I met Panditji a few times and I was struck by his humility despite his huge reputation. He was an extraordinary human being. Anybody would be embarrassed by his simplicity.
Another feature of his that struck me was his patience. He had it in abundance, and used it to give great care to details in anything he did.
I had the fortune of attending his concerts both in India and abroad and was spellbound by his singing. I was grateful that he sang for a documentary that I had done on Jawaharlal Nehru. It was in the early 1980s and I had asked him to do a rendition of lalit and marva raagas.
When he came to the studio, my music director wanted him to do it to a particular beat. A man of Panditji’s stature could have just shut him up. But he was such a great soul that he did not. Instead, he, with remarkable patience, explained to the music director precisely why the raaga would not work if he sung to that suggested beat.
I thought it was extraordinary for him to do that. He went on to sing, and marvellously. His singing of marva was simply great. I wanted him to sing when Nehru dies in the documentary. As is known, marva is a daytime to sunset raaga. The daytime optimism gives way to thoughtfulness as the sun goes up and into sunset. Panditji rendered it in such a way he made it emotionally an extraordinary raaga.
I did occasionally meet him and my meeting last meeting was about two years go when I went to see him at his Pune home. I remember that despite his incredible pain, he sat up and spoke a little and offered me traditional hospitality. His family was present and he made it a point to serve me sweets. He wanted to do it himself. I cannot forget the love and affection he showed even at that age and despite ill health.
Panditji deserves every bit of love and affection that the country has given him. For he gave much to the country. He richly deserved the Bharat Ratna bestowed on him.
(Benegal is a renowned film-maker)
As told to B S Arun