Interview With Sitar Maestro Purbayan Chatterjee On His Latest Work With Snarky Puppy's Astounding Guitarist Mark Lettieri, And His India Tour
The sitar maestro tells ETV Bharat that the goal of fusion music is not to dilute traditions, but to let them illuminate each other.
Published : May 11, 2026 at 11:15 AM IST
There are musicians who seem to belong to a room, and then there are musicians who somehow belong to weather. You do not merely hear them; you enter their atmosphere. For decades now, sitar virtuoso Purbayan Chatterjee has occupied that rare and curious territory. He arrives at this particular chapter of his life as Indian classical music finds itself in an unusual moment: admired globally, endlessly sampled, often misunderstood, and yet gloriously alive.
There are few musicians better equipped to navigate this paradox than Purbayan, a man who speaks the ancient grammar of the Senia Maihar Gharana as fluently as he converses with electric guitars, jazz improvisers, digital technology and audiences who may first meet a raga through a streaming platform before ever hearing an alaap.
Born into a musical household and trained first under his father, Pandit Parthapratim Chatterjee, before coming under the towering influence of the legendary Ustad Ali Akbar Khan, Purbayan’s artistic life has always resembled a careful balancing act. One foot planted firmly in lineage. The other wandering, inquisitive. He absorbed the meditative lyricism of Pandit Nikhil Banerjee, studied rhythm under tabla maestro Pandit Anindo Chatterjee, and immersed himself in vocal training with Pandit Ajay Chakraborty. Yet what makes Purbayan fascinating is not simply that he mastered tradition. What makes him compelling is his refusal to embalm tradition inside glass.
This June, he releases Feathered Creatures, a cross-cultural collaboration with Grammy-winning guitarist Mark Lettieri of Snarky Puppy, a project that promises not merely a meeting of sitar and electric guitar, but a negotiation between musical worlds often suspicious of one another. The duo will also perform the album live in Kolkata, where audiences will likely discover that music behaves differently when trust exists between risk-taking musicians.
There is another curious intersection of worlds unfolding. For the much-anticipated Beatles biopic, Farhan Akhtar is set to portray sitar maestro Pandit Ravi Shankar and is collaborating closely with the Purbayan Arts and Artists Music Foundation (PAAMF). As though all this were not enough, from May through June, Purbayan embarks on a six-city India tour alongside an exceptional ensemble featuring flautist Rakesh Chaurasia, tabla artist Ojas Adhiya and percussionist Shikhar Naad Qureshi. Beginning in Pune on May 23 and travelling through Kolkata, Surat, Nagpur and Chennai, the tour promises those elusive evenings where improvisation occasionally becomes revelation.
In conversation with ETV Bharat's Kasmin Fernandes, Purbayan Chatterjee reflects on the thrilling risks of Feathered Creatures, the invisible thread connecting collaborators as different as Zakir Hussain, Pat Metheny and Béla Fleck, and why music still possesses the power to change something invisible inside us.
Q 1. You come from the Senia Maihar Gharana lineage shaped by Allauddin Khan. How do you personally negotiate the tension between preserving that inheritance and reshaping it for contemporary audiences?
Tradition is not a museum piece, it’s a living language. The Senia Maihar Gharana gave me a sense of discipline, emotional depth, and respect for the architecture of raga. But every generation must also speak in its own voice. I see contemporary expression not as rebellion, but as continuation. If the roots are strong enough, the branches are allowed to grow in new directions.
Q 2. Your training under Ali Akbar Khan and exposure to the style of Nikhil Banerjee are evident in your music. At what point did imitation give way to individuality?
In the beginning, imitation is devotion. You absorb the nuances, the phrasing, the silences, almost like learning a sacred language. But individuality arrives when you stop trying to sound impressive and start trying to sound honest. Over time, I realized that influence should illuminate your voice, not replace it.
Q 3. Your upcoming project Feathered Creatures with Mark Lettieri explores sitar and electric guitar. What excites you more: the possibilities or the risks?
Honestly, both excite me equally. The possibilities are thrilling because they allow completely new textures and emotional landscapes to emerge. But the risks are important too, they keep the music alive and unpredictable. Safe music may be comfortable, but it rarely leaves a lasting impact.
Q 4. As you embark on an India tour, which set are you looking forward to the most?
We’ll be performing across several cities in India, each with its own musical energy and audience temperament. That’s one of the beautiful things about touring, every concert becomes a different conversation. I’m especially looking forward to the performances where spontaneity can take over completely. Those are usually the evenings where the music surprises even the musicians.
Q 5. Many young listeners encounter raga music today through fusion or film before they hear a traditional alaap. Do you see this as dilution or as a valid new entry point into classical music?
I see it as a perfectly valid entry point. Every listener enters music through a different emotional doorway, and fusion or film music can often spark that first curiosity. If someone discovers a raga through a soundtrack and eventually finds their way to a traditional alaap, that journey is meaningful. Classical music has survived for centuries because it adapts without losing its soul.
Q 6. In a fast-scrolling, short-attention-span world, how do you sustain the patience that raga demands—both for yourself and your audience?
Raga itself teaches patience. It asks you to slow down, listen deeply, and surrender to gradual emotional movement. Ironically, in today’s hyper-speed culture, that depth feels even more valuable. I’ve found that audiences still respond powerfully when the performance is sincere. People may consume content quickly, but they still crave experiences that feel timeless.
Q 7. Your collaborations range from Zakir Hussain to Pat Metheny and Béla Fleck. What’s the invisible thread that connects these seemingly different musical worlds for you?
Curiosity is the invisible thread. Great musicians, regardless of genre, are always searching rather than defending boundaries. Whether it’s Zakir Bhai, Pat Metheny, or Béla Fleck, the joy comes from listening intently and responding honestly. The language may change, but the emotional intent behind music remains remarkably universal.
Q 8. With albums like Unbounded – Abaad, you move across jazz, Sufi, Latin, and classical traditions. When does fusion become confusion and how do you avoid that line?
Fusion becomes confusion when identity disappears. I’ve always believed that collaboration should feel like a meaningful conversation, not a collision of sounds. The goal is not to dilute traditions, but to let them illuminate each other. As long as emotional truth and musical integrity remain intact, experimentation can become something beautiful.
Q 9. You’ve experimented with the electric sitar and even created the “Dwo.” What limitations of the traditional sitar were you trying to overcome?
I was never trying to replace the traditional sitar because its acoustic beauty is irreplaceable. But every instrument evolves with time and context. The electric sitar and the Dwo allowed me to explore sustain, stage dynamics, portability, and sonic flexibility in contemporary settings. In many ways, I was simply extending the vocabulary of the instrument.
Q 10. The latency-free global performance you did during the pandemic was groundbreaking. What role did you see technology playing?
I see technology primarily as a tool, and occasionally as a collaborator. Technology can help music travel further, connect artists globally, and create experiences that were impossible before. But it should never overpower the emotional core of performance. Like a good accompanist, technology works best when it supports the music quietly and intelligently.
Q 11. With projects like The Sitar Stories, you place the sitar in a global narrative. What has surprised you most about how international audiences respond to it?
What surprises me most is how instinctively people respond to the emotional quality of raga, even without understanding the grammar behind it. Audiences across the world connect deeply with sincerity and emotion. I’ve realized that music often travels faster than language or cultural context. That has been incredibly moving to witness.
Q 12. Through initiatives like Shastriya Syndicate and Classicool, you’re actively shaping the next generation. What do you think young Indian classical musicians are getting right today, and what are they getting wrong?
Young musicians today are wonderfully fearless. They are open to collaboration, technology, and global influences in ways earlier generations were not. But the challenge is that algorithms reward speed and visibility, while art rewards patience and depth. The real task is to balance innovation with rigorous inner growth.
Q 13. Your project Sukhino Bhavantu positions music as a tool for global unity. Do you genuinely believe music can create social change, or is that a romantic idea artists tell themselves?
I genuinely believe music can create change, although perhaps not always in dramatic political ways. Music changes emotional states, and emotional states influence human behaviour. A song may not rewrite policy, but it can soften anger, create empathy, or inspire reflection. Real social change often begins in those invisible inner spaces.
Q 14. You received the President’s Award at just 15. Did early recognition create pressure or freedom?
It created both. Recognition at a young age opens doors and gives you confidence, but it also creates expectations that can become psychologically heavy. For a while, there’s a fear of disappointing people. Over time, I learned that growth matters more than maintaining an image of perfection.
Q 15. Do you feel you are still searching or have you found your musical voice?
I sincerely hope I’m still searching. The moment an artist feels completely ‘found,’ the possibility of growth begins to fade. Music, for me, has always been an evolving conversation with emotion, silence, and curiosity. The search itself is what keeps the art alive.
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