0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 5 6
A Pathway to Knowledge
had met, but speaking with Stefan and Zakirji’s other students about
him took on a new significance. Always they spoke of him with much
love, joy, and excitement in their voices. We all intensely desired to
be around him, learn from him, walk with him, and talk with him
about tabla and life.
After arriving in Seattle, we drove directly to the home of Emam,
a senior student of Zakirji. Although Emam had been learning from
Abbaji since 1979 , he shortly thereafter took up studies with Zakirji
as well. Emam and Zakirji have formed a deep and close friendship
over the years. Emam followed Zakirji to classes in California; spent
time with him on tour in India, protecting him from over zealous fans;
and now, along with another senior student, Tor, was helping set up
classes in Seattle. Emam greeted us, as he usually did, with a big hug
and a smile. Eventually, we got out our tabla to practice. The after-
noon went by quickly as we sat cross-legged on the floor in front of
our tabla playing with rhythm.
Soon it was time to pack up the tabla and powder and head out
to class. We made our way to the University of Washington cam-
pus where our tabla lessons were to take place. We found the music
room on the second floor, left our shoes at the doorway, and claimed
our spots on the wooden floor in front of a portable blackboard. The
room was empty except for a riser at the front by the windows. Others
wandered into the room, set up their carpets and tabla, and started to
warm up. Emam brought in Zakirji’s tabla, a carpet for Zakirji to sit
on, pillows, and some food to eat. He took special care in setting up
Zakirji’s space on the riser at the front of the room. In fact, Emam al-
ways made sure that Zakirji was comfortable. Was he getting enough
sleep? Was he eating well? He always looked out for his teacher and
friend. He made it his job to see to as many details as possible so that
Zakirji could rest and relax.
Tor walked in with his tabla. Constantly telling stories and crack-
ing jokes, his robust laughter filled the room. He knew everyone in the
room. It took him a while to get by everyone to the front of the riser.
Most of the people in the room were his own students from Seattle.
Others had traveled from Portland and points in between. They were
Americans of all types, some were Japanese American, some Irish, and
