By Kavita Chhibber
Ajit Acharya and I would have never met, leave alone get married, if it was not for Ustad Zakir Hussain.
I always said I’ll share that story some day but never quite got down to it. I’m glad that Zakir ji did hear it from me and about the impact he has had on Ajit, who became a tabla player only because of Zakir ji.
I have been writing about everything else to avoid acknowledging the fact that I will have to eventually write about what all of us feel is an untimely departure of someone extraordinary from the planet.
There is no doubt that Zakir ji was a genius, a once-in-a-century kind of magician on the tabla. But he was also highly intelligent, witty, far-sighted and an out-of-the-box thinker. He was exceedingly charismatic, and every time we met he was the quintessential gentleman.
I remember following the work of his father, the great Ustad Alla Rakha Ji, and then Zakir ji, as a youngster in India. However, I first saw Zakir ji perform live with the band Shakti at Emory University maybe 23 or 24 years ago.
To see such master musicians in sync that magical night was an unforgettable experience
I was supposed to interview him that day, but there was some mess up and the interview didn’t happen until a year later.
To prepare for that interview, I started extensive research. It was then that I stumbled on a tabla website created by Ajit and a close friend of his.
I never sign guest books but I signed this one. Ajit told me later he never responded to messages either, but he answered mine only because I mentioned I was interviewing Zakir Hussain.
He directed me to his newer website which had even more information. He wished me luck and requested that I let him know how the interview went.
I had no idea then that Ajit had emceed many of Zakir ji’s concerts as a college student.
When I asked Ajit later in a follow-up email how did he get involved in classical music and Tabla in particular, he told me a story.
Ajit moved to USA when he was three and loved non-Indian drums. He really had no interest in Indian music, classical or otherwise, until one summer when he was visiting his extended family in Bangalore. He was a teenager and his parents dragged him to an Indian classical music concert.
Ajit was annoyed, didn’t want to go and sat in the auditorium with an expression that wasn’t a very happy one. “It was like someone had given me a glass of spoilt milk and I still had to swallow it.”
The two artists appeared on stage, and Ajit continued to sulk… until the first sound.
He looked up and was hooked for the rest of the concert. “It was the closest I had come to falling in love.”
The artists? Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia and Ustad Zakir Hussain. Ajit went backstage to meet them and when he told Zakir ji how blown away he was by his mastery, Zakir ji said to him, that if that was the case, then even though the road would be tough, he must learn the instrument.
Ajit did and became very good at it, to the point that he has performed with the likes of the great Sushila Devi, the nightingale of the South, and Rajan Sajan Mishra among others.
I ended up finally meeting Zakir ji a year later and we started on the wrong “note” so to say, something we laughed about later.
He had just arrived from India. There was a big event at Georgia Tech, with Pandit Jasraj, Dr. L. Subramaniam and Ustad Sultan Khan among others. I was asked to talk directly to Zakir ji on the phone and try and set up the interview myself, by a mutual acquaintance.
I called, asked for the interview and said I was going to request my mom’s childhood friend Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma Ji if the interview request was messed up a second time.
Zakir ji immediately said “You have mentioned Shiv ji’s name and that is enough for me. But I have one request. I don’t want the interview published in any magazine that endorses alcohol or tobacco.”
I said “I will make sure of that, since I retain copyright to my work.” For some reason Zakir ji did not like that. “What do you mean you retain copyright? Doesn’t the artist have any say?”
I responded “Not unless it’s a sponsored and paid write up which I don’t do. And if there is an issue, we don’t have to do this interview. “
“No, you took Shiv ji’s name and I agreed to do this interview. So meet me at 4 pm at the venue.”
I had no idea then of how much love there was between Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma and Zakir ji.
And I also realized then that Zakir ji was a man of his word. He had never met me, nor had he read anything I had written, and yet just because he had agreed to do the interview, he followed through.
Not just that, I found out later that he was jet lagging, wasn’t feeling very well but still insisted on doing the interview.
Ustad Sultan Khan sat in the room as the interview was recorded for television and print and it went so well that both Zakir ji and Sultan Khan ji commented on how well prepared I was.
It was then that I mentioned Ajit’s website and his admiration for Zakir ji.
Since then I’ve realized that one of the hardest things any artist would have to do is an interview barely a few hours before a concert. I no longer interview anyone on the day of an event. Nor do I meet the artist if they are tired.
Today I appreciate what happened that afternoon even more. Not just that, Zakir ji made himself available whenever I requested a conversation.
Over a period of time not only did we see Shiv ji and Zakir ji together in concert several times in multiple cities, but I noticed that every time they walked onstage, Zakir ji would carry Shiv ji’s Santoor to the stage and would always walk a few steps behind him.
It was genuine respect, love and humility.
Something the younger generation can learn.
Zakir ji’s quick wit was evident all the time and it was like his eyes and ears were everywhere!
At one concert he and I were in an animated conversation, when a woman started clicking pictures surreptitiously. Zakir ji caught her immediately. He stopped her and asked “Don’t you take permission before taking pictures?” The woman said rudely, “Oh I took permission from that guy hosting the concert.”
Pat came the reply “Then go take his pictures.”
I knew her and asked her to delete them.
One of our most memorable moments was when after a concert in Savannah we had dinner with them. Just the four of us, Shiv ji, Zakir ji, Ajit and I.
Indian food was served and Zakir ji served all of us, with warmth and his usual wit.
Both he and Shiv ji stayed up late at night to accommodate us and the conversation just flowed.
It was at a concert in Chicago where Ajit was quietly taking pictures backstage for my review. While I was chatting away with Zakir ji, that I pointed to Ajit and said “Zakir ji, that guy taking pictures? I have to tell you a story about him that he has been too shy to tell you, in spite of having emceed your concerts and now having met you many times with me.”
It was then I told him how Ajit had met him as a teenager, and that if he was an accomplished Tabla player it was due to the conversation he had with Zakir ji that evening in Bangalore.
Zakir ji was deeply moved and walked up to Ajit and said “This is the greatest gift any musician can receive. Thank you.”
Over the years, I moved away from journalism temporarily but Ajit and I have attended literally every concert of Zakir ji that has happened in Atlanta or Boston. I have attended the same series twice, the most recent ones being Shakti’s iconic series of concerts last year and “Tisra” earlier this March.
But the one that still touches my heart is a special event, that took place on 7th April 2007 called Bhava: A Door to Union, at Clemson University.
It was the first time I got to meet Zakir ji’s wife Antonia Minnecola (“Toni” as everyone lovingly calls her.) An accomplished Kathak exponent in her own right, she was sharing the stage with Zakir ji.
I don’t think people can ever understand the sacrifices that are made by the wives of legends, especially someone as accomplished as Toni who raised two exceptional daughters while balancing her love for her own craft and parenthood. And supporting Zakir ji.
I remember their older daughter Anisa Angelica Qureshi telling me in a conversation I had with her, that “My father was gone a lot because of his work, and my earliest memories are of an exceptionally beautiful, graceful, strong woman – my mother – raising my sister and I. My Mom really was everything to us. Even though my father was away, I never felt I was lacking in anything. It was because my mother made it a point to always be strong and let us know that we were an entire family. That takes a lot of skill when your husband is gone a lot as my father was.” Anisa is so right.
I was helping promote that concert so there was extensive interaction on email before Toni and I finally met.
Zakir ji saw me walk in while he was on stage doing final rehearsals, stopped and immediately introduced me to Toni. She was equally warm and gracious.
That event was sold out and the presentation as I wrote in my review captured so many aspects of Indian classical music and dance along with indepth information but in a way that was comprehensible to everyone- from the novice to the learned.
Both Zakir ji’s lecture demonstration and Toni’s performance created a magnificent visual of various colors, rasas and bhava that make our art forms as majestic as they are.
But it was at the dinner afterwards that I saw the unbreakable bond between two people who genuinely care about each other and are the greatest of friends.
Through ups and downs that are a part of life only those marriages survive where friendship is the key ingredient.
And anyone who knows Toni loves her and them together.
And everything Anisa said about Toni was true.
One of the things that I notice about most great artists (and I know many closely) is that they are highly emotional beings, and as they evolve, most become more and more grateful, humble and accessible.
I remember, saying to Zakir ji when we first met, and then through the years, how people just want more and more of him. Zakir ji responded then and now “It has lasted so long because of the power of the media, and lack of it is the only reason legends of yesteryear have not been heard or seen that long. Superstar status allows you to linger on for a little while longer, but unless you continue to deliver, you are always replaceable.”
People don’t realize the blood, sweat and tears that continue behind the scenes for any successful or even a struggling artist and not just on a world stage.
Zakir ji paid his dues as well. The road to success was not a cakewalk.
For those at the top, the work is tougher. He or she has to work even harder and relentlessly, continuing to reinvent themselves to remain relevant.
The toll on their personal lives and wellbeing can be tremendous, and unless the family around them remains caring and committed to nurture them, many of them have collapsed.
Whatever persona they may project, great artists are far more vulnerable, sensitive, and kinder and far more exhausted than people clamoring for their attention realize.
They smile on stage but off stage their sorrows, their health issues, their fears and worries, the unkindness extended by organizers, fans and at times the egos of fellow performers are all things that have to be compartmentalized. The show must go on.
And so it is so important that the audience understands that. It’s their love that makes every bit of fatigue vanish and then magic happens.
For me hard as it has been to write this, some of the thoughtful words Javed Akhtar sahib said at the beautiful memorial service in Bombay gave me solace.
He said (and I loosely paraphrase): We often use mundane words to describe mediocre people when they leave this earth, because there is no word that is saved somewhere in our dictionary, to describe someone who is born only once every 100 or 150 years. And so one is at a loss when someone like Zakir ji leaves the planet, especially someone who was not just an extraordinary artist but an extraordinary human being.
A few years ago Javed Sahib asked Zakir ji what was a “gharana”?
Zakir ji described it as a confluence of artists who have learnt from the same master teacher imbibing their stylistic touches and nuances into their own playing. And so every teacher ends up forming his own gharana.
When Javed Sahib mentioned it to Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma Shivji retorted: “That’s right but Zakir forgot to tell you the problem. Zakir can play the techniques of every single so- called gharana fluently, and the biggest problem is that every tabla player now wants to be Zakir.”
Great artists may leave the planet when it is destined, but as Zakir ji himself said they don’t take their work, and contributions with them.
And because everyone wants to be Zakir, the world will remain his stage forever, just as it should.