Starstruck, Despite Myself

I think I forgot to mention the time I met Hariharan ji — the ghazal maestro of our time.

I genuinely didn't think I'd be that starstruck - But I was wrong.

It happened in February. Hariharan ji had an entire world launching that day — a book, an album, and a ghazal show, all on one single evening. My ma'am was in talks with him for her PhD interview on Ustad Ghulam Mustafa Khan Sahab — who was Hari ji's ustad, and also my guruji's nana. That's the thing about these gharanas — the threads run deep, and they connect people across generations in the most beautiful ways.

So sir and ma'am were invited to the event. Two days before, while the three of us were eating out, sir finished talking to ma'am, turned to me, and casually said he was giving me a birthday present — he was taking me along to meet Hariharan ji.

The day came. We went. We were called into the green room where he was mid-shoot, recording a background report for the upcoming launches. We waited. And then, when he wrapped his shot, he turned around — warm, present, genuinely happy to see sir and ma'am.

I took his blessings. And then I just... stood there. Watching. Taking in the aura of the man. There's no other word for it — aura. It was my first time being in the presence of a legend of that scale, and all my confident "I won't be that astonished" energy dissolved the moment I was actually in that room.

It was quiet, brief and nice. The kind of moment that doesn't announce itself as a memory — but becomes one anyway.