'It’s heartening to feel how deeply people love Zakir,' says Antonia Minnecola, the late maestro's wife
Ustad Zakir Hussain was not merely a virtuoso of the tabla; he was one of the most influential musicians of the 20th and 21st centuries, a rare artist who carried the language of Indian classical rhythm into a global conversation. Trained under the legendary Ustad Alla Rakha, he combined an extraordinary command over taal and improvisation with instinctive musicality, collaborating effortlessly with maestros such as Pandit Ravi Shankar, John McLaughlin, Yo-Yo Ma, and ensembles like Shakti.
Deeply rooted yet endlessly expansive, his artistry bridged traditions while remaining universally accessible, earning him iconic international stature. Yet, last year, when Ustadji passed away on December 15, the world mourned his loss—an ache that travelled across continents, leaving countless listeners heartbroken.
To honour his legacy, NCPA organised a two-day celebration and tribute concert, Maestro Forever, bringing together his enduring musical companions. Guitarist John McLaughlin, pianist Louis Banks, vocalist Shankar Mahadevan, and long-time collaborators Ranjit Barot, Ganesh Rajagopalan, and Fazal Qureshi shared the stage, joined by fellow percussionists, students of the Punjab gharana, and Zakir Hussain’s family members. Together, they created a vibrant, living continuum of his musical legacy, blending classical mastery with improvisation, joy, and spontaneity—the very qualities that defined the maestro.
On his first death anniversary, Antonia Minnecola spoke to Indulge Express of presence as much as absence—of coastal roads he loved to drive on, friendships that shaped a lifetime, and a musician whose joy lay as much in living as in performing. Beyond his virtuosity, she remembers Zakir as a teacher, collaborator, and man deeply in love with people, whose legacy lives on through memory, mentorship, and music.
You are in Mumbai for Ustad Zakir Hussain’s barsi. What does being in the city at this moment mean to you personally?
Being in Mumbai for the celebration of Zakir’s life in music at the NCPA on December 14 and 15 was a very, very emotional experience. It was deeply heartening to feel the love people hold for him, even as it’s difficult to accept that he’s not here with us.
Mumbai has always been our home—certainly Zakir’s first home. To see the city now, becoming more beautiful, more alive, reconnecting with friends, made it all the more moving. I kept thinking of how much Zakir would have enjoyed it—driving on the coastal road, something he loved, watching the city grow and flourish. It has been an intensely emotional time.
Beyond his brilliance on stage, what aspects of Zakir Hussain as a human being do you hope people continue to remember?
For decades, Zakir was always teaching. He deeply wanted to establish an institute, but his life was filled with touring, recording, performing, workshops, and seminars. He taught at several universities as well, either in music departments or as a special lecturer, but he could never quite stay in one place long enough.
We kept working towards this dream, and we finally received our non-profit status in March—bittersweet, because he wasn’t there to experience it. Now, Anissa, Bella, the students, and I are carrying this forward. We’ve already begun projects and will continue with workshops. We recently presented Yogesh Samseji’s workshop, and on March 6, we’ll collaborate with the World Music Institute at Carnegie Hall to mark what would have been Zakir’s 75th birthday.
Just two months after Zakir passed, we also held a beautiful celebration of his life and music with SFJAZZ in San Francisco. Artists who loved him came together, and there was even a dance performance—a stunning pas de deux by Lyon’s Ballet.
When you see Dayanita Singh’s photographs drawn from decades of shared moments, what emotions return most strongly for you?
Looking at Dayanita’s photographs, so beautifully curated, the entire exhibition is deeply moving. I first met Dayanita just after the birth of our second daughter, Bella. My mother was with us, and one day Dayanita arrived with her camera. I asked Zakir who she was, and he said, “She’s coming to stay with us. She’s going to take photos.”
Over time, I came to know her and her wonderful family. When I look at those images now, I see Zakir’s humanity—his love for people: his family, his friends, his audience, and the great musicians he was fortunate to play with throughout his life.
I love the panel with Shivkumar Sharmaji, and the photographs from the ITC tour through the Sangeet Research Academy in Kolkata. Zakir was playful and mischievous, always joking. Except for music, it was hard to get him to be serious. He believed in letting things flow, in spontaneity. That was his gift—being fully present in the moment.
On a lighter note, Zakir also became a household name through the iconic Wah Taj ad. Any fond memories around that?
Zakir was very aware that the Wah Taj commercials introduced him to a whole new audience. I remember travelling with our daughters in the late ’90s—driving from Delhi to Agra and Fatehpur Sikri. Everywhere we stopped, people surrounded the car. It was overwhelming. He would laugh and say, “This is all because of that commercial.”
Later, I read a piece in The Wall Street Journal about how the campaign gave the brand a fresh identity, which really touched me.
When I first met Zakir, he was a tea drinker. Over the years, with all the travelling across Europe, America, and Australia, he developed a love for coffee—cappuccinos, lattes, flat whites. At home, we drank coffee, but he always served tea. In Mumbai, there were always boxes of Taj Tea—served by Ammaji. Even in California, we made sure to serve it.
Yes, he did develop a bit of a coffee habit—my mother had to gently rein that in.