The Prodigal daughter
By Ramesh Kallidai
Everyone knows Ravi Shankar, the doyen of the Sitar and the darling of the West – but how many people have heard of Anoushka, his daughter? I had seen her once on TV – looking very traditional and ‘Indian’ in her elegant Salwar-Kamiz, while her father cuddled her affectionately on camera.

But the young lady whom I met at the offices of Media Moghuls in Wembley looked like a completely different Anoushka. With permed hair, designer jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt showing two inches of her waist, she resembled a catwalk model more than a Sitar player. But hello, what are Sitar players meant to look like, anyway?

“The Ravi Shankar that the world knows is the musician. But I know him as the father,” she said when I asked her about her famous Pita-Shri. “I grew up listening to his music, and started playing the Sitar when I was 7 or 8. ”

Her mother Sukanya had married Ravi Shankar when Anoushka was seven years old. After the marriage, she had requested her stalwart husband to teach baby Anoushka the Sitar. Ten years and 80 solo concerts later, the world now has a star musician whose schedule is as packed as the maestro himself.

Anoushka’s current project is a biography of her father entitled ‘Love of my Life’. “It describes the cuddly side of my father,” she explained with a gentle smile. “The first half of the book is chronological, but the second half describes him in his various personalities – as the creator, the achiever, the man and the joker.”

I asked her how she related herself to her father’s friend, the late George Harrison. “He was like my uncle, my mentor and my Dad’s son,” she said fondly. “We spent the last days of his life with him.” At the concert organised in memory of George Harrison early this year with Sting, both father and daughter played pieces in his memory, beginning with the first piece that Ravi Shankar had taught the famous Beatle.

I wanted to ask Anoushka how George could have been her uncle, if he was like her father’s son, but decided prudently to keep my mouth shut. Then I remembered -  Ravi Shankar was nearing 80, while Anoushka herself was only 20.

What did she think of the current British fixation on Bollywood and all things Indian, I asked her, trying to change the subject quickly so I could stay out of mischief.

“One year it will be Latin, the next year it will be Bollywood,” she laughed. “In London, people know about my culture, and its really nice,” she added. “But in California they know very little about India. In London, everyday is different - there are so many things I can do. But in San Diego, I have a mellow life – I just relax and practice my music.”

In the meantime, she is booked for concerts until the fall of 2003. I couldn’t help being impressed with her talent, energy and devotion - a sure sign that she will follow in the footsteps of her illustrious father.

“Oh, which language does your mother speak?” I asked as a parting shot.

“She is a Tamil Brahmin from Trichy,” she explained, “And I speak Tamil myself.”

“Oh really!” I exclaimed. “I am an orthodox Tamil Brahmin myself. Fancy that.”

She didn’t seem too impressed.
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