'Ustadji, I Am Truly Heartbroken!'

Like his countless admirers, Durga Dominic was heartbroken when the incomparable Ustad Zakir Hussain left us to play wonderful concerts in the heavens.

I have had the biggest crush on Ustad Zakir Hussain since my college days, when my brother used to take me to the Gunidas Sangeet Sammelan at the Nehru Centre in Worli, south Mumbai.

That was my introduction to classical music and, though I couldn't understand much and would sometimes fall asleep through some recitals, it was also the first time I saw Ustadji's performance and was spellbound. The fact that he was such a charmer was just an added bonus.

For a few years, I attended his concerts, watching him from afar and carrying my crush with me, just as I'm sure everyone in his audiences did.

There were times someone from the audience -- mostly a woman -- would shout, 'Love you, Zakir.' And he would reply, 'Love you too.' In my head, I would whisper with a smile, 'Me too!'

That was Ustadji magic and his effect on people. He was warm, funny and he made music accessible especially to classical music novices like me.

I was incredibly fortunate to meet him in person for the first time years later, while working with Rediff.com. He had come for a chat session.

Mobile phones were not so common at the time and I didn't own one so I couldn't take a picture.

But I have his autograph which I treasure. It reads: 'To Durga. Fondest love, Zakir.'

I was on cloud 9 that day, walking around the office in a daze.

Years later, I was honoured to read his citation at the finale of the 30th Keli Rhythm music festival, held on December 13 last year.

I almost said no because of my fear of speaking in front of large audiences. But everyone told me I'd be crazy to let this go. My Amma said that opportunity knocks only once and I'd be a fool to not open the door.

I'm so, so, so glad I listened. Otherwise, I would have regretted it for the rest of my life.

I not only had the opportunity of meeting with him and speaking to him, (well, he spoke; I was dumbstruck as usual), I was fortunate enough to partake in a sadya at the same table as him after the performance.

While I was waiting in the wings with the presenter, practising my lines, he came out for the sound check before the show. When he passed us, he gave us a huge smile and said, 'I want pictures with both of you.'

He asked for pictures, not the other way around. Who does that?

As I said before, he has always been a charmer; (even in his 70s, he had the ability to charm the socks off you :-). But what really struck me that day was his humility -- such a brilliant music maestro yet so incredibly humble.

I had an anecdote I had to share in the citation, describing this very quality of his. It was about how he witnessed once a Thayambaka performance and fell at the feet of the artist because he was so moved.

But this part seemed so redundant when I had to say it because, before I could give my speech, I witnessed it firsthand.

Maestros -- there was a jugalbandi with chenda maestros from Kerala -- had gathered there that day. He embraced them and touched their feet.

I have never seen such warmth and humility from someone so great.

He was genuine. He radiated kindness and warmth. And he could put you at ease. You could feel that.

I made a mistake in my speech when I said he was from the Dilli gharana of music (he belongs to the Punjab gharana).

Despite going through the citation numerous times, this point had been overlooked.

Later, when I came to know of this error, it was also pointed out that he could have corrected me if he wanted to.

But he didn't.

Perhaps he sensed how nervous I was. I don't know... but I do think he was being kind to me.

The whole evening was such an emotionally charged one for me.

The speech that I was so nervous about seemed like such an unimportant part; I was just so blessed to be a part of it.

His solo performance, the jugalbandi... It was unreal and I felt so grateful to witness it, to be a part of it. I had goosebumps!

I am the kind of person who imagines scenarios and holds conversations in my head because, like I mentioned before, I am usually dumbstruck when it actually happens.

Everything I think I should have said comes to me in hindsight.

As recently as last week, I imagined what I would say when I met Ustadji next time. I would be articulate and express my gratitude.

I did not ever imagine that he would be gone so soon.

Ustadji touched my life with his music and made my world brighter just by being a part of it.

I know I sound sentimental, but this feels like a deeply personal loss. I am truly heartbroken.

Have you met Ustad Zakir Hussain? Do you have a memory or an anecdote you would like to share with us.

Please mail getahead@rediff.co.in about your encounter with Ustadji and the impact he had on your life. If you have pictures with him, do share them as well. Don't forget to mention your NAME and WHERE YOU LIVE.