For me, awards like the Grammys are a beautiful acknowledgment but they are not the benchmark by which I measure my music. In Indian classical music, the true benchmark has always been riyaaz, depth of understanding, and surrendering to the raga. Recognition on a global platform certainly helps bring our tradition to wider audiences, and for that, I am grateful. But it does not and should not alter the core intention behind creation. All along, I never felt the need to “live up to” a legacy, because there is simply no way to replicate the phenomenal repertoire created by our gurus and legendary masters. Instead, I focus on how I can continue learning and imbibing the vast knowledge that the lineage offers. Awards may celebrate a moment; the parampara sustains a lifetime… Once joy enters the process, the burden disappears.
Your Grammy last year for the album ‘As We Speak’ came for a collaboration with Ustad Zakir Hussain. How would you describe the personal and artistic loss of not having him around, not just for guidance and collaborations but also as a friend and fellow musician.
My Grammy came alongside the legendary Zakir Hussain ji, and sharing that journey with him was a blessing. His presence was not just musical, it was deeply reassuring, guiding and inspiring. Not having him around leaves a void that is both personal and artistic. His wisdom extended beyond rhythm; it touched the philosophy of performance, humility and spontaneity. When you sat with him, you didn’t just perform, you evolved. At the same time, his teachings and spirit remain. The guidance of a maestro like him continues to resonate in every collaborative space I enter. In that sense, he is never truly absent; he lives on in the taal, in the dialogue, and in the courage to explore.
The album was also a collaboration with American virtuoso banjo star Bela Fleck and famed bassist Edgar Meyer. Could you talk about working with them?
Collaborating with Béla Fleck and Edgar Meyer was an extraordinary experience. When artistes from different traditions meet with sincerity and respect, something very organic happens. In such collaborations, there is always a framework, just like in Indian classical music, we have the raga, the mood, and the time. But within that structure, everything becomes instinct. When maestros come together, listening becomes more important than playing. The music unfolds in the moment, guided by trust, sensitivity and a shared surrender to sound. We continue to stay connected creatively and whenever schedules align, we explore new possibilities. These collaborations are not about fusion for novelty; they are about finding common ground where traditions converse naturally.
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On your ongoing tour, you have collaborated with Ut Shujaat Khan on stage for the first time. How has the experience of working with him been?
Sitting alongside Ustad Shujaat Hussain Khan is not just a privilege, it is sheer joy. His gayaki ang on the sitar carries immense emotional depth. Working with him feels less like collaboration and more like conversation. At times, it almost feels as if the flute merges with the sitar, creating an ethereal sonic experience not just for us as performers but for the audience as well. When two musicians deeply rooted in tradition meet, you listen more. The raga becomes the true guide. The audience often senses this shared trust, and that is when something magical happens on stage.
AI is becoming more present in music. In fact you’ve said that your tone and your guru’s tone are already “taken”. Do you see AI as a threat, a tool, or simply a reminder of what makes human musicianship unique?
AI can replicate tone, patterns and perhaps even stylistic elements but it cannot replicate lived experience, surrender or breath-awareness. The bansuri does not respond to force; it responds to honesty. I see AI less as a threat and more as a reminder of what makes human musicianship unique. Our imperfections, silence between notes, emotional states — these cannot be programmed fully. Technology may be a tool but the soul of music remains deeply human.
What are you working on at this time?
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At present, I am deeply engaged in refining my repertoire, exploring nuanced interpretations of traditional ragas and nurturing the next generation of flautists. I see curiosity and fearlessness in younger musicians today, which gives me great hope. They have access to vast knowledge and influences but the real test remains depth, patience and riyaz. If they remain rooted in discipline while exploring freely, the future of the bansuri is in very good hands. My son, Hritik, recently performed alongside me and received encouraging reviews. Watching him evolve reminds me that lineage is not about pressure but about continuity with joy.
The concert will take place at Bharat Mandapam on February 21 in Delhi. Tickets on bookmyshow
