Her strings, her stage: a young sitarist's first solo

There is a moment in every classical musician's life when the tanpura players sit behind you instead of beside you. She has thought about it since she was eleven, practising on a sitar so large she played it kneeling.

Her teacher's method was old-fashioned in the best way: two years of nothing but scales, listening sessions where students were quizzed on which string had been struck, and a rule that no phrase may be performed until it can be sung.

The sitar itself is new, built to her measurements by a third-generation luthier who interviewed her about her practice room's humidity before accepting the commission. Eight months later he delivered it with one instruction: play it every day for a year before judging it.

The programme for the debut is deliberately modest — one afternoon raag, developed slowly. 'Fireworks are for the fifth concert,' her teacher says. 'The first one should simply prove you can hold a room.' She can. The room just doesn't know it yet.