When Holi arrives, most people reach for pichkaris and buckets of color—but Ayaan and Amaan Ali Bangash reached for their sarods. In Colors and Celebrations, the duo gives India’s most vibrant festival a classical twist, proving that ragas can be just as riotous as a splash of gulaal. Forget Bollywood remixes on loop—this album brings together centuries-old folk Holi songs, the precision of classical music, and the unmistakable joy of improvisation. It’s where discipline meets dhamaal. The Bangash brothers aren’t new to blending worlds. Whether it’s collaborating with Grammy-winning artists or reimagining orchestral arrangements, they’ve made a career out of pushing the sarod beyond its traditional confines. But this project, they admit, felt different. Teaming up with folk legend Malini Awasthi, they decided to revisit age-old Holi melodies, treating them not like artifacts but living, breathing traditions that deserved a fresh coat of sound. “It’s funny,” Ayaan laughs, “people think classical music is rigid. But like Holi, it’s all about controlled chaos—there’s structure, sure, but within that, there’s endless freedom.” And that philosophy seeps into every track of Colors and Celebrations, where the sarod doesn’t just accompany the vocals—it dances alongside them, much like how colors swirl midair on Holi morning. Here are the excerpts: How did you balance the structured discipline of classical music with the unrestrained joy of Holi in Colors and Celebrations? Classical music is often seen as structured and disciplined, while Holi represents chaos and uninhibited joy. But in reality, classical music is freedom within discipline. It may have a set framework, but within that, there is immense room for creativity and exploration. All music in the world is built on the foundation of 12 notes—seven main swaras and five additional ones. Everything we hear, from the most intricate classical ragas to the most vibrant folk melodies, stems from these 12 notes. That’s the beauty of music—it can be both structured and spontaneous at the same time. This album was a passion project conceptualized by my brother and me last year. We had previously collaborated with Malini Ji on a single track in another album, and that experience made us realize that we wanted to explore this space further. We thought—why not create an entire Holi album? We had never done something like this before, and the idea of blending classical and folk elements for a festival that thrives on musical energy felt like a natural extension of our creative journey. Malini Ji, being a legend and a guru in folk music, was the perfect collaborator. She curated a selection of Holi songs that have been sung for hundreds of years—songs deeply rooted in Indian tradition, passed down through generations. We revisited these age-old melodies and gave them our own touch through fresh arrangements and programming while staying true to their original spirit. This album is special because, for the first time, we are calling it a commercial album. It’s a blend of tradition and innovation, classical precision and folk spontaneity. We hope it resonates with listeners and brings the festive spirit of Holi alive through music. In this album, the interplay between the sarod and vocals is said to mirror the interaction between colors and a canvas. Can you break down a specific moment where this relationship is most vividly expressed? Indian classical music has always had ragas associated with Holi. Over time, different musical forms like Thumri and Kajri evolved, carrying the essence of the festival within them. These traditions are deeply embedded not just in music but also in Indian visual arts—miniature paintings, for example, often depict Holi celebrations with musicians playing as people throw colors in the air. That’s why folk music was the most natural starting point for this project—it has always been at the heart of Holi celebrations and is, in many ways, the foundation from which classical music evolved. So, for us, this collaboration felt effortless. Malini Ji, with her deep connection to folk traditions, brought these age-old Holi songs to life within the framework of classical music. She sang these traditional melodies while staying true to their original folk essence, but within a structured classical approach. This is where the magic happened—her voice carried the raw, celebratory energy of folk music, while the sarod wove intricate classical textures around it, almost like brushstrokes on a canvas of sound. One of the most vivid moments in the album is when the sarod and vocals engage in a call-and-response, much like colors blending on a canvas. The sarod, with its fluid meend (glides), adds depth and emotion, while the vocals bring the lyrics and folk spirit to the forefront. The two elements don’t just coexist—they enhance each other, creating a seamless bridge between folk and classical music. At its core, this album is an homage to Holi—not just as a festival, but as a symbol of unity. Colors know no boundaries, no race, no divisions—they blend, just as music does. And Holi is a day when we set aside differences, embrace joy, and move forward in life with renewed energy. Through this album, we wanted to capture that very spirit—one of harmony, togetherness, and the sheer vibrancy of sound and color. The track Colors of Love (Rasiyo Ko) explores the romantic dimension of Holi. How does the sarod convey themes of longing and passion in this composition? Instrumental music has no lyrics, so the emotions we express through the sarod come entirely from our interpretation as artists. In a way, our music is a reflection of who we are—our emotions, our personal journeys, and how we’ve evolved over time. The way my brother and I approach music today is very different from how we did ten years ago, and you can hear that evolution in our playing. Romantic longing, or viraha, is a theme deeply embedded in Indian classical music. The sarod, with its deep, resonant tone and fluid meend (glides between notes), is incredibly expressive when it comes to conveying emotions like passion, yearning, and unfulfilled love. In Aj Biraj Mein, for instance, the melody captures the essence of separation and anticipation, feelings often associated with Holi—the festival where lovers reunite, where Krishna teases Radha, where colors become a metaphor for emotions. By keeping these compositions instrumental, we allow the music to speak without words. The sarod takes on the role of a voice, expressing what cannot be said aloud. Every phrase, every note, carries the weight of longing, just like poetry would. It’s the unsaid emotions, the spaces between the notes, that truly convey the depth of love, passion, and yearning. Ultimately, Colors of Love isn’t just about romance—it’s about the human experience of desire, nostalgia, and emotional intensity, all of which the sarod naturally lends itself to. Folk and classical music have distinct stylistic approaches. Were there any moments where you had to rethink your composition style to align with Malini Awasthi Ji’s vocal textures? Not really—our approach was never about altering or reshaping the folk essence to fit classical structures. Instead, we focused on complementing her vocals because, at its core, this album is song-driven. The song is at the forefront, and our role was to enhance it with improvisation rather than impose a rigid classical framework. Since folk music is inherently raw and spontaneous, we took an equally organic approach. There was no rigid pre-planning—it was all about instinct and feeling the music in the moment. For example, in technical terms, we incorporated ragas like Alhaiya Bilawal and Khamaj, depending on the mood of each track. The first song released on video is primarily based on Khamaj, with subtle touches of Alhaiya Bilawal, which naturally blended with the folk melody. When Malini Ji sang, we responded to her vocals with our own creativity, letting the sarod weave in and out of her phrases, almost like a conversation. It was an improvised process—reacting to the energy of the song rather than following a set blueprint. That’s what made this collaboration so special: it wasn’t about forcing folk into classical or vice versa; it was about finding a seamless, natural balance where both styles could breathe and thrive together. The album was recorded using rare vintage microphones and spatial audio techniques. What was the goal behind these choices? The use of vintage microphones and spatial audio techniques wasn’t just a technical decision—it was a creative one. The idea was to capture the warmth, depth, and authenticity of the music in the purest form possible. Saisha, who programmed everything, has an exceptional ear for sound. He understands the nuances of each instrument and knows exactly how to bring out its best tonal quality. His technical expertise played a huge role in shaping the sonic experience of this album. Aman Bhai also has a very technical mind, especially when it comes to sound engineering. While traveling and performing, he is always experimenting with different microphone placements, constantly looking for ways to evolve the sound of the sarod. The same philosophy applied to this album—we wanted to push the sonic boundaries and enhance the listening experience without losing the organic feel of the music. Using vintage microphones gave the recordings a natural warmth and richness, something modern digital processing often struggles to replicate. The spatial audio techniques allowed for a more immersive experience, making listeners feel as if they were right there in the room with us, surrounded by the music. Ultimately, the goal was to honor the timeless beauty of classical and folk music while presenting it with the highest sonic fidelity possible. It was about blending tradition with innovation to create something truly special. Some believe that festivals like Holi lose their deeper meaning when commercialized. With Colors and Celebrations, are you trying to reclaim the spiritual and cultural essence of the festival through music? Absolutely. Our intention with Colors and Celebrations was to reconnect with the roots of Holi, both musically and culturally, and to present it in a way that feels authentic rather than just commercial. If you look at Holi songs over the years, some have truly captured the festival’s essence, while others have come and gone without making a lasting impact. Take Rang Barse from Silsila—it’s a timeless song that remains simple yet deeply connected to the spirit of Holi. On the other hand, there have been many attempts at Holi songs in films, but only a handful have resonated with people. There are maybe 500 Holi songs out there, yet every Holi party plays the same six or seven tracks on loop. That tells you that authenticity matters—people connect with songs that feel real and rooted in tradition. That’s why working with Malini Ji was so important to us. She doesn’t just sing folk music—she embodies the culture of Banaras, of Uttar Pradesh, of the deeply rooted traditions that Holi represents. We could have taken any mainstream singer and recorded polished studio versions of these folk songs, but that would have missed the point. Holi music isn’t about technical perfection—it’s about raw energy, about rustic, soulful singing that feels like it belongs in the streets, in the courtyards, where Holi is celebrated in its purest form. Beyond just the music, this collaboration was special because of the mutual respect we shared with Malini Ji. Her guru had deep ties with our father, Ustad Amjad Ali Khan, and that history of shared musical journeys added another layer of depth to this project. It wasn’t just about recording songs—it was about honoring each other’s legacies, about making music from a place of genuine cultural reverence. And that’s what truly makes a collaboration meaningful. Before music can come together, people have to come together. There has to be a connection, an understanding, a meeting of hearts. When that happens, the music follows naturally. While creating this album, did you discover any forgotten or underrepresented Holi musical traditions that deserve wider recognition? Yes, absolutely. One of the most fascinating realizations during this project was how many traditional Holi songs have been absorbed into mainstream culture without people realizing their true origins. For example, when Malini Ji first sang Holi Khele Raghuveera from Bhagban, I initially thought we were repeating a song from a film. But then I discovered that it wasn’t originally a Bollywood composition at all—it was an authentic folk song that a music director had adapted for a movie long ago. This happened with several of the songs we explored. These aren’t newly composed songs; they’ve existed in the villages, passed down for generations, long before they were ever recorded. The four or five songs we selected for this album are deeply rooted in traditional Holi celebrations. They come from the heart of India’s folk traditions, carrying the raw, unfiltered essence of the festival. That’s why we kept the arrangements simple—just enough to enhance the authenticity without overproducing them. We didn’t want to turn them into polished, electronic versions. The goal was to preserve their rustic, real sound, the way they would be sung in a chaupal (village gathering) or during a Holi procession. These songs deserve wider recognition because they are part of India’s cultural and musical heritage. They aren’t just about celebration—they tell stories, carry emotions, and connect generations. Through Colors and Celebrations, we hope to shine a light on these traditional Holi melodies and bring them back into mainstream consciousness, ensuring they don’t fade away with time. Your early recordings focused primarily on classical music, but over time, you’ve explored fusion, orchestral collaborations, and even jazz. How has your artistic vision evolved over the years? Artistic evolution is a lifelong journey. Every day, we live as students of music. No matter how much experience we gain, there is always more to learn. With all humility and gratitude, we acknowledge that having a career spanning over 35 years is a blessing. But what keeps us going isn’t just longevity—it’s the continuous growth, the love from people, and the ability to stay relevant while remaining true to our art. Music isn’t something you achieve—it’s a state of mind. The moment you believe you’ve arrived, you place a full stop on your own creative journey. That’s why, for us, the question has never been “What can we take from music?” but rather, “What can we offer to music?” That shift in perspective is crucial for growth. A great musician once said, “Don’t aim to be the best performer—aim to be the best student in the room.” That philosophy has shaped our approach. We believe in constantly learning, refining, evolving, and questioning our craft. Staying grounded is key—humility allows you to grow, and curiosity fuels reinvention. With every project, there’s always a desire to push boundaries—to sound better, to explore new dimensions, to introspect and reflect on what can be improved. We never settle. Even when an album is complete and released, we don’t dwell on it. The emotional attachment is strong while creating it, but once it’s out in the world, it belongs to the universe. You have to let go. We see ourselves as mediums, not creators. The music passes through us, but it ultimately belongs to something greater. Once we release a piece of work, we don’t try to pull it back—it has its own journey, its own destiny. Our focus then shifts to the next creation, the next opportunity to contribute something new to the ever-expanding world of music. You’ve worked with an eclectic range of artists—from Grammy-nominated Krishna Das to rock guitarist Joe Walsh. Can you share some experiences from working with such creative minds? The one quality that stands out among all these incredible artists is humility. That’s what truly defines greatness. Whether it’s Joe Walsh, Krishna Das, or any other legendary artist we’ve collaborated with, the common thread is that they don’t carry the weight of their fame into the studio. When we work with them, they don’t behave like “rockstars” or “celebrities.” They behave like excited kids—eager, curious, and completely immersed in the process of creating something new. Their enthusiasm is contagious, and that makes the collaboration even more inspiring. There’s no ego, no sense of superiority—just a shared love for music and an openness to explore. Unfortunately, sometimes in our own industry, we come across musicians who, despite their talent, enter the studio with a sense of entitlement. Some believe they are the best fusion artists, or that they have already mastered everything. And that’s where the problem starts—because the moment you think you’ve reached the peak, you stop growing. In contrast, working with artists like Krishna Das or Joe Walsh has been a reminder that true masters never stop learning. They are laser-focused on the music, always experimenting, always pushing boundaries. It’s never about proving something—it’s about creating something. That’s what makes cross-cultural collaborations so special. It’s not just about blending different styles of music—it’s about blending minds, approaches, and energies. And when that happens with the right people, the result is something truly magical. With social media and streaming platforms changing how music is consumed, do you think classical musicians need to adapt, or should they remain rooted in traditional performance settings? Classical music has always evolved organically with time. It isn’t something that needs to be forcibly adapted—it naturally finds its place in each generation. Over the decades, from the 1950s to today, the way classical music is presented has changed significantly, but without diluting its essence. Artists have played a huge role in shaping this evolution. What was once confined to concert halls and radio broadcasts is now easily accessible through platforms like Spotify, YouTube, and streaming services. Classical music is being streamed globally, allowing it to reach newer audiences who might never have been exposed to it otherwise. In many ways, classical music is at a peak today—there are more students than ever before, playing at an incredibly high level. One major reason for this is the vast amount of content available. Earlier, a single rare recording of a great master could change the course of a student’s life. Today, they have access to thousands of hours of recordings, live performances, and digital archives of legendary musicians. The ability to learn and research has expanded tremendously. However, despite all these advancements, the soul of classical music remains unchanged. No amount of digital accessibility can replace the realism of live performance, the power of a guru’s blessings, or the intense dedication required to master the art. Technology may provide new ways to share classical music, but the essence of taleem (training), riyaaz (practice), and sadhana (dedication) remains just as vital as it was centuries ago. Many young musicians hesitate to pursue classical music because of its rigorous training. What would you say to encourage the next generation to keep this tradition alive? To be completely honest, classical music is time-consuming. It requires immense dedication, and not everyone is willing to put in the years of hard work. The reality today is that it’s easier to make money as an influencer with a smartphone than to spend hours in practice, mastering an art form that demands lifelong commitment. That’s why only those who are truly passion-driven take up classical music now. Unlike other professions, classical music doesn’t require a degree or formal qualifications—it’s an open field where success depends solely on an artist’s dedication. But it is a challenging craft. In other musical forms, you can play basic chords on a guitar and still perform ten shows a month. But in classical music, when you step onto a stage in front of 5,000 people, it’s just you and your music. There are no second chances, no retakes. It’s like a batsman in cricket—no matter how much practice you’ve done, once the ball is bowled, you have to hit the right shot at that very moment. What separates those who succeed in classical music is humility and consistency. Every musician faces difficult periods of self-doubt and frustration. The only way through is to keep going, to keep practicing even when it feels like progress is slow. Passion alone isn’t enough—it must be accompanied by a deep sense of responsibility toward the art form. A guru can guide you, but they cannot practice for you. At some point, your relationship with music becomes deeply personal—it’s about your dreams, your aspirations, and how far you are willing to push yourself. No one can force you. That’s why true classical musicians aren’t just trained; they are driven by something greater than themselves. Is there an uncharted territory in music that still excites you? Perhaps an unconventional collaboration or experimental approach you have yet to explore? Absolutely. As musicians, we should always remain restless. The moment you feel fully satisfied, you stop growing. We are, of course, deeply grateful for the blessings we’ve received, but musically, there is still so much more to explore. There are several projects on hold right now—one of them is with Rahman Sahab, which we are currently working on. It’s something that has been in the pipeline for a while, and we’re hoping to bring it to life soon. Beyond that, we are also conceptualizing a big project centered around nature and music—something that intertwines our sound with the natural world. Another idea we’ve been considering is an R&B and sarod fusion. That’s a space we haven’t fully explored yet, and we feel there’s incredible potential there. The interplay between sarod and R&B textures could create something entirely new—deeply emotive yet rhythmically fresh. If everything aligns, this might materialize around May, June, or July. But we never release albums just for the sake of it. Every project has to have a story, a purpose. Whether it’s a theme like nature, wildlife, or a concept we are truly passionate about, we ensure that there is depth and meaning behind everything we create. Of course, balancing touring with recording is always a challenge. Sometimes, we don’t step into a studio for months because of our live performance commitments. But recording is something we love—the process of creating, experimenting, and refining is just as rewarding as performing. So yes, there are many things we want to do—many creative territories we have yet to explore. Music is an endless ocean, and we are still discovering new waves.