Lotus Feet

At the intersection of Carnatic classical music and jazz improvisation, this piece opens with a quality of reverence — John McLaughlin's acoustic guitar tracing melodic lines that feel borrowed from the veena tradition, while Zakir Hussain's tabla establishes not a beat so much as a breathing pulse beneath everything. The tempo is deliberate, almost meditative at the outset, but the architecture is deceptive: there are internal rhythmic cycles, tihai patterns, that pull the listener forward without ever rushing. The emotional register is devotional in the deepest sense — not the devotion of a Sunday hymn, but the kind that arrives after long practice, worn smooth like river stone. L. Shankar's violin enters with a tone that is simultaneously keening and serene, bending notes in the Carnatic style so that each pitch feels earned rather than struck. The piece is about surrender — the lotus feet of the title pointing toward the divine feet of a guru or deity, the music itself an act of prostration. It belongs to that remarkable 1970s moment when the distance between Madras and New York felt collapsible, and a small group of musicians decided to find out what lived in the overlap. Reach for this in the early morning, when the light is still gray and the day hasn't yet made demands on you.