The maestro’s family has confirmed that the 73-year-old succumbed to complications arising from idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis.
Had been hospitalised for the last two weeks after having cancelled his tour midway due to his ailment.
His condition worsened before he was moved to the ICU earlier and passed away shortly thereafter.
Zakir Hussain’s passing is personal.
That he was a musical genius who owned rhythm and time, was synonymous with the instrument and had won multiple awards including six Grammys, everyone knows.
What most people will never know — how humble, humorous and respectful he was to everyone around him.
I’ve had the honour of meeting him many times — and have always come back feeling blessed.
I remember three instances in particular, where I was gobsmacked by him as a person
1. He was a cricket fanatic! Would never miss any opportunity to follow the game, or even play it. But he told me, once, as a child, when he was playing with his friends his father walked towards him and gave him a tight slap. He was told, you can’t hurt your fingers. No matter what! You have to take care of them. The pain of how tough this sacrifice would be on a young boy, reflected on his face as he narrated the story. This tells you about one of the many sacrifices one has to make for success. It’s not about the things you do, it’s also about the things you don’t.
2. This one time, I got the opportunity to meet him before a concert. He was obviously busy with the pre-concert preparations and had just enough time to grab a sip of coffee. It was then, that a gentleman much older than him entered the room. Zakir bhai was not only courteous enough to get up from his chair and escort him in, he was profusely apologetic about something as simple as consuming coffee in front of him, “Maaf kijiyega, main aapke saamne coffee peene ki zarurat kar raha hu, sir” (“forgive me as I am having coffee in front of you, sir) were his exact words. He didn’t sit till the gentleman was in the green room. Tells you about the respect he had for elders.
3. Another time, I curiously asked him — why in a multi-person concert, does he always sit on the side, facing other musicians and never the audience front on? He said very casually, the true nature of the tabla is that of an accompaniment. It’s not the headline, but a side note. I was again floored by his humility. He was never one to show his skill off unnecessarily. He was a master of the craft, but still the servant of his profession. The focus was always on enhancing the concert, one beat at a time. He took his craft seriously, never himself.
His wit, onstage jokes, dealing with the many technical problems in live shows with laughter and banter, puns and the camaraderie he had with the audience told you how humble he was despite the oodles of talent he had.
This time, sir, we won’t hear you play again after shouting our lungs out with “Once More”
We’d meet each time with the promise of an on-record interview the next time he visited. Alas! That day never came and the regret of not doing it, I’ll forever have.
Thank you for gracing this earth with your presence Sir! Heavens await their favourite child.
May you Rest in Rhythm, Zakir Hussain Qureshi, because that’s where you find peace.
Prayers for the family. Condolences and strength in this time of utmost grief.
