Zakir Hussain — Learning to Learn is, at its heart, a love letter, both to a maestro and to a city. After Hussain’s passing in December 2024, the exhibition drew Dayanita Singh back into a long-untouched archive of bus rides, green-room whispers and family moments gathered across their friendship.
Rooted in Mumbai, where a young Zakir studied at St. Michael’s and St. Xavier’s and first found his rhythm, the show unfolds through nearly 300 images arranged in Singh’s mobile museum structures. What emerges is a tender portrait of the discipline, joy and lifelong practice of “learning to learn” that he gifted her.
Opening at the NCPA, the exhibition feels less like a show and more like a homecoming — for both the artist and the man who helped shape her.
In conversation with Indulge Express, the photo artist opens up…
How did your relationship with Zakir Hussain evolve over 40 years of photographing him?
I’ve been photographing Zakir for as long as I’ve been a photographer; from the very beginning, he quietly became my mentor. He taught me the discipline of remaining a student — the rigour, humility and joy that sustain a life in the arts.
He had an extraordinary gift for making everyone feel seen, whether it was a fan he met once or someone who knew him only from the ‘Wah Taj’ ad. That’s why his passing shook even those who had never watched him perform.
On stage, the moment the tabla touched his hands, he stepped into another realm and drew everyone into his happiness — that was his true magic. I still remember him seeing my work in 2011 and texting, “Very proud to see you at the Venice Biennale.” I teased him, “See, now even I am a star,” and he replied instantly, “I hope you never start to believe it.” That was Zakir — generous, playful, grounding — and the greatest teacher I could have asked for.
What was the most emotional or challenging moment while creating this memorial show?
There were many emotional challenges. I still struggle to accept that this year we are mounting the exhibition without Zakir inaugurating it. How do I believe that we will stand at the NCPA on his birthday and he will not be performing? It breaks my heart. He was supposed to perform in Kolkata and then visit the NCPA in January this year.
I was even speaking to him about coming to my exhibition. And then, by the time the exhibition opened on December 15, 2024, he was gone. Giving a speech about my work on top of that was far more difficult than anyone could imagine. As I was struggling internally, I heard a voice within me say, “Just get on with it,” as if his spirit was speaking to me. And I did — I went on to deliver a 40-minute talk.
It is his training and spirit that taught me how to handle it. I used to photograph backstage moments — he was the one who brought me into that world of green rooms, who taught me how artists prepare before and after performances, and where to draw the line in respecting an artist’s boundaries. All of this — his training — is what will reflect in the upcoming exhibition.
Every year, I travelled with him by road and bus across India — from Kolkata to the South, to Gujarat, Maharashtra and beyond — for concerts. I had the good fortune of observing his interactions with legends like Hariprasad Chaurasia, Shivkumar Sharma, Girija Devi and many others. From them, I learned that it is equally important to disseminate your work among the audiences who might connect with it.
Why did you choose this specific exhibition format, and what do you want viewers to feel?
Zakir was not only a brilliant musician but a remarkably sharp, quick-witted and magical human being. Through this exhibition and these photographs, I want people to discover that side of him — the warmth, the humour, the way he made each person feel special in his presence. That was an essential part of who he was, and I want viewers to experience that energy when they walk through the show.