Pt. Abhisheki

In India's land, so rich and grand, A maestro's voice, like golden sand, Pandit Jitendra Abhisheki, his name, A singer of fame, in music's game. With vocals pure, he would allure, Classical tunes, he'd ensure, Hindustani melodies, he'd master, And Marathi theatre, he'd bring faster. Thumri, tappa, bhajan, and more, His repertoire, a musical store, With devotion and skill, he'd sing, A maestro, to whom we'd all cling. Each year, a festival, in his name, To honor his legacy, and his fame, In Maharashtra's heart, it would be, A celebration, for all to see. In Goa's land, a festival too, At the Kala Academy, it grew, Fourteen editions, it has seen, Keeping his music, forever green. Random page: SoIK Hellas