In a true musicians' life, there comes a point where the petty technicalities, the notations and the never ending debates on ragas and melakarthas become meaningless and obsolete; he dies and all that is left is total immersion of his mind in music, a pure and instinctive creature is born; it thinks and feels in music; music is its language; it is guided by it, and expresses itself through it, its sings out of joy; not vanity, it plays for itself, it plays to feel, to emote. Music is its emotion. It hears naught but notes, but it no longer thinks of music as a collection of notes, but as a whirlwind of passion and emotion; notes are meaningless; they are for the unenlightened; who must grovel and crawl in search of that elusive realization. It no longer needs to study notes to play, all that is required is emotion, and music is his vehicle of emotion; can you not feel the despair and anger of Beethoven in his fifth symphony; his anger at not being able to hear his own music and his audience's applause, his despair at Nature's cruel irony of gifting him the ability to create but not hear his own music?

Video: Beethoven's Fifth Symphony; Conducted by Herbert von Karajan; one of the world's most renowned conductors....