In the Maestro’s Voice

Zakir Hussain: A Life in Music is perhaps the only written record of the tabla legend’s life in his own words. In an interview with ON Stage, writer and documentary filmmaker Nasreen Munni Kabir looks back on the book which took shape over two years and numerous conversations, rich with memories and a sense of openness.

By Snigdha Hasan

ON Stage (OS): Conversational biographies are a wonderful medium for bringing candour and authenticity to the telling of a person’s life. How different are they from traditional biographies and what led you to choose the conversational way for many of your books, including those on Lata Mangeshkar and Gulzar saab?

Nasreen Munni Kabir (NMK): The idea of the subject using their own words, with their own turns of phrase and vocabulary, adds another layer for the reader to get a more intimate sense of the subject, without the questioner coming in the way. These “biographical” conversations are not strictly interviews focusing on the “here and now” but aim to provide a much larger picture. Though a full autobiography or biography will go into far greater detail, asking questions has the added element of surprise. Subjects like Lataji and Gulzar saab have led such richly creative lives and very busy ones, that by using prompts to recall certain events, memories that may have been forgotten, or thought of as irrelevant, could be triggered.

I am sure that my documentary background led me to choosing the conversational format, as opposed to the route of a straightforward biography. I have made over 100 television programmes on a number of Hindi cinema personalities, in which the interviewees faced the camera and answered questions, and this proved most engaging. When it came to writing books exploring the lives and experiences of artistes and performers, I found that the same question-and-answer format allowed readers to feel they were in the room listening to the subject talking.

When it comes to the final book, fact-checking remains important, even if the subject is telling their own story, because memory can be faulty and is always selective.

OS: How did Zakirji come to be the first musician beyond the realm of Hindi cinema to be the subject you chose?

NMK: To be very honest, I had done so many interviews with film people and, having a film background myself, I felt that I was not learning anything new. Though I love music, I am not a musical expert in any way, so to be able to talk to Zakirji was a selfish act—because here I could learn about classical music and the world in which it is practised from a true master. With Zakirji’s background in teaching, he was used to answering perhaps “naïve” questions and explaining intricate concepts with great clarity.

I figured there must be many like me, who love Indian classical music but don’t have a technical understanding of it. So, for them, this book might have opened the doors to both learning something about Zakirji’s mastery over the tabla and hearing about his experiences accompanying many of the world’s best musicians. I hoped that this book would give a unique record of anecdotes and an insight into his wonderful personality, and all this, in his own voice.

OS: Once he agreed to the book—you fondly remember him calling it ‘a leap of faith’—you spoke to Zakirji for over 30 hours, spread across two years and three countries. What was your initial impression of him as a person, beyond the musician you had seen onstage in earlier years? 

NMK: It was only through the kindness and generosity of Ayesha Sayani and Sumantra Ghosal, who introduced me to Zakirji, that he considered me at all! When we all met, I gave him some of my books and, a few days later, he called to say I could go ahead. Yes, he did say it would be a leap of faith because I was not an expert in Indian classical music but quickly added that he did not want our book to be an exercise in how to play the tabla.

Zakirji was extremely alert, deeply intelligent and had a great sense of humour. I felt he was watchful and observed the smallest details of a personality. He listened carefully, spoke openly when asked a question and could simplify complex musical concepts. Perhaps this is unsurprising because this attention and alertness was among his many skills when accompanying a variety of musicians of all backgrounds and traditions— whether that be Ravi Shankar, John McLaughlin, Ali Akbar Khan, Herbie Hancock or Armando Peraza—he knew where they would land next. And he’d be there—on the beat.

OS: People who have interacted with Zakirji often speak of his perceptive abilities and phenomenal memory. Did that make him an interviewer’s delight?

NMK: Yes. He could so easily recall his own past and shared many charming incidents when interacting with world-class musicians. The way Indian music is taught requires an impeccable memory. How would he otherwise have remembered and played umpteen variations within talas? What was striking about him was his ability to communicate his love for his art and his deep respect for other musicians and musical traditions from many parts of the world.

OS: You have spoken about being as invisible as possible to make the subject visible (the book does not start with a question from you; the very first words are Zakirji’s), but it was your questions that deftly steered the conversations. Could you tell us about the research that went into the book?

NMK: The reason why I feel it’s necessary to become invisible is a wish that the reader connect directly with the subject, meaning I have to get out of the way. Even in my documentary work I do not keep the questions in and only cut to the answers. I have also avoided voice-over narrative, to allow the subjects to speak for themselves, rather than a “voice of authority” guiding viewers’ understanding.

As far as research is concerned, I read many interviews with Zakirji and saw interviews in which other artistes spoke of his talents.

OS: How do you look back on the arc of those 15 to 20 sessions? Today, your book is perhaps the only written record of Zakirji’s life in his own voice. 

NMK: I feel privileged that he gave me time over two years and grateful for the openness he showed to the process. The various meetings between us took place whenever Zakirji could spare any time. One session was in Antwerp, where I travelled from London for an evening, as he was there performing with the [American jazz band] Sun Ra Arkestra. Another interview happened during the three-hour drive between Mumbai and Pune. I would record his answers and they would be transcribed later. These conversations turned into the final book.

The key person who made the book possible was his wife, Antonia Minnecola, who helped enormously with fact-checking and editing. I do not think this book would have been possible without her help.

It is a shame there are not more publications on Zakirji, as he had so much more to share. His passing is a terrible loss. I still find it difficult to believe.

Nasreen Munni Kabir will be in conversation with Sumantra Ghosal at the Experimental Theatre on 14th December as part of Maestro Forever: A Tribute to Zakir Hussain

This article was originally published in the November 2025 issue of ON Stage.