willnothealyou

Day 2 of @blrhubba X @notinbir made us walk through the forest within. We learnt to walk again, this time like a nomadic community with a lot of perception, seeing beyond the obvious.

Bangalore, Gunehr Sound Museum, @notinbir are bringing the forests of Himachal to your IT jungle. Be good, ok! No AI, just good ol forest soundscape, wisdom by @soundteller and Indian classical vocals by @rev_tea Bloom in Green, Nandi hills, Jan 16-18 BLR Hubba, Panchvati & Sabha, Jan 22-24 PS: also, amazon is a forest.

A stranger taking us home made us believe in homes again. It made us wonder if home is a person or a place? As we performed the story of isolation in the forest, the forest became all of our homes. It spoke with us, it sang for us, and it showed us where we belong. We found our tribe and together we all became boundless. Thank you @niroshidha_ for getting us home Thank you Nidhi for bringing us to @blrhubba @anubhava.blr.hubba Thank you Sabha for being our evening performance home. With @notinbir & @rev_tea

Welcome to this mudhouse of memories It carries the weight of the forest and the stillness of the tribe.You are not just a visitor; you are part of the harvest.The resonant vibrations of the sound bowls act as the grounding energy and the initial nourishment (the fertiliser), calming the mind and preparing your internal soil. As those vibrations settle, the rhythmic, melodic tones of the handpan take over, guiding you into the harvest season —a state of full bloom, mindfulness, and rich inner reward. It is a perfect reflection of how the space weaves deep listening together with the natural and communal rhythms of the surrounding Himachal landscape. At the @notinbir , sound truly becomes a living, breathing ecosystem where visitors are not just passive listeners but an active part of the sensory landscape. Ft handpan by @ryanmartyr Bowls by @kamalika_veeresh

Did you add a @silver_linings_bir to your project? In Bir, it is a well-documented—if slightly superstitious—phenomenon that any independent venture worth its salt must first manifest as a poorly-taped rectangle on the Silverlining notice board. One might call it a "ritual" or a "good omen"; I prefer to think of it as the only way to get noticed amidst the healers and tarot readers of Bir. My last poster at silverlining happened in 2018 while launching our children’s foundation in Gunehr, and here we are in 2026, being an intern again to mark the first anniversary of our tribal and forest sound project - Gunehr Sound Museum @notinbir Silverlining lives up to its name, providing a faint glimmer of hope to our otherwise daunting to-do lists, though its true contribution to society remains the banoffee pie. It was under the silverlining bougainvillea that Revati and I first met in 2025—presumably at a flea market—and exactly a year later, we are back to plaster our first official poster at our preferred cafe. Whenever we took babysteps, silverlining was around like an old friend with a noticeboard. And, somehow their noticeboard had a little space for everyone. What's this poster all about? Should you find yourself tired of the relentless cafe-hopping that defines local existence, do join us at the Gunehr Sound Museum. We’re offering a sound journey through tribes, women, food, and forests—a rather refreshing change from the usual background electronica. Ft @rev_tea

The relationship between a village woman and her barley crop is less of a pastoral romance and more of a toxic, long-term marriage. On one hand, the barley husk is a godsend. It provides the winter fodder that spares the women their daily, gravity-defying expeditions into the vertical forests to hack down grass. For a few glorious weeks, the Cattle Grass Cardio is cancelled, and the cows are fed by the bounty of the courtyard. But barley is a petty deity. It demands a blood - or rather, a skin - sacrifice. Its awns are essentially microscopic glass needles designed by nature to find the exact gap between a headscarf and a shirt. As the women harvest, the air becomes a cloud of itchy vengeance. By noon, they aren’t so much harvesters as they are people attempting to vibrate out of their own skin, plagued by rashes that make a bed of stinging nettles look like a luxury spa treatment. Then there is the rain. The Himachali sky has a wicked sense of timing; it waits until the barley is spread out to sun-dry - at its most vulnerable and flammable-adjacent state - to drop a hint of a drizzle. This triggers the Barley 100-Meter Dash. At the first scent of ozone, women who have spent all day complaining of backaches suddenly transform into Olympic sprinters. They fly toward the fields, tossing plastic sheets and tarps with the frantic energy of a pit crew at the Monaco Grand Prix, all to protect a crop that spent the previous eight hours trying to give them a permanent skin condition. It is a cycle of labor where you save your legs only to sacrifice your epidermis, and where the clouds are the only thing faster than a woman protecting her cows' lunch. Next time you enjoy your barley drink or healthy breakfast, do realise the itch that has gone into it. To see a himachali village through its women perspective write to us at @notinbir

A Himachal Met Gala at the Gunehr Sound Museum sounds like a proper knees-up, provided one doesn't mind a bit of mud on their bespoke organic loafers. If we’re replacing Swarovski crystals with fallen rhododendrons and dried pine needles, the A-listers in New York are going to look tragically over-dressed and under-ventilated. Honestly, a red carpet is just a trip hazard compared to a village trail. While the city folk are busy worrying about their lighting, you’ve got the actual sun and a soundtrack that isn’t just a DJ named Trevor playing mid-tempo house music. To truly make the Manhattan crowd look like a pack of uninspired librarians, you’ll need to wheel out the local choreography. Here is why the Gunehr dance floor beats a velvet rope every time. The Nati: The Ultimate Circle of Trust The Nati is less of a dance and more of a polite, rhythmic endurance test. It’s a slow-burn circle dance where everyone holds hands—a terrifying concept for a celebrity—and moves in a hypnotic sway. It lasts for hours. By the time a New York gala would be finishing its first course of tiny kale, a Himachal Nati is just getting its second wind. It’s elegant, inclusive, and requires the kind of coordination that three martinis would definitely ruin. The Dandras: The Gaddi Warrior Shuffle If the Nati is too posh, the Dandras is where things get lively. Performed by the Gaddi shepherds, this involves sticks and a fair amount of leaping. It’s incredibly athletic and makes a choreographed pop performance look like a slow walk to the shops. Seeing someone in a sustainable leaf-tunic nail a high-energy Dandras would send a fashion editor into a full-blown existential crisis. The Masked Chham: Avant-Garde Before It Was Cool While the Met Gala tries to be edgy with weird headpieces, the Himalayan Chham dance has been doing massive, terrifying masks and heavy brocade robes for centuries. It’s meant to ward off evil spirits, which, let’s be fair, would be quite useful at most high-society parties. It’s vibrant, loud, and has more soul in one drumbeat than a decade of fashion weeks. DM @notinbir to join the inclusive Met.

The Forest Within is an immersive listening experience featuring living forest ecologies - the sound of babbling streams, the cacophony of insects and footsteps on dry grass. Experienced lying down, the journey unfolds gently through live soundscapes, Himachali folk textures, and spoken word storytelling. Together, these elements create a sensory passage into a forest - one that exists both in the outer world and within ourselves - beckoning you into a deep state of listening and rest. Lie down, awaken and bloom fogether like a forest. Celebrating one year of @notinbir

Niro, a visual artist currently auditioning for the role of - the Most Ambitious Person in the Room - has decided to rebrand the Gunehr Sound Museum. Instead of using a computer like a sane person in the 21st century, she’s drawing the entire identity by hand. This is inspired by the village’s lifestyle, where everything from the crops to the sustainable mats is handmade. Her primary muse? The Kangri musical instruments, which are being reimagined with the kind of artisanal grit you can’t find in a Silicon Valley font pack. She’s roped in Revati and Anoop to act as her professional sounding boards (or manual labour assistants, depending on who you ask). The real wildcard, however, is the Gunehr girls. They have a habit of painting on every available surface, and Niro has decided to lean into the chaos by letting them add the finishing touches. It’s a branding strategy that sits somewhere between communal masterpiece and controlled graffiti. As they slapped paint onto the canvas, the sky decided to join the marketing team by throwing up a rainbow - a bit loud but we’ll take the free production value. Launching soon, or whenever the paint finally dries.

Healed by nature, Gunehr children are the wildflowers.

Vimal and Saumya have been the steady heartbeat of our museum’s halls, weaving their spirit into the very fabric of our sound. As they set sail toward new horizons, we’re gathering to fill their sails with a final mudhouse jam—a celebration to water the seeds they’ve planted and keep the rhythm alive for all of us.

The instructor told me, 'Don't just walk. Let your sternum lead.' Have you ever tried to let your sternum lead you into a glass door? You look like you’re trying to start a fight.