If one likes Indian performing arts, it was an evening to revel in. Nag and Tarangini volunteers outdid themselves. The audience was greeted with small chocolate cookies in a paper container and the choice of miniature Snickers or Milky Way candy bars offered by young girls in traditional silken saris. At the auditorium door another pretty young one dabbed a touch of perfume on the back of the hand while a charming young adolescent offered the post-meal melange of anise and sweets; reaching one’s seat to view the stage edge dotted alternately by white and red carnations and a red brocaded chair stage center, they had established the mood of pleasure. The invitation to aesthetics was augmented by the clutch of individuals in front of Row A chatting in little clumps, Westerners in definite minority.

The tribute commenced with conch shells blown on either side of the stage; one had problems. Birju emerged and was led to the chair; Anuradha approached him, executed the guru-sisha salute to the feet which she washed and dried in a ritual ancient, universally recognized. A garland of red and white flowers was draped around Maharaj’s neck; he blessed a tray of sweets. Zakir Hussein made a brief, charming salute, congratulating Birju for having past the age of 21, thanking him for gracing us with his presence. Birju kvelled.

Tarangini students, eight of them, danced a ensemble piece titled Search in Hindi, displaying the Lucknow gharana’s noted refinement. Created by Nag, the ensemble conveyed the gopis’ mood realizing Krishna had left Brindaban forever; each depicted different reactions while maintaining an interwoven line and groups of dancers. Two or three were singularly appealing and gifted; all were well schooled.

Hussein mounted the platform placed diagonally on stage right tuning his tabla, providing a brief, energetic exposition of rhythms before Birju returned to the stage in a saffron-colored tunic. It was perhaps 7; for the next ninety minutes witnessed an exchange between the two artists, friends since Alla Rakha sent Zakir to Birju in Delhi to learn playing tabla for dancers.

From Zakir’s hands and Birju’s mind came a dialogue totally immersing to the audience, reflecting the aural complexity both men shared with such mastery. Sometimes Zakir led the bols, sometimes Birju with Zakir following, Birju using his hands, gestures, a glance, his eyebrows, his bells to display the rhythm. The exchange unfolded, distinct, authoritative, delivered casually but with razor sharp accuracy. With the rest, I was mesmerized by their universe.

Through this exposition, Birju regaled his audience in Hindi, evoking frequent chuckles and ripples of laughter. The weekly India West representative said Birju commented on Bollywood stars’ frequent changes of costumes and arrivals in helicopters. More enthralling, in this half of the program, Birju imitated dialing a telephone number by gesture and the ankle bell sounds. He depicted an elephant’s tread, three species of birds, from twits to duck waddle; in a separate sequence the peacock’s quivering spread, India’s national bird, early in the monsoon.

The Lord Krishna’s love of butter has elicits wide interpretation and Birju previously regaled his audience with Krishna’s bald faced explanations of why he had swiped the butter. Returning to the theme, he dwelt as much on Yashoda, her making the butter, her cosmetics before going out after she secured the butter vessel to the ceiling. Birju, switching characters, shrank to kindergarten size, large eyes smouldering with caution and design, posture the epitome of a small, cunning boy bent on mischief, filled with injured self pity when Yashoda led him to the butter trail. To this interplay back and forth, Birju added Yashoda’s fond amusement even as she disciplined the recalcitrant Krishna. His repetitions deepened the story.

Suddenly it was eight-thirty and Zakir suggested an intermission.

Starting a bit after 9 p.m., Saswati Sen danced a memorable solo depicting Radha dressing up like Krishna, enjoying the gopis’ reverence, amused when Krishna showed up to the gopis’ confusion. Krishna told the gopis they were full of the image of Krishna; only he knew the difference. Sen had stated the music and the concept were Birju’s but the solo created its impact in Sen’s subtle facial emotion and the delicacy of the gestures created by her slender fingers, Birju singing the refrain.

In the finale Birju, Saswati Sen and Mohua Shankar executed their rendition of talis, created as images by Birju with him on the tabla. Around ten p.m. Birju seemed he wanted to proceed indefinitely. His parting comment to the audience: “I hope to come back - quickly.”