Two Precious Hours with the Living Legend: Pt. Hariprasad Chaurasia and his musical wisdom
Some moments in life don’t just stay with you—they shape you. My two-hour encounter with the legendary Pt. Hariprasad Chaurasia ji was one such moment. It wasn’t just a meeting; it was a glimpse into the life of a master, a saint, a seeker, and an eternal student of music.
I had the privilege of singing before him—a moment as nerve-wracking as it was sacred. His presence was magnetic, not because of any pomp or show, but because of the simplicity and serenity he radiated. Though he holds the title of Pandit, there was not an ounce of ego in the room. He listened like a child with wonder, smiled like a sage with contentment, and blessed like a guru with pure intent.
We sat for lunch together after the musical interaction, and those conversations over a simple meal were more nourishing than the food itself.
A Silent Nudge, A Soulful Song
During the musical session, I sat down at the harmonium, quietly accompanying the flow of sound. I wasn’t sure whether to sing or just play. I was soaking in the sacredness of the moment, just being in his presence.
But then, something beautiful happened.
Pt. Hariprasad Chaurasia ji turned toward me and, with a soft, loving gesture, asked—without words—“Why aren’t you singing?” It wasn’t a demand. It was an invitation.
That small nudge was all I needed. I began to sing.
And in that moment, I wasn’t singing to him—I was singing with him—with his listening, his energy, his silence. It felt as if the music in me had received permission from the divine to be expressed.
The Boy Who Dived into the Ganga
Pt. Hariprasad Chaurasia ji was born in Prayagraj—the city of sangam, where the Ganga, Yamuna, and the mystical Saraswati meet. As a child, he often dove into the sacred Triveni Sangam, soaking not just in water, but perhaps in something deeper—destiny.
When I asked him why he chose the flute, his answer was profoundly simple:
"Because it needed no tuning, no expense. Just take a piece of bamboo and make your own."
This humility is the soul of his genius.
A Flute, a God, and a Gurukul
Chaurasia ji believes the flute chose him—not the other way around. He once said, “Shrikrishna selected me to play the flute. I just followed his will.”
That divine calling gave birth to Vrindavan Gurukul, his music school where tradition flows like the Yamuna—slow, deep, and sacred. Built not just as a place to teach music, but to carry forward the bhava (emotion), the healing, and the spirituality that music offers.
He believes music is more than an art—it’s a medicine, a prayer, a path. In his presence, these aren’t just poetic thoughts, but lived truths.
What I Took Back
In those two hours, I didn’t just meet a flautist—I met a bridge between sound and silence, between performance and prayer. I sang, I listened, I learned—and I remembered that the most powerful things in life are often the simplest. A bamboo. A breath. A note.
Pandit ji reminded me that music doesn’t just entertain—it heals. It doesn’t just express—it elevates.
And sometimes, it just takes two hours with the right soul to realign your entire journey.
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