Khan says he turned down the awards in a reaction against what he saw as an arbitrary process. "I asked them, 'On what basis is a person given an award--age, beauty, wealth? How can you judge the artist?' They couldn't answer me."

Khan's sheltered lifestyle prevented him from visiting the U.S. earlier. He has toured the Soviet Union, China, Europe and the Middle East, but Khan says he was afraid to come here because of what he had heard and seen through movies and television. He left American audiences would not be as receptive as those of other countries, and he did not want to leave the security of "staying in my own conditions."

The urgings of Khan's close friend, film producer Ismail Merchant, ultimately convinced him to come to the U.S. Merchant was helping Bloomingdale's department stores' president Marvin S. Traub '47 organize a series of Indian cultural events in the U.S., and Khan says, "I finally gave in this time because Ismail was so keen, and assured me that my whole family could come and that I could stay with families in quiet places."

He was surprised, upon arriving in the U.S., to find his fears alleviated. He did not encounter "tall rock buildings and people always in a hurry, unable to talk," but rather friendly and appreciative audiences.

Khan says that during his first days in this country he spent much of his time reflecting on the differences between Eastern and Western cultures. He disapproves greatly of musicians who experiment with mixing the two, valuing tradition over innovation. Attempts to make Indian music more palatable to American audiences by doing such things as writing concertos for sitar or playing Indian music on the saxophone, strike him as a compromise. "I myself will never try to mix two colors to create a third," he says. "It is easy to do that, but it is harder to work with just one color."

Referring to one Western violinist who recorded his experiments with Indian music, Khan says, "When I listen to that great Western musician trying to play Eastern music, he sounds like a child. The Moonlight Sonata--I could not be able to play it even like a European child.

Khan appreciates Western music--jazz, disco, opera--as long as it is unadulterated. His reactions to music are either emotional or intellectual. Bach intrigues him because his complicated fugues resemble Indian classical music in their repetition and variations on one theme. Maria Callas and Bartok are his favorites. "Bartok's compositions are so intricate, but like in Indian music he never uses more than ten notes at a time. Maria Callas--she is my type of lady. She does what she feels and doesn't play for others."

Khan vehemently opposes the various gurus and Indian musicians who come to the U.S. to commercially package their cults and art. His normally soft voice rises indignantly at the idea that they misrepresent Hindy culture in America. He sees Americans as too innocent; in their desire to find spiritual fulfillment in an alienating society, they are susceptible to movements such as the Hare Krishnas and Guru Maharaji.

In an interview last weekend, Khan was reluctant to discuss politics. But he did say that he supported former Prime Minister Indira Ghandhi's state of emergency. "What many Americans don't understand is that it was a necessary thing. Democracy is something people here have because it is tradition." He feels the emergency provided an order to the nation that was imperative for social and economic change. The American press played up its restrictiveness, he believes, and judged the Indian political situation by their own standards, without comprehending the complicated economic and social realities.

Despite any questions Khan might have about the Indian state of affairs, he does not intend to leave the country. It is understandable why he feels that way. In spite of its swelling poverty and destitution and its unstable political situation, India is the only place where he could best develop his art. Everywhere are indications of ancient religions and the traditions. Sacred cows walk the streets, shrines are at the feet of Bombay streetlamps, most homes have puja (worship) rooms and an idol of the household deity. People are named after characters in the Vedic scriptures.

Despite what many people think, not everyone in India is deeply religious--there are a fair number of hypocritical gurus there as well. But it is easier to live a meditative life there than in the U.S.; one has to, because the irremediable poverty demands an escape from it. Hearing Indian music night and day enriches the practice of it. America, with its diversity of cultures, just does not lend itself to the pursuit of pure Indian music.