“Music has the power to begin conversations and emotional exchanges that words often can’t,” says Carnatic vocalist TM Krishna, who is curating the second edition of Kiran Nadar Museum of Art's festival, 'Voices of Diversity'. “That’s why the sounds and rhythms of those at society’s margins are so important; their voices can move and change people like me.”
Scheduled from October 9 to 12 in the scenic Sunder Nursery, the festival embraces the theme "voices of diversity", showcasing both celebrated and emerging artists from across India in a dialogue around freedom, identity, resistance, and cultural belonging.
The lineup spans genres—from a Lavani performance that celebrates the lives of traditional artists from Maharashtra, followed by a poetry-driven collaboration by singers Pallavi MD and Bindhumalini, featuring the works of Mirabai, Lingamma, and other women whose stories have often been overlooked. The four-piece band Parvaaz brings Kashmiri poetry to life through rock, while folk-rock ensemble Imphal Talkies & The Howlers from Manipur India sing about struggle, dreams, and resistance, adding a political dimension to the lineup.
The festival also features India’s first female hip-hop collective, Wild Wild Women, and Hindustani rock band Ankur Tewari and The Ghalat, who close the festival with soulful acoustic ballads and groovy folk-rock. Bollywood reinterpretations are offered by The B Side Project, a soulful Carnatic baithak is led by Jayanthi Kumaresh, and a cross-genre Bhakti-Sufi collaboration, ‘Prem Ras’, brings together Prahlad Tipanya and Mukhtiyar Ali, rounding out a programme that celebrates India’s musical diversity and richness.
Excerpts from our conversation with TM Krishna:
What inspired you to shape the KNMA Music Festival around the theme ‘voices of diversity’?
We often say art can transform and transcend, but it can only do so if people allow it to. For that to happen, we have to break many shackles and limitations—around who sings what, where it’s sung, what’s ‘appropriate’ and what’s not. These are all the baggage we carry, and as long as we carry them, we can’t truly experience another culture.
We keep saying India is diverse, but what does that really mean? Diversity isn’t about everything staying in its own box. You celebrate diversity only when those boxes talk to each other—when traditions mix, when one performance sparks curiosity about another. That’s the spirit behind this festival. It’s about creating bridges—between art forms, artists, and audiences. It's an extension of what I very strongly have believed in, both as an artist, writer and an activist.
What was your process of curating the lineup?
One thing I was very conscious about was choosing artists and bands that have stepped beyond their comfort zones—those who, through their art, are questioning or challenging something within their own sphere of work.
All artists don’t have to be activists, and that’s a personal choice. But they do need to be open—to receive, to reflect, and in that process, to challenge themselves.
The other aspect was about creating a dialogue. A conversation isn’t always two people singing or speaking to each other; it can also be the act of placing two distinct ideas on the same platform and allowing audiences to experience both.
The festival also engages with themes of resistance, identity, and marginalisation. Why is it important for music festivals, in particular, to make space for these themes?
Our society often ignores the voices that come from its margins and it’s those very voices that ask the difficult questions we all need to hear. People like me, who are privileged, rarely have a reason to challenge the system; we benefit from it. But those who’ve been marginalised are the ones who push for change.
So if we don’t curate spaces that bring those voices to the main stage, we’re being unjust. As people of privilege, our role should be to step aside, be allies, and listen. The stage has always been ours—now it’s time to share it.
Another thing that’s happened to music spaces today is that they’ve become genre-specific—a rock festival here, a classical or folk festival there—which ends up limiting the larger idea of art. I think it’s vital for festivals to break that mold and allow genres to talk to each other.
The festival also features a specially commissioned work, 'Nannajya, My Grandfather’s'. What led to its creation?
The idea came from something that had been in my head for a while, and that’s when I called director Lakshmana from the Jagamma Collective, and told him, I have this thought: what if we created an ensemble of drumming traditions from South India, specifically, from Dalit communities?
I didn’t want it to be just a display of rhythms, not a jugalbandi. I imagined something more layered—something that emerges from within these cultures, from their ways of proclaiming identity, of challenging social structures. I shared this with Lakshmana, and he was immediately intrigued. A few days later, he came back with a concept—a theatrical story around which the ensemble could be built.
Honestly, beyond that, it’s been their work. I’m just as excited as everyone else to see what they’ve created.
In today’s socio-political climate, especially in India, do you think artists and curators of festivals like this have a responsibility?
I believe every artist and curator has a responsibility — not just to art, but to the society they live in. It’s easy to speak about democracy in abstract terms, but the real question is: what does democracy mean in our homes, our environments, and the music we make? That’s where it begins — by working locally.
For the festival, I wanted to bring together artists who each engage with their own version of the ‘local’—and I mean local here metaphorically. Whether through sound, community, geography, or lived experience, each artist carries their own local truth. By sharing the same space, these local perspectives naturally spark a larger conversation, without needing to stage it explicitly.
As curators, I think our role is also to uphold what we gave ourselves in the Constitution — the vision of equality, justice, fraternity, and freedom. Ultimately, when you place all artists and art forms on equal footing, you chip away at elitism. You don’t have to declare it; it happens naturally through the act of creating and listening together.
Tickets are available at www.skillboxes.com, starting from ₹199