When Vinta Nanda met young tabla virtuoso Keshava, he opened up about his life, from a toddler with rhythm in his steps to a global journey of music, loss, and discovery.

Tabla prodigy Keshava Kaarthikeyan has travelled an extraordinary path, from his early days in Pondicherry to the global stage of the Commonwealth Games, his studies in Portland, and Vienna, and his encounters with legends like Ustad Zakir Hussain. In a candid conversation with Vinta Nanda, Keshava and his mother Gopika Dahanukar shared memories of childhood rhythms, pivotal teachers like. Arup Chattopadhyay and. Yogesh Samsi, and the challenges of growing up between cultures. His story is not just about mastering tabla, but about identity, and the dream of carrying rhythm across the world.

Early Rhythms and First Encounters

Keshava’s musical journey began almost as soon as he could walk. His mother, Artist Gopika Dahanukar, recalls that as a toddler he had a peculiar habit: he would clap rhythmically as he walked, as if his steps already carried a beat. At around eighteen months, his maternal grandmother, the late Prafulla Dahanukar, noticed how instinctively he could reproduce rhythms by tapping on a table and insisted he be given a tabla, despite his tiny fingers. Against all logic, a full-sized tabla set was bought for the little boy. That gesture, his mother says, set the course of his life.

Keshava’s first conscious memory of the tabla goes back to Pondicherry, where, as a two- or three-year-old, he remembers spotting the instrument in his room. It felt oddly familiar, as though it had always belonged there. Soon after, he began playing seriously, copying rhythms and experimenting in ways that were uncanny for his age. When he was five, his stepfather Nadaka entered his life, bringing with him a unique instrument he had created. Together they began to jam, with Keshava picking up the art of accompaniment for Carnatic music almost intuitively.

Breakthroughs and Mentorship

By six, he was already performing in Auroville. A chance video recording of one of these early concerts caught the eye of filmmaker Bharat Bala, who invited him to play at the opening ceremony of the Commonwealth Games. Gopika remembers her initial hesitation—how could such a small child stand before millions? To make it easier for him, she reframed it "you are a small part of a big show in Delhi" sparing him the pressure of the truth. And so, unaware of the magnitude of the moment, Keshava stepped onto a stage with 1,200 drummers and played fearlessly. The only thing he asked his mother afterward was, “Did I play well?” The Games catapulted him briefly into the media glare, with journalists clamouring for interviews. His simple, repeated response to every question—“happy”—became a story in itself.

Back home in Pondicherry, he began to realize what had happened only when neighbours told him they had seen him on television. Life shifted dramatically when, at nine, his family moved to the United States. The culture shock was real, but within months he had settled in and joined the Portland Jazz Youth Orchestra, picking up drums, xylophone, and other percussion instruments. For a time he stepped away from the tabla, immersed instead in jazz and Western rhythms. Yet by eleven, walking with his mother in a San Diego park, he confessed that he truly wanted to learn tabla seriously. Gopika had resisted finding him a teacher until the desire came from him, and now it had. He began his formal training with Arup Chattopadhyay of the Farrukhabad gharana, later also studying with disciples of Zakir Hussain.

Loss, Lineage, and Discipline

Zakir Hussain loomed large in Keshava’s life, both as an idol and eventually as a mentor. He met him as a child at concerts, and later at a masterclass in San Francisco where Zakir spoke about the universality of rhythm and the importance of respecting tradition in collaboration. Keshava also had the chance to perform with him in a Tata Capital advertisement, playing buckets and pencil boxes alongside other children, and even briefly Zakir’s own tabla—an unforgettable moment.

Another deeply personal turning point came when Keshava’s maternal grandmother passed away on his birthday. He was only eleven then, still balancing jazz rehearsals with tabla lessons in San Diego. That loss, he says, gave him a sharper awareness of time and lineage, of what it means to carry forward traditions.

It was around the same period that he first voiced to his mother that he wanted not just to “play” tabla, but to learn it in earnest — a declaration that shifted his musical life. His mother’s patience played a quiet but pivotal role throughout. For years she resisted pressure from friends to place him under a formal guru, believing that the commitment had to come from him. “I wanted it to be his choice,” she says.

That intuition proved right: when he was ready, he tells me, he embraced his teachers wholeheartedly, from Arup Chattopadhyay in San Diego to Yogesh Samsi and Chandrashekhar Gandhi back in India. Those connections, alongside the influence of Zakir Hussain’s concerts and masterclasses, gave him both technique and vision. Even during the difficulties of COVID, when schooling fell away and exams were cancelled, music became his anchor. He describes those years as a flood of repertoire — countless kaydas and relas absorbed, practiced, and internalized.

Vienna and the Road Ahead

As a teenager back in India, his maternal grandfather’s death and the long COVID-19 lockdowns marked a period of uncertainty. Cut off from conventional schooling and facing the challenges of high school equivalency, he turned deeply to music. Encouraged by maestros like Suresh Talwalkar, he eventually came under the guidance of Yogesh Samsi and Chandrashekhar Gandhi, immersing himself in the Punjab repertoire and building a formidable command over kaydas and relas during those years of confinement.

In 2021, the search for a way forward led him and his mother to Europe. A visit to Vienna left him with a strange but powerful sense of belonging. Applying on the strength of his talent, he wasaccepted into theJAM Music Lab University's Entho Percussion Program with the conservatory of music.

The first year was challenging—not artistically, but in learning to live alone, manage his own life, and adjust to the demands of a new culture. With time, and under the mentorship of teachers like Peter Gabis, he flourished, expanding his repertoire beyond tabla to frame drums, darbuka, djembe, conga, and cajón.

Now, three years into the program, Keshava stands at a threshold. He is considering extending his studies into a bachelor’s degree in improvisation, a path encouraged by his teachers who see his depth of talent. His dream, he says, is simple but profound: to travel the world, carrying the tabla and his art across borders, sharing rhythm with audiences everywhere. For him, the journey is not only about mastery of instruments, but about living through music, travelling, and constantly discovering new expressions of sound.

Long flights, he laughs, have even become something he looks forward to — quiet spaces where he can dream of the next stage, the next rhythm, the next audience. For him, the tabla has never been a static tradition. It is a passport to the world, a way of turning personal history, discipline, and serendipity into music that belongs to everyone.

Know more about Kehava here: https://www.ragamantra.com/keshava-tabla