Sitting cross-legged, cradling his Santoor, quiet, contemplative, introspective, his eyes seem focussed on an inner vision. And as his nimble fingers coax fragile, mellifluous sounds out of those delicate strings one cannot help but get transported to another dimension... One admired the way he showered(notes) like rose petals, teasing permutations with a thoroughness that revealed his technical as well as his aesthetic competency. Statesman (Delhi. August 10, 1989)