ZAKIR HUSSAIN’S INHERITANCE

Touring India this winter, Ustad Zakir Hussain says he only gives the world what his father gave him

TThe word ‘zakir’ roughly translates to ‘he who remembers’, and Ustad Zakir Hussain understands well the importance of memory and also its capriciousness. In Mumbai to commemorate the 20th barsi of his father, Ustad Allarakha, the tabla maestro says, “Out of sight can sometimes mean out of mind. Given that memories abide for only that long after someone’s passing, I sometimes marvel at the longevity of love and affection people have had for my father, a legend.” Organised on February 3 every year, A Homage to Abbaji is an event that stalwarts sign up for without hesitation. Hussain, 68, is overwhelmed by the goodwill his father still enjoys. “It all feels very special,” he says.

For Hussain, Ustad Allarakha was both father and guru. His taleem, he says, never felt like a chore. “He

transmitted his music in a way that felt intimate.” Hussain remembers conversations they had on the dinner table: “He didn’t just teach you to be a musician, he taught you how to navigate this quagmire called life.” Tabla lessons were imparted at three in the morning. The one time the ustad felt frustrated enough to slap his son, he instantly consoled Hussain with dahi batata puri from a nearby chaat shop. “He wiped out the traditional distance between guru and shishya. We were his colleagues, his pals. We always had fun,” says Hussain. In a recent interview, sitarist Niladri Kumar said, “He [Hussain] does not believe in conventional hierarchy.” Hussain says, “I would say I get that from my father.”

Photographer Dayanita

Singh had spent six years (1981-1986) taking pictures of Hussain and his family. At Zakir Hussain Maquette, an exhibition being held at Mumbai’s Artisans’ Gallery until February 9, many of Singh’s pictures are now on display. During the show’s opening, looking at a picture of him and his

father, Hussain says: “I remembered what he said to me that day, and found it hard to maintain my composure. Reliving my life in slow motion, I only thought that all that was given to me had immense value.” Ustad Allarakha did more than just further the tabla’s import. In his hands, the tabla was the instrument of a master, not an accompanist. Hussain used his inheritance to then fill our concert halls.

Hussain’s annual calendar includes at least a hundred concerts. This number, for him, is proof that the space given to classical music in the world has grown, not diminished. “We must remember that Indian music is not for the stadium. It’s a chamber form of music, so to go from a small baithak of 100-150 people to a hall filled with 3,000 people is a big leap,” he says. With Indian artists now touring the world regularly, Hussain believes it’s time we look at them as global musicians. “When Indians abroad come to see Pt Shivkumar Sharma,

Hussain, who plays over a hundred concerts a year, feels classical music is evolving

Pt Hariprasad Chaurasia or me perform, they know we have made a name for ourselves globally, and that, in some way, we have all made them proud,” he says. Unlike other forms of music where artists play as ensembles and orchestras, possibly without knowing one another, Hussain believes that Hindustani classical music and jazz hinge on a certain intimacy. In the past 15 years, he has noticed his partnerships with the likes of Sharma, Chaurasia and Amjad Ali Khan fully mature. “These are relationships that have simmered over decades. We know one another, what the other likes and doesn’t. This adds a wholly different dimension to our music.” The list of Hussain’s collaborators is long. It spans four generations, from Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan to Niladri Kumar: “I feel like I am a 2,000-year-old man, who after hanging out with Jesus and Mohammad, now tells stories of what they said.” Earlier this month, Hussain and jazz great John McLaughlin again came together in Kolkata. Shakti, the band they formed in 1974, has now evolved into a quintet, but the two founders, dexterous as they once were, continue to reinterpret classical and jazz templates with the same rigour. “What I’m glad about is that we have dropped ‘fusion’ from our vocabulary. That’s a word for the laboratory, not the stage,” says Husain. In 2019, he also performed alongside the likes of Béla Fleck and Dave Holland. “Whatever label you give it—world music, fusion or new age—music, at its core, has the same creative process.” Hussain speaks with a drawl that is conspicuous and American. Having spent a large part of his recent life in the US, he says he has come to love the libraries, parks and gardens you find in the West, but he still refers to Mumbai, the city of his birth, as “home”. He says, “I meet musicians here and feel we are part of this global renaissance. This is where I recharge my creative batteries. It’s my musical spa.”