Pt Ravi Shankar bids adieu to Bangalore

The tickets were long sold-out, yet a few, remained close-by, in case a space miraculously opened-up. This was not a concert that could be missed.

The concert opened to a performance by Anoushka Shankar, who set the tone for the evening with an opening recital in the puriya dhanashree raag. Celebratory in bits, but more turbulent as a whole, the evening darkened further as sitar strings echoed the sorrow that could be felt in the controlled-staccato breaths of the 1,000 and more gathered.

The mood was lifted for a bit as flautist Ravichandra Kulur and Anoushka ended the first recital in a playful , slowly lightening the mood. Bringing in joy further was the second piece that was purely Carnatic in format and featured exceptional mridangam percussion by Pirashanna Thevarajan.

This mood of celebration was furthered by the Carnatic-inspired vachaspati or bhushavati recital that followed. One leg of this historical concert was now over and as Anoushka quite succinctly said, “I could have had no greater honour than to have opened for my father in this concert.”
The break over, the gathering found their way back and melancholy soon filled the air again. The pandit was finally here and for the last time. Time stood still as the pandit entered stage — followed by a rapturous applause. The last performance had begun.

Pandit Ravi Shankar opened his farewell performance with a sitar-centric piece that reminded every one of why he is one of the world’s finest and most-revered artistes.

The pandit, though aged, looked as energetic as ever — his full beard covering most of what we all recognise as his handsome silhouette. Several fans were seen shedding quiet tears, knowing fully well that Bangalore shall never again hear these heavenly sounds played live again.

The well-paced recital soon evolved into a subtle jugalbandi between the father and his daughter and in bits it almost seemed like their sitars were in conversation with each other.

This was soon followed by one of the pandit’s most famous compositions, a recital in his very own raag tilakshyaam. Just when the raag became far too melancholic for anyone to hold back tears anymore, the pandit foresaw the need for humour and humoured an indulgent audience.

“Sorry to be so unmusical,” the pandit smiled and said after he coughed into the mike. The pandit then cleared his throat and continued into the next performance. A recital in raag khamaaj ensued followed by a passionate jugalbandi between the percussionists Tanmoy Bose (tabla) and Pirashanna Thevarajan (mridangam). Needless to say, the gathering erupted and the excitement of the finale began.

The last piece was an ode to everything that defined the pandit and what a piece it was!

The pandit took special caution to thank each musician on stage and brought back smiles to several tear-ridden faces, poking fun at Anoushka, calling her, “my mother, my daughter,” and adding, “I need to read these names, I don’t trust my memory.”

The finale was goosebump inducing. Several fans could be seen extremely restless in their seats, heads held in their hands, eyelids holding back tears.

As the last few moments of the recital approached, Sanjeev Shankar burst forth with shrill notes in crescendo on the shehnai — and we knew it was done.

The end was finally here, and though it did seem larger than life and wonderfully celebratory, what it most seemed like was a grand Indian wedding — a wedding that auspiciously solemnised the bonds between the city of Bangalore and its favourite musician — a marriage of sorts, truly made in heaven.