Rakesh Chaurasia was not expecting the Grammy. In fact, with just minutes left for the ceremony, the virtuoso flautist was not even sure if his troupe had reached the venue. Tabla maestro Zakir Hussain had just flown in after a concert and, fighting jet lag, reached just in time. “My family was expecting it, but not me,” said Chaurasia, who won two Grammys on the night―one for the track ‘Pashto’ (Best Global Music Performance) and As We Speak (Contemporary Instrumental Album). “I was wondering how I would face my family if I lost. Until the moment I got it, I did not know the Grammys were so huge.”
He had flown from Mumbai to Los Angeles alone to “play it safe”. “I did not want to make a mockery of myself in front of my family,” the 53-year-old said with a laugh. A few minutes after winning, Chaurasia had called one of his disciples, Bharat Raj B., and asked him how his practice was going. “There he was, at the biggest stage in the world for music, and yet, there was no over-the-top excitement in his voice,” said Bharat. “It was as if, in a fraction of a second, he had already moved on, and was thinking about getting on with more practice to polish himself further.”
Listening to As We Speak, it feels as if the quartet―Chaurasia on flute, Hussain on tabla, the Americans Bela Fleck and Edgar Meyer on the banjo and the double bass―is talking to each other through their instruments. Across a dozen songs, they take the listener on an immersive journey that shifts between the complexities of Indian ragas and the high-octave beats of bluesy bass lines.
For Chaurasia, As We Speak was a stroke of serendipity. While he was on tour in the US with Hussain, whom he calls Zakir bhai, the latter was scheduled to meet Fleck and Meyer. “He suggested that as I was there, I should meet them,” he said. “So we were at Zakir bhai’s home in San Francisco and we all kept jamming together from 10am to 7pm.”
The trio, which had already earned global fame, was figuring out if the flute could be part of their music. Chaurasia, though, simply could not understand their music―their instruments were constantly singing while he needed gaps to breathe while playing. “My flute was a contrast to their instruments, which I realised was exactly what they were looking for,” he said.
Songs for the world: (From left) Zakir Hussain, Edgar Meyer and Rakesh Chaurasia at the Grammys | AFP
They then called him on stage during a bluegrass festival in San Francisco, as a guest, only for two songs. “I was surprised to see close to 70,000 people for this kind of music, which we are not too familiar with in India,” said Chaurasia. “But there, things are different. In Hindustani music, we are trained to improvise, as if we have been given the Google Map showing us the way, and it depends on us which route or detour we choose to reach the destination. But there, the room for improvisation is limited.”
The group toured for a year before they decided to cut an album―12 songs in two days. So, in between tours, in Fleck’s huge studio in Nashville, Tennessee, the group recorded the album with zero post production. Everything was live. For someone who had spent more than half his life practising under the tutelage of his legendary uncle, Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia, aka Pandit ji, this was not a problem. “Yet, I have only reached up to his knees as a flautist,” he said. “He always has something new to give as a performer. When I used to accompany him on stage, I remember how he would change the plan as per the audience profile, and that was entirely different to what we had discussed in the green room.”
Both Chaurasias have long collaborated with Hussain, with Rakesh accompanying his uncle for many performances as a child. The first time he played solo with Hussain was in Scotland, about a decade ago. “Bhaiya (Chaurasia) was very nervous; he told us he closed his eyes and played just about 10 minutes with the tabla as he was that scared. Then Zakir came to him and said, ‘Don’t you like to play with me?’... that is how it started,” said Bharat.
Teachings of a lifetime: Rakesh Chaurasia with uncle Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia | PTI
And now, in a recent tour, he did 17 concerts in 20 days with Hussain and the group. They travelled in a trailer with no stopovers, covering 1,500 miles. “Their work ethic is crazy,” said Bharat. “They can afford to take a gap of one month between each concert, but even after achieving everything that a musician can think of, they are like, ‘Why waste time, let us do more’.”
We are at Chaurasia’s duplex in Mumbai. White is the dominant colour. A temple on level one with a Saraswati idol and Krishna holding the bansuri adds a sense of calm. Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia’s unpolished 42-inch bamboo flute adorns the wall. Chaurasia’s wife, Nandani, is busy arranging the bouquets that had come home the previous evening when the society threw him a celebration. “We have never had so many flowers before. I just do not know what to do,” she said.
Continued Chaurasia: “I am very low profile. I have never tried for any Indian award either. Many still consider me a child who is vying for the limelight in the shadow of his uncle.... They even remarked on how we could get a Grammy. But now, I am realising the importance of knowing how to market and sell yourself.”
With disciple Bharat
This is evident in the way he functions―there is no PR or secretary. His disciples read his emails and messages, and his son teaches him the tricks of technology; he struggles with social media. Bharat, an IT engineer from Mysuru who handles the flautist’s communications, once told him he had replied to 7,500 messages on the maestro’s behalf, to which Chaurasia cheekily replied, “Send me the bill.” “All I know is how to play the flute and that I think should suffice,” he said with a smile.
To that end, he looks after his fitness with rigour. “After all, it is in the genes,” he said. “I cannot remain without a good workout whenever possible.” The Chaurasias are known to have been a wrestling family, with the senior Chaurasia being the first to turn to music. “Once, I was with Rakesh bhaiya in a hotel and was nicely hogging,” said Bharat. “I saw him eating only a single serving of upma. He said if you keep eating loads as a performing artist, your health will go for a toss and there will be no stamina to perform. He eats only two meals a day. One meal is only fruits, and one complete meal.”
Like his uncle, Chaurasia has also been in tune with Bollywood. Aur Pyaar Ho Gaya, the 1997 film starring Aishwarya Rai and Bobby Deol, was a landmark in Chaurasia’s career because he established, alongside Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, his own trademark style of playing the flute in Bollywood.
However, he said he misses the spark of the old stuff. “It has become monotonous,” he said. “Music should be situation-based, which used to happen earlier. There is a missing link between the film and the songs.”
Bollywood aside, the two Chaurasias have a lot in common. “Both are lefties, both begin practice early in the morning and go on for hours, both tell disciples to have a Plan B ready before taking up music, and both believe in saving money and never indulge in self pity,” said Bharat.
Chaurasia has told both his sons about having a Plan B, too. He himself never thought of it as a career himself. “I did it for sheer passion,” he said. “I would just copy my babuji. I would wear a kurta, take my position on stage, and spray water on myself to show off my sweat, similar to his. Each time, he would tell me to not leave my job. Sleep less if you must, but do not leave the job for music.” That is the advice he gives his disciples, too. The Chaurasias run a gurukul in Mumbai where they mentor a limited number of students in a five-year residency programme.
“Once, when I told him that I am not playing to my heart’s content, he told me about how Pandit ji would leave Bombay at 5am, reach Chennai to record with Illaiyaraaja and others, reach Hyderabad for another recording before moving on to Bangalore for a 4pm recording and then end with a 10pm stint with Bollywood composers,” said Bharat.
That work ethic is ingrained in Chaurasia. In fact, he is still uneasy and restless and yearns for more. “Some time ago, he told me he was contemplating going on chilla (spiritual practice of solitude) for 40 days because his practice was not up to his expectations,” said Bharat. “Imagine!”