Ridhya always loved the divine sound of the sitar and often imagined herself playing it masterfully.
One day, in the market, she saw a sitar. It was old, neglected, and the man selling it looked bored. But when she touched it, he leaned in and said, “The goddess herself once played this.”
He smiled, as an excellent storyteller smiles before captivating his audience. Ridhya didn’t ask for proof.
She didn’t need it. She saw herself in the story—chosen, transformed. She bought the sitar with money meant for grain.
At home, she plucked the strings. The sound was not divine; it was harsh, like stone cracking under pressure. She winced. It wasn’t music—it was noise. She blamed the strings, the air, the seller. She did not blame herself.
She didn’t return it. She kept the sitar, polished it. She displayed it like a relic, told stories of its future music, of her slow, deliberate learning. But she never practiced. She feared the sound of her own failure. She could not accept that she can not play. That would require her to acknowledge that longing, without resolve, is merely a wish unfulfilled.
Next morning, she heard her neighbour Darshnai sing while sweeping her porch. Her voice was raw, imperfect—but alive. She had no instrument, only her heart.
That evening, Darshnai saw the sitar and asked gently, “May I try?”
Ridhya stiffened. “No. It’s mine. I’m learning.” But she wasn’t. She was afraid Darshnai might make real music with it.
Days passed. Then seasons. Then years. The sitar remained untouched, a mute witness to a life unlived. Meanwhile, Darshnai left to find places where her voice could be heard.
The sitar never broke. It simply waited. It could have made music. It could have brought joy. But it stayed in the dark because one person feared letting it go.
Not every loss is loud, sometimes, it sounds like nothing at all.
Sayings of Jivavarta
Lexicon of Jivavarta:
The Silent Sitar: Holding on to a talent, opportunity, or resource one neither uses nor shares, leaving its potential unrealized.
Key Philosophical Concepts Represented
- Potential vs. Actuality
Possession does not equal realization. Capacity becomes meaningful only through sustained action. - Self-Deception
Narrative replaces effort. Comforting stories shield the self from confronting inadequacy. - Bad Faith
Freedom is denied by misattributing failure to external causes rather than chosen inaction. - Fear of Failure
Avoidance masquerades as patience. Growth is abandoned to preserve a fragile self-image. - Attachment and Possessive Identity
Ownership becomes identity. Objects meant for use are transformed into symbols of self-worth. - Authenticity vs. Appearance
Display substitutes for engagement. The semblance of becoming replaces actual becoming. - Envy of Realized Ability
Another’s authenticity threatens constructed identity, provoking control rather than generosity. - Opportunity Cost of Inaction
What is not chosen is still lost. Time and nourishment are sacrificed to illusion. - Silent Loss / Unrealized Life
Tragedy unfolds without spectacle. The deepest losses leave no sound. - Stewardship vs. Hoarding
Value lies in circulation, not possession. What is withheld from use is withheld from life.
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Shon Mehta is an author and philosopher, creator of the Jivavarta Universe—a grounded sociopolitical world exploring human resilience, social dynamics, and moral philosophy through systems thinking. Her novels (The Timingila, Lair of the Monster), poems, aphorisms, parables, and stories are used in academic curricula internationally and featured by Oxford University Press.
At the core of her work is the Jivavarta Framework, which includes tools such as the Jivavarta Systems Equation: Outcomes = Choice×Structure×Constraint, and the "Survive, Thrive, Strive" Jivavarta hierarchy. Together, her writing and framework form a literary and philosophical system recognized for its clarity, depth, and enduring relevance.
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