Every sunrise for a Baul minstrel feels like a fresh verse in life’s endless song. Spirituality isn’t a separate chapter tucked away for Sundays—it’s woven through every moment, from the first sip of chai to the final twang of the ektara under starlight. The body itself becomes a temple where the divine patiently awaits discovery, echoing both Sufi yearning and Vaishnava devotion in a single heartbeat.

Morning rituals might include a simple puja: oil lamp flickering, a few blooms offered, and the soft recitation of mantras passed down through generations. But more often, prayer takes the form of music. Wandering barefoot across village lanes, Baul singers invite listeners into “moner manush,” the beloved within the heart. Lyrics resonate with tantric imagery—kundalini rising, chakras swirling—but never feel abstract. Each metaphor is grounded in day-to-day ups and downs, making enlightenment as down-to-earth as a muddy riverbank in monsoon season.

Conversation over an open fire might spark impromptu lessons on divine intoxication. Inspired by Sufi “wines” of love and Vaishnava love-songs to Radha-Krishna, Bauls seek a sweet madness where the boundaries between self and cosmos blur. That’s where the real magic lies—learning to dance in the chaos of emotions, rather than resisting them.

Recent years have seen Baul voices amplified on global stages. At COP28’s cultural pavilion early this year, a small troupe highlighted climate justice alongside spiritual unity, reminding everyone that inner awakening and planetary care go hand in hand. Back home, cell phones capture morning chants, streaming them across continents like digital pilgrims.

What shines through is a practice that never feels forced. Spirituality seeps into every meal shared, every melody hummed, every footstep taken under the open sky. There’s no steepled building or gilded statue—just the human heart, endlessly curious and forever seeking the music of the soul.