For the world, Pandit Ravi Shankar meant India and vice versa. He took India overseas and brought the world to this country through his music. His death is a massive loss to not just the classical music fraternity and the country, but also to the rest of the world.
Who would have imagined in the 1950s that an Indian classical musician would one day play amongst some of the biggest names in the world of rock and roll, and would still hold his own. Having a vision was one thing, but he managed to execute it in a way that hasn’t been replicated with such success ever since.
We’ve been friends for decades now. I consider myself to be lucky that Panditji spoke to me like a friend, an elder brother and a guide. A large-hearted man, it was his nature to focus on only the positives that life had to offer. He was loving and was always ready to have a good time. His jovial nature was legendary, but so was his serious commitment to classical music. One doesn’t need words to define his music; he was legendary and farsighted. I was happy I got to know him as a person, a family man, a guru, a husband and a doting father.
Panditji hadn’t been keeping too well for quite some time. In April 2011 I had decided to go and pay him a visit at his home in San Diego. I called Chinamma (his wife) and told her that I would be coming to visit him. She informed him about my visit. When I reached there, she said that he was awake for a good three hours past his sleeping time just to see me. That’s just who he was. Deeply attached to people and with so much love to spread. I was immensely touched with his enthusiasm and affection.
On another occasion, my daughter Durga had invited him to grace an awards function and to be the guest of honour.