Santoor player Rahul Sharma on Zakir Hussain: He played his first concert with my dad and the last one with me

Rahul Sharma with Zakir Hussain during their last concert together

We performed seven concerts in the USA. Our last concert was in Urbana, Indiana, on October 30 this year. The following day, we were to perform in Columbus, Ohio. So, we drove all night, covering a five-hour journey, and reached Columbus at 5 am. We were set to perform that evening, but at around 11.30 am, I was informed that he was being checked into a hospital because he wasn't feeling too well.

He had bouts of coughing while we were on the tour. I was telling him that he needed to address it. He said he would when he had some time and that he needed to get an X-ray done. We tried to see him when he was admitted but couldn't go. But he was taken right in front of us.

Our remaining two concerts were cancelled, and I flew back to India to be in touch with the family. His tests were fine, and he was discharged. Then, they flew to San Francisco, where he was being treated. This was about 25 days ago. As we speak, I am in Gwalior because I was performing here. When I heard the news, I was [taken aback]. The news was not confirmed by the family, and we were trying to get in touch with them. He was still alive. He passed away this [yesterday] morning in IST.

He was a true legend, a superstar in the truest sense. Yet he was humble, learned, knowledgeable, and a great conversationalist. He wasn't only aware of music but knew about all worldly matters. Off stage, we never had any communication on music. We'd discuss food and travel. He leaves behind a legacy, not just in Indian classical music but in the music scene itself. There will never be another Zakir Hussain.

He was an artiste who would constantly innovate and move ahead with the times. When our tour began, I asked him how he was touring nonstop. He said he had been busy after COVID and that he had only been on the road. The human body can't take this kind of travel. And as artists and musicians, we travel a lot. So, it's not easy on the body. While travelling, he did seem exhausted, but that was not unnatural because his schedule was like that of a 30-year-old. But, while playing, one couldn't tell (the difference). He'd hit the crescendos and go super fast.

His first concert was with my dad (Pandit Shivkumar Sharma), and the last one was with me. It seems he had a connection (with my family). Since he was a teenager, he began performing with my late father. At times, my parents would even fetch him from his college because he was so young!

He would arrive at my home unannounced because he'd say, ‘Why do I need to announce that I am coming to my own home.' That was the kind of relationship we had. I've seen him as a happy-go-lucky person. He would want [us] to even celebrate the fact that he's not here. He was just that kind of person. He had that energy and vibe.

We have done so many tours in the US and India. He was always fully attentive as an artist on stage. When a tabla player performs, he accompanies other musicians. The attentiveness with which he would hear the other artists playing so that he could complement that was remarkable. At times, people would simply go through the grind because they'd done it so often. But he was true to his art and didn't care really about what the audience thought. He would enjoy his music, and his personality was such that the audience just loved it.

So, yeah, the transition has been great, but he treated everybody with respect, so whether it was a famous person or not a famous person who would invite him, you know, he had the deepest humility, and that's something to learn from him, even when you achieve such great success. On stage, he was immediately likeable. He was the kind of artist who had it all, not just as far as his personality was concerned but also when it came to his talent and innovations. He dabbled in all genres of music, whether it was Indian classical or fusion, via (his band), Shakti. Such people are born once in a century.

He acknowledged the fact that tabla players probably did not get their due earlier on, about 50 years ago. And he single-handedly created a space so big that even solo tabla concerts happen today.

My fondest memory of him traces back to 1994. I had only begun performing on stage, and we were doing an intricate taal. After the concert, he slipped a $100 bill in my pocket. He said, ‘What you did was very good. I know you're going on a USA tour. Spend it there.' That was pretty special to me.