Gajraj Rao took the audience back to 1989, painting a picture of a home where television and Doordarshan were the only source of entertainment, and stability was the ultimate goal. His father, like many of those times, believed in traditional success—secure jobs, government postings, and a steady pay check. They would often argue, with his father taunting him about being a theatre artist, insisting that destiny wouldn’t unlock with the stage but with a stable job—one that offered security, not uncertainty. But Gajraj had different dreams, ones that didn’t fit within the confines of a stable career. “Acting ki gaadi nahi chali toh patri change kar dunga, writer ban jaunga”, he would tell himself. (Translation: If the acting career doesn’t take off, I’ll switch tracks and become a writer.)

He hilariously recounted the taunts that once shaped his journey, the weight of expectations pressing down on him. “If you are so good for nothing, then log kya kahenge? Koi ladki nahi dega!” he mimicked his father, leaving the audience nodding and giggling in recognition. (Translation: If you are so good for nothing, what will people say? No one will give you a girl). However, these words weren’t just his father’s—they echoed through neighbours’ unsolicited advice and relatives’ knowing glances.

His immense love for cricket, especially watching Test matches with his friend, was yet another source of criticism. With a playful eye-roll, he recalled his father’s exasperated remarks: “Cricket ka itna shauk tha toh khel lete, sports quota mein admission mil jaata”.
(Translation: If you were so fond of cricket, you should have played—it could have gotten your admission through the sports quota.)

“Government job hone se future safe ho jaata hai, acting hobby ke liye theek hai”, said a relative, reinforcing the belief that stability was the only respectable path, while dreams like his were nothing more than fleeting indulgences. (Translation: A government job secures your future; acting is fine as a hobby.)

“What will people say? What will society say? These are the questions I’ve tried to solve since childhood”, he admitted with a smirk. While his friends followed conventional paths, securing stable jobs and structured lives, he was constantly reminded of what he lacked—certainty, predictability, and in their eyes, a respectable future. Compared to the sons of his father’s friends, cousins and relatives who studied hard and built steady careers, he was the outlier, the one who hadn’t ‘figured it out’.

But despite the doubt, Gajraj held his ground. And then, validation came unexpectedly—from an NRI relative who, unlike the others, expressed genuine excitement upon learning that Gajraj was pursuing dramatics. “Your son will be the first in our family to earn fame through the arts. You are very lucky”, he told Gajraj’s father, a sentiment that shifted the entire narrative at home. For the first time, his father, who had always dismissed the profession, seemed to see it in a new light. That single moment of support planted the idea that perhaps dramatics could be a real career choice.

Theatre was his calling, even if it meant enduring scepticism, struggling through rejections, and walking an uncertain road. The climb was slow, riddled with self-doubt, yet he pressed on, proving that passion could be a pursuit, not just a pastime.

And then, the irony. The same people who once warned him that “no girl would marry an actor” now proudly pointed at the screen when he appeared. The whispers of doubt had turned into murmurs of admiration. Society, once his biggest critic, had rewritten its own rules—because success, as it turns out, isn’t measured by stability. It’s measured by conviction.

Gajraj’s story wasn’t just about defying expectations; it was about rewriting them. And in doing so, he left the audience with a question of their own—what if we stopped asking, log kya kahenge?

With his effortless charm, storytelling prowess, and a lot of humour, Gajraj took the attendees through a journey of self-reflection and familial bonds, making them question not just the world around them, but also the world within. Each word resonated deeply, as the lines between personal experiences and universal truths blurred.

It was an eclectic mix of storytelling and music, where Shankar Mahadevan brought together his life in music through memorable music performances and stimulating conversation. From the opening moments, Mahadevan transported the audience back to the genesis of his journey. He talked about how he was comfortable with this corporate job as well as doing music. The Grammy-winning singer took a call at the age of 26-27 to leave his job at a reputed software firm that provided a cushioned life in the USA with financial stability and pursue his passion for music full-time. He told his boss, “Sir, mujhe career change karna hain kal.” He knew that the path was foggy and the future was unstable, but without this leap of faith, Mahadevan said, he would not have been where he was today.

Both Roshan Abbas and Shankar Mahadevan took a trip down the memory lane of how, when Breathless became a raging hit, the singer did his first corporate show with Roshan, underlining the friendship that they have shared for almost 30 years.

During his music performances, Shankar was joined by the rising music star and actor Souumil Shringarpure of Bandish Bandits fame. The night came alive with breathtaking renditions of some of Mahadevan’s most iconic songs, including Breathless, Dil Chahta Hai, Mitwa, and Marathi hit Sur Niragas Ho. Each note served as a reminder of the timeless impact of his music, leaving the audience spellbound.

He also gave the audience a glimpse of his thinking process and the joy he finds when music and lyrics come together when Abbas asked him an interesting question. Roshan requested him to break down the music for an engineer, taking a deep dive into the technicalities of music, a one-of-a-kind experience to delve into the mind of the maestro.

With reference to his popular song, Mitwa, he explained to the audience, “You can deconstruct any melody to its relevant sargam. It is like any program if you break it down into its relevant, equivalent binaries. Music can represent a playground, where you can freely dance, play, and jump around. The binary layers are sargam, the lowermost layer. It is the spelling of Mitwa. If you remove the sargam, then the melody comes. When you put lyrics on the melody, it becomes a song. The application of classical music comes here. Why should you learn classical music? For the application of it, and to sing a harkat in Mitwa.”

While talking about the new wave of musicians, Shankar Mahadevan fondly reminisced about late Zakir Hussain, saying, “When I was in junior college, my dream was to meet the band members of Shakti. The most phenomenal band that pioneered taking Indian music to the next level. We used to go to a cassette store, ‘Embassy,’ in Chembur, and it was like a masterclass. I used to ask Zakir’s brother, Fazal, to make me meet Zakir Hussain and click a picture with him and Shakti. If you put it out there and manifest it very strongly, the universe definitely gives it. I ended up touring with ‘Shakti’ for 25 years. When I used to be on stage, I used to wonder if it was a dream. I just wanted to meet them, and now I am sitting on stage with them. The word ‘Tabla’ has lost its meaning after Zakir Hussain is no more.”

The singer also took the audience through the journey of how the trio, Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy, came together. While Shankar used to sing jingles for advertisements, Ehsaan and Loy were reputed producers already. Their frequent studio hangouts fostered a creative partnership of 30 years. He chronicled the journey from making and producing the biggest hit, Sabse Aage Honge Hindustani for a shelved film, ‘Dus’, to not having any contractual relationship for all these years. It is sheer love, friendship, and respect for each other’s ideas that has kept the trio going!

Shankar Mahadevan also gave a memorable performance of Breathless, which gave him fame when it came out in 1988. He talked about how the song came about during an intellectually intense conversation with Javed Akhtar. Before ending up performing the song not once but twice, on public demand underscoring the enthusiasm that the audience at the festival brought during the session.

Furthermore, he also gave a glimpse into the success of Shankar Mahadevan Academy, which uplifts the spirits of people who struggle with illness, pain, or a lonely heart with the power of music and partners with hospitals, care centres, and senior-citizen communities to stage free online concerts by musicians.