On an uncharacteristically cool April evening, I stepped out of Banani’s blaring traffic and neon haze into a dimly lit room tucked within a commercial building and almost cinematically shifted from chaos to a melodical hush. A small audience leaned forward, captivated by the spell of an ensemble that included an esraj, a sarod, a jazz guitarist and a drummer, and a vocalist whose voice moved without language, just sound, rhythm, and improvisation. The music was neither entirely classical nor jazz nor fusion, but something looser, more exploratory, alive to the moment.
On an uncharacteristically cool April evening, I stepped out of Banani’s blaring traffic and neon haze into a dimly lit room tucked within a commercial building and almost cinematically shifted from chaos to a melodical hush. A small audience leaned forward, captivated by the spell of an ensemble that included an esraj, a sarod, a jazz guitarist and a drummer, and a vocalist whose voice moved without language, just sound, rhythm, and improvisation. The music was neither entirely classical nor jazz nor fusion, but something looser, more exploratory, alive to the moment.
