Wah, Ustad! (Farewell to the Eternal Maestro of Rhythm)

Sad day marking an immeasurable loss for the world of music – Ustad Zakir Hussain embarks on his other-worldly journey, leaving millions of broken hearts behind.

Ustad Zakir Hussain was a magician – for decades, he captivated us with his magic of creating “sur” from “taal” (melody from rhythm). Music wasn’t just a part of his being; it defined him, it was his essence, flowing through every fibre of his musical soul. From the audience stands, one could feel it, almost tangibly.

His mastery at his art was par excellence. His understanding of rhythm, beats, taal, every matra, its divisions and sub-divisions was unparalleled. It often felt as though he bent the very fabric of time, weaving intricate patterns that left listeners spellbound. He played songs on the tabla (yes, he did, it’s not a typo). He could play something as simple as a teentaal with so much variation and intricacy, that one would be wondering what taal this is! At his hands, the percussion instrument became a storyteller, narrating tales far beyond words.

Watching Ustad Zakir Hussain perform was an unforgettable experience. His fingers danced on the tabla with such speed, that they appeared not moving at all, like a hummingbird’s wings. But even at that speed, the precision they achieved created crisp beats of such divine purity, that they cast a spell on the audiences. The vigorous shake of the head, the bouncing back and forth of his hair in sync with the rhythm, the animated expressions on his face as if he were cajoling his fingers to move and the sound to emanate, and finally the chlidlike joy that lighted up his face when the instrument responded to his touch with the perfect sound at the precise instant he wanted – every concert was not just an auditory but a visual delight. It carried the unmistakable zest of a man so deeply and completely in love with his art, it brought unbridled joy to all who experienced it.

Yet, beneath this monumental genius lay an extraordinary humility. He carried himself with a simplicity and warmth that mirrored his soulful music. Always respectful and grounded, he was a beacon of grace in a world that often struggles with celebrity egos. Who can forget the image of him humbly shouldering Pandit Shivkumar Sharma’s bier—a poignant testament to his reverence for art and fellow artists and his humility as a human being?

It was this rare groundedness that ensured he never stopped being a student of his craft, always exploring, discovering and evolving. This insatiable curiosity kept his music youthful, ageless and endearing to fans across generations. His concerts radiated positivity and a pure joy of life. My own first encounter with his live performance, back in college during a SPIC MACAY event, left me mesmerized—and a devoted admirer for life.

The last time I witnessed him live was just four months ago, on August 15 in Singapore. Bringing together percussionists from across the world, he delivered 90 minutes of pure bliss to a delighted audience at the Esplanade Theatres, inspiring with his boundless talent and electric energy. When the performance drew to a close, I rose to my feet to pay my respects, along with the entire auditorium. Little did we know it would be our final opportunity to do so.

My heart sank as I read the news this morning. I sought solace in a short recording from that day (now a highly cherished memory), to feel his joie de vivre. He was so alive, so full of life that day, as always.

He, like his music, can never die. He will forever live in our hearts and our ears, in every rhythm, every beat, every bol executed on the tabla, always evoking the same response – “Wah, Ustad”!

Musingly Yours.