ith the onset of summer, people in cities often pray for rain to relieve the severity of the heat. In rural areas, however, those connected to traditional agricultural cycles hope for rainfall according to the solar calendar, which governs the timings for sowing and harvesting. A certain level and intensity of heat is, in fact, necessary for crops to yield good harvests.

Meanwhile, those living in air-conditioned spaces, earning a living through industrial production or its digital offshoots, often have no integral connection to the weather beyond how their bodies register temperature. As cities continue to grow, now with nearly half the population residing in urban centres, the consequences of excessive rainfall become more acute. Urban flooding has become a common concern. In rural areas, flooding has long been a recurring issue.

In today’s world, climate change and global warming top the list of urgent global concerns. These issues increasingly shape worldviews and inform the course of public discussion.

When it comes to music, however, many people remain unaware of the artistic matrix underlying its expression. They often interpret it at face value. For instance, when a raga is performed, particularly one associated with a natural element, some audience members, usually with a tone of derision, ask whether the clouds will actually gather and it will rain by the end of the recital, or if the concert area might catch fire during a performance invoking heat or flame.

The common perception of classical ragas often stems from an overly literal interpretation – one that treats the myths associated with ragas as if they are actual, physical phenomena.

Taken more in letter than in spirit, this literal reading of myths and legends reflects a broad cultural distancing from our classical heritage. Over time, the symbolic and metaphysical richness of these traditions has been replaced by a demand for straightforward, tangible meaning.

This tendency has been reinforced by cinema, which frequently presents musical and poetic metaphors in literal, visual form. For example, when a fluttering heart is evoked as a poetic image, its cinematic representation as actual birds fluttering or cooing may seem charming – but it often diminishes the emotional or symbolic depth of the original expression.

Nature, with a capital N, was seen as an awe-inspiring force, a powerful presence that commanded respect and submission.

It may be conceded that, during the classical period, the effect of ragas was defined through the aesthetic category of rasa. Each raga was believed to evoke a specific rasa. If rendered effectively, this was considered a mark of artistic excellence. The rasa was embedded in the raga itself, but the mastery of the artiste brought it to life. Thinkers and musicologists of the time maintained that not only each sur (note) but each shruti (microtone) too carried a quantum of aesthetic emotion. An artist’s skill wove these elements into a tapestry of feeling, enabling communication with the audience, who, metaphorically and literally, breathed the same air.

However, rasa was an aesthetic concept, highly mediated and layered, and should not be confused with its metaphoric or physical implications.

The classical period was marked by a holistic relationship between humanity, the world and Nature. Humans were part of an integrated universe in which the forces of nature were not indifferent to their existence. While these forces could be hostile, human aspirations and desires were believed to resonate with Nature.

Nature, with a capital N, was seen as an awe-inspiring force, a powerful presence that commanded respect and submission. It was in humanity’s best interest to honour this force and learn to live in harmony with its potential.

However, in post-Renaissance Europe, humanity began to separate itself from Nature. Man became an isolated figure, a lone voice, a cry in the wilderness. This rupture was most acutely felt during the Romantic period, when Nature and civilisation came to be viewed as opposing poles. The desire was no longer to live with Nature, but to conquer it, to design, reshape and, ultimately, improve upon it.

In the contemporary cultural climate, a musician often connects with the audience primarily through lyrics. People tend to remember compositions by their bols (words) and often recall a piece by citing the mukhra (refrain) in verbal terms.

The predominance of lyrics may be attributed to their catchiness and accessibility, but this emphasis can compromise the integrity of the musical expression, which ought to be guided by the tonal structure rather than the textual content.

The writer is a Lahore-based culture critic.