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Rating: Nikhil Banerjee and Anindo Chatterjee, Rama and Krishna to bring down the rain of the Mahar Gharana.
The music is the vehicle, the players the drivers because listening to the performance of Raga Desh one dies and is reborn.
The alap is a humid monsoon, sinuous with sounds as if they fertilize seasons, so long as to stop time, embodying the eternal in the here and now.
The formal perfection of the grammar that was of the master Ustad Allauddin Khan, the supreme father, "the man in contact," has passed through the psyche in the intuitions of little Nikhil, the child prodigy, more ascetic than musician, who burned the calluses on his fingers for twelve hours a day, with few breaks.
He was given the power to flow, like a river, and this explains that technique so different from all other sitarists, almost a shamanic perpetuation of infinitesimal variations on the same theme until then, in front of the Swedish audience, Anindo joins the prayer, and for those present, it is a resurrection.
The circle as a sign: the seasons, life, death.
What most offends our ears raped by the lack of time, to feel and understand, is the idea that there exists, buried in the depths of our psyche, an ancestral secret: the sound of the mind, as is the impossible chikari, beyond music and man's own capabilities.
Not music, but religion: only that one struggles not to believe, it is not the bed of nails or the flying man. The inflamed tablas of Anindo play three or four versions at once of the "tempo" known by anyone in the West, the sitar explodes into a melody in its pure state, which is perfection and divination for thousands of years. There exists a frequency, that lights up like the waves of the sitar when they meet on resonance and laugh rubbing in mystical harmony: it is the sound on which all souls are tuned, the billions of bodies of the great spirit.
Indian sacred music played at these levels is the elevator: may the legend preserve itself eternally.
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