S he was seven when she picked up the miniature sitar her father had got crafted for her. She was 14 when she began to tour the world, performing with him. And, she was 17 when she released Anoushka, her first album.
Anoushka Shankar is now 35, and touring India, previewing her latest and ninth album, Land of Gold . In all the years she spent finding music and herself in it, what preceded her quest was being a Shankar; the daughter of Pandit Ravi Shankar ‘the godfather of world music’ (as George Harrison called him).
So, how much of her music is inheritance and where does individuality come in? Even if she’s thinking “Oh, not again”, you can hardly detect ennui in her sharp answer. “I can’t put a percentage on it. Legacy is something abstract. You don’t know if you have measured up to it or not. The fact that I am his daughter and his student is part of me. But, not all of me,” says the five-time Grammy nominee.
The sitarist’s hazel eyes brighten as she talks about how people enjoy her experimental work — when she steps away and does her own thing. “They seem to love it. Then, there are those who come to my shows to hear my father, expecting me to be a clone. It’s tricky, because I can only be who I am. Every project that I take on, I make sure it resonates with me and comes from my heart.”
Raised to be strong and confident, Anoushka did not battle hard to live in the shadow of a famous father. “Why should we see it as shadow? Isn’t it sunlight?” she asks. “That takes away much of the pressure. Some remains, though,” she smiles. “What you make of such a life is up to an individual. You could be a pessimist, who refuses to see the advantages and opportunities that come from this relationship. Or, you could use your skill and passion to turn it around and make it your own story.”
So, how did she forge her identity? “Whenever I perform a piece of music, I keep asking myself: is it good enough, can I tell people I am good enough? And, I realised it’s never going to sound good if it does not emerge from a place of offering, which is the soul. Then, it doesn’t matter who you are. What matters is what you are doing and with how much integrity,” she says, succinctly.
Anoushka has been very open about her efforts to deal with these situations. She knows any failure will be played out in the public glare. She says she derives strength from her training, extensive travels and artistic exchanges. “That’s how I have explored my art form, the Hindustani classical, and many others from around the world. Collaboration has always existed. If you love other cultures, you are bound to look beyond your own,” she says, running her fingers through her wavy hair.
Creativity, for her, does not stop with sound; it encompasses human realities and emotions. For instance, Land of Gold is her response to the recent refugee crisis. Sitting within the “comforts of home”, she watched on television thousands of men, women and children desperately seeking a safe place to stay. The visuals left her so disturbed she headed to the studio to express her anguish.
“I now have dreams for my two sons to just be happy,” says the svelte sitarist, who had her second son, Mohan, a year ago. “We call him Mow. Soon after my first son Zubin was born, I understood it was not going to be easy balancing parenting and work. Soon, my experiments with sound and sons began going hand-in-hand,” she laughs. “Motherhood has made me more sensitive and expressive. My sons often travel with me on my tours. This time, though, I have left them with my mom in Delhi.”
Married to British filmmaker Joe Wright, Anoushka, who is based in London, feels what gives their relationship the edge is strong individual creative profiles. “Life or art, nothing can replace love,” she says, adding “Everything else is salad dressing.”
