Overused terms like ‘perfection,’ ‘brilliance’ and ‘incredible’ have nearly lost their meaning today. Art, which, by one definition, is a never-ending pursuit of the very conditions those three words denote, is now caught in a race for more shows, more likes, more viral views. This is not to say artists of earlier ages were not also pursuing livelihoods and prosperity. The difference now is that artists, often treated as deadweights in a capitalistic society (wasteful at worst and in need of “support” at best), have increasingly adopted the vocabulary of commercial hyperbole and aggressive self-promotion, since patronage is no longer seen as worthwhile unless it promises future profit. Against this backdrop, it is refreshing to be reminded of what the pursuit of perfection meant to a classical music maestro who lived in the last century. The memory of Ustad Allauddin Khan (1881–1972) continues to be invoked with reverence by classical musicians, as someone who reached heights unattainable by ordinary aspirants and who trained the iconic artists who put Hindustani classical music on the world map. A player and inventor of numerous instruments, Allauddin Khan was yet besieged by doubts about his own capacity – not from a lack of confidence, but because he never let himself forget that music is a vast ocean of knowledge. It is only fitting, then, that when Niyogi Books published his autobiography, translated from the Bengali Amar Katha by Hemasri Chaudhuri, the English title chosen was My Life: Story of an Imperfect Musician. Allauddin Khan’s life exemplified the syncretic spirit of India and Indian music, which gives this slim volume a significance beyond musical circles, especially in a country scarred by religious bigotry, scapegoating and selective historical memory. Devout in his Muslim faith, he spent his childhood in temples, absorbing the music of wandering ascetics. He spoke as freely about Goddess Saraswati as he did about his namaz.Hemasri Chaudhuri, Photo: By arrangement.Also significant is the age of the translator – a Kolkata schoolgirl. Hemasri received the Bengali original from her father, Sarabananda Chaudhuri, a musician in the disciple lineage of Ustad Allauddin Khan, in March 2024, soon after her Class 10 board exams. It set her on the road to her first literary project.If Hemasri translating the ustad’s life story has an air of serendipity, the original does too. In 1952, Allauddin Khan was narrating his life experiences to a group of devoted listeners at Santiniketan when 23-year-old Subhomay Ghosh transcribed the informal sessions. In doing so, he created a gem of a document. As Allauddin recounts his desperate search for musical excellence, what comes through is honesty, humility and unmatched grit. The ustad was 90 during these narrations, yet his connection with every listener is palpable and even seven decades later, Hemasri found the same connection to “Allauddin’s indomitable spirit and hunger.” Describing his international tours with Uday Shankar during the mid-1930s, apart from lighthearted recollections of language struggles and culture shock in Europe, the ustad’s observations reflected his cosmopolitan outlook. Relating how music and dance were valued in Muslim countries like Turkey, Palestine and Egypt, he mentioned the education and equal contribution of women there. He felt if he could take the conservative elements from India to see those countries, “then the state of Muslims in our country could have been improved.” Contrasting India’s situation with the western countries, he lamented, “Conflicts between Hindus and Muslims, untouchability between Brahmin and Shudra – such fanaticism in all spheres!” He deeply regretted not visiting Makkah, explaining that he did not go because the non-Muslim members of his group could not have accompanied him. The transcriptions, titled simply “First Sitting” and “Second Sitting,” capture, in unembellished phrases, the speaker’s frank, often humorous tone and kindliness. The disarming detachment of this musical genius in narrating both his griefs and his achievements stands out in the era of the humblebrag.The following are excerpts from an interview with the translator.In a world of shortcuts and AI, how does Baba’s lifelong feeling of musical unworthiness, despite his prodigious learning speak to you? Ustad Alauddin Khan, Photo: Wikimedia Commons.Some significant elements can be noted from Baba’s musical journey, like focusing on the art rather than chasing fame, striving for perfection, dedication, persistence, but all these for self-contentment, not fame or money. It’s not a matter of the outside realm. He was so bothered that in his whole life he couldn’t throw a perfect “Sa,” which was solely his inner pain and struggle. No AI can help with that or be concerned about his pain, because it is all about Allauddin’s quest for perfection. Does AI see perfection in the same way? The difference is, AI knows how to make things perfect, but Baba was in constant search of what perfection is and at what level his note could be called perfect. The core feeling of every art is divine discontentment. Can AI feel that? That is the challenge.Baba’s story underscores the importance of embracing an eternal journey of learning, acknowledging the complexity of art and staying grounded even after his achievements. In a fast-paced world, all of us run after instant gratification, which is temporary but Allauddin’s story is a reminder that true mastery is not in the appreciation of the outer world. AI might help in some aspects of the journey if used wisely, but it can never replace one’s own determination and true passion. It may give some useful output, but then how will the person be able to experience the journey? When the first shloka of the Ramayana, “Maa nishaada pratishthaam” came out of Valmiki’s mouth, he said, “Kimidang!” meaning, “What did I just say!” This feeling of enchantment after creating is entirely the creator’s own. It can’t be felt with the help of AI. AI might copy the human emotions related to their creation but can’t produce it. This emotion was the driving force for Allauddin and that’s why he devoted his whole life to music, kind of in a carefree way. Learning music is a sadhana (meditation), it’s a lifelong journey rather than a destination and sadhana is irreplaceable by any AI or shortcuts. On using ‘imperfect’ in the title of a book about an acknowledged genius…We constantly hear people speaking of achieving perfection. Be it in art, science or anything. We often associate perfection with success and talk about reaching perfection like it is a 100/100 score. The way Allauddin repeatedly described himself as imperfect and expressed dissatisfaction even with an ‘imperfect’ “Sa”, was very striking to me. If someone so legendary is saying that he is flawed and imperfect, then what is true perfection and to what extent can it be achieved? Actually, we may never even know what actual perfection is.As a young woman of today, any thoughts on how he ran away and spent years away from his wife, who presumably was not consulted? Allauddin left everything behind, not only his wife but every certainty in his life. His young, newly married wife, Madina Begum, probably felt ignored or maybe unloved at times, at my own age, I can understand that. But we have to consider that he left not to build a career or earn money, but only to gain knowledge and learn music, so didn’t his purpose touch her heart too? Of course, Madina Begum’s years alone were part of Allauddin’s journey as well. That’s why Allauddin’s achievements were not only his but his wife’s too. Later Baba created a raga Madan Manjari and dedicated it to her. He also named their house, Madina Bhavan, after his wife. In the Films Division documentary Baba Alauddin Khan (1965), directed by Harisadhan Dasgupta, there’s a scene where Allauddin is playing in a cheerful mood while his wife enjoys it even more. Watching it, we sense music as an invisible thread connecting the two of them. Anjana Rajan is a theatre practitioner, Bharatanatyam exponent, choreographer and teacher. She is co-founder, Art India Academy of Performing Arts, Dehradun.