One almost invariably tends to assess the achievements and quality of life 
of a person posthumously in terms of whether that person died sad and lonely or happy and contented. 
 
Last week, Ustaad Bismillah Khan, the Shahenshah of the shehnai and one of the greatest of musicians of our times, breathed his last. It is tough to 
say whether he died happy or unsatisfied. 
 
In the evening years of his life he had a large family of sons, daughters, grandsons and granddaughters, great grandsons and great granddaughters, numbering almost a hundred to support, and was said to be close to absolute penury. Shekhar Gupta of the Indian Express often recalls that the Ustaad is the only guest till date who asked for money to appear on his NDTV’s Walk the Talk show. Frequent appeals to the government for a gas agency for his son never yielded promise. The government had to more than once hold special charity concerts featuring the maestro, the proceeds of which went into running the Ustaad’s kitchen. 
 
Yet, when asked why he never accepted generous offers of relocating to the USA with family, Bismillah Khan used to ask the offer-maker to also relocate his Benares with its Ganga and the riverside Kashi Vishwanath temple with him or else forget about it. 
 
Whenever asked about his music and why he did not play more shows, his 
patent answer was - "I only blow into the shehnai, the rest is taken care by 
Him," in his self-effacing and sincere manner. 
 
One therefore wonders why a man who had the capability to enthral audiences across the world even with an octogenarian body always held himself back from financial prosperity. Today when Indian Classical Musicians have reached a stage where they can afford to throw tantrums about travelling in nothing less than business class and staying in five-star hotels, it is ironic that the senior-most among them often ended up commuting in Sleeper class railway to reach venues. 

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It was as much a joy to listen to Bismillah Khan speak about music, as was in listening to the music itself. Simple but arrogant in thought, he was a sure-shot draw at SPICMACAY events in the country’s schools and colleges. I recall having attended three of his lecture-demonstrations across a time period of ten-years - one in school, the second in college and the third as a journalist in Bhopal. It was a treat to watch him connect to the youngest in the crowd, make them laugh by teasing them, then move on to address adolescents and then ever so smoothly to the middle-ageds. At the end of each one, everybody would be calling him ‘dadaji’ (grandpa). 
 
One would deduce that blessed with a venerable gift of the gab, Bismillah Khan must be a great teacher. In fact, in the world of classical music, it is said that although one has to be fortunate to get a good teacher, one has to be even more fortunate to get a good disciple. But in that respect, Ustaad Bismillah Khan was not so fortunate. He does not leave behind any disciple worth the name.

Over the years, a shehnai recital by Bismillah Khan became the standard opening statement to start the proceedings of the day at India’s Independence Day and Republic Day celebrations. It became impossible to think of a marriage scene in a Hindi film or TV serial that did not have Bismillah Khan’s recording of raga Malkauns in the soundtrack. Actually, it became omnipresent at every Indian marriage ceremony - the tape-player that the loudspeakers are connected to invariably has a Bismillah Khan cassette turning away, emanating the auspicious strains of shehnai that our ears so take for granted on such occasions. A studio recording of his shehnai recital always appeared on Doordarshan before the live telecast of the Republic Day parade at India Gate. Yet, the legend’s wish to perform at the India Gate never came true.