evoke a specific mood, according to the time of day or night. You can feel it—the morning atmosphere is very different from the evening. Half of the scale uses tones that evoke a somewhat melancholic atmosphere—I do not wish to say sad, as rāgas are not sad, but that quality. The second part of the scale has very bright tones. If you look at life as we live it, it is often a combination of these two. Even within a single day, we can experience both, perhaps even more so. The message of the rāga may be to accept both poles of our life, instead of rushing toward happy times and trying to escape challenging ones. Alright, Rāga Chorākeśī. It seems we still have some time. I will fill the gap before the next rāga, which is called Rāga Durgā. Some of you know Durgā as one of the names of the Divine Mother. Some people have different imaginations or associations with this rāga. Some describe it as having the atmosphere of when the first snow appears on mountain peaks—something most of you here can relate to. So, Rāga Durgā. The next rāga is, by the way, from North India. The following one is originally South Indian, but perhaps North Indian musicians could not resist and adopted it into their tradition. To me, it sounds somewhat Middle Eastern, more Arabic or from the Islamic tradition. You know, the Sufis who practice and perform a special dance where they spin, with one foot always attached to the ground. They begin in a position like this, then turn around. The faster they spin, the faster they open their arms: one hand points upward to the Divine, the other downward to this mortal world. Again, it is a balance between those two. So, Rāga Kīrvāṇa.