In the realm of Indian classical music and dance, humility is not just a virtue — it is the very soul of artistry. Despite their extraordinary command over tala, raga, or abhinaya, the greatest of our maestros have always carried themselves with a deep sense of grace, modesty, and reverence. But what makes humility such an inseparable trait of a great artist?
The Indian tradition teaches that true knowledge humbles. The Bhagavad Gita (Chapter 13, Verse 8) lists humility — amānitvam — as the first of the qualities of a wise person:
अमानित्वमदम्भित्वमहिंसा क्षान्तिरार्जवम्
(Humility, unpretentiousness, non-violence, forgiveness, uprightness…)
This ancient wisdom underscores the belief that the more one learns and evolves, the more one realises how vast the ocean of knowledge truly is. Indian classical arts, steeped in spiritual depth and centuries of tradition, nurture precisely this realisation in every sincere practitioner.
Legendary sitar maestro Ustad Vilayat Khan once said, “Art is not about ego; it is about surrender.” This surrender — to one’s guru, to the divine, to the discipline — naturally fosters humility. Similarly, Bharatanatyam legend Rukmini Devi Arundale often spoke of dance as a medium of self-effacement, not self-display: “In dance, the ego must dissolve into the rhythm of the universe.”
A powerful example of such humility is seen in the life of Pt. Bhimsen Joshi. Despite being one of the most towering figures in Hindustani music, he would always refer to his peers and seniors with deep respect, never allowing accolades to distance him from his roots. He remained devoted to riyaaz (practice) even into his old age, famously saying, “No one can ever claim mastery over music — you can only keep striving.”
Similarly, the late Guru Kelucharan Mohapatra, who revived and redefined Odissi dance, was known for touching the feet of his students after performances, saying, “I see the divine in those who carry my art forward.” His gesture was not theatrical but came from a deeply spiritual place of gratitude and humility.
This humility is also born from the understanding that classical art is not about the artist, but about the parampara (tradition), the sadhna (dedicated practice), and the rasika (audience) who becomes one with the performance. A true artist recognises themselves as a medium — a sadhak rather than a star.
To younger generations stepping into this world, these examples offer a timeless lesson: that excellence in classical arts is not marked by fame or recognition, but by character. The ability to remain grounded while soaring high is what truly sets apart the greats from the merely talented.
As Guru Maya Rao once said, “A humble heart creates space for divine expression. Arrogance only builds walls.” Indeed, the heart of a great artist is not filled with pride, but with reverence — for the art, the audience, and the journey itself.
