Music has a language of its own. And when someone speaks that language the way A R Rahman does, the world stops to catch its breath. Trying to capture his thoughts and songscapes cannot be an easy task and Nasreen Munni Kabir’s book – A R Rahman: The Spirit Of Music – does manage an enthusiastic job. It’s in interview format and we get to know the maestro up close and personal and there are anecdotes there, priceless ones that intrigue, overwhelm and stay with you.
So I read about his conversion to Islam, about how he finds the need to disappear into a meditative state once in a while. How his mother sold the jewellery meant for his sister’s wedding so he could buy equipment for his studio. How his name came to be. And his music.
The book is definitely a revelation on the music whiz. But for a Rahman fanatic like me, it stops just short of nailing it. It has a dry quality to it, a no nonsense air much like the man himself but for a biography with so many layers it could have done with a little more depth and texture.
There is a distinct lack of eloquence
in the writing. You want to feel his music through the book and sometimes you miss a note. That aside, the book will allow his fans to discover him.
Like I did many years ago. Long before the world did. As the strains of Roja wafted through my tape recorder. And while everyone wondered if Mani Ratnam, a staunch Illayaraja loyalist, had made a mistake by hiring this quiet, young boy known for his ad jingles, I was mesmerised. And not too long before the rest of the country was too.
By the time I finally met him, he had become the Mozart of Madras. A name he reveals he isn’t too fond of, in the book. And I was struck by his humility and quietude. He doesn’t feel the need to speak unless necessary. Even then it’s in low, measured tones. But his silence isn’t intimidating. It isn’t offensive. It simply is, in his case, golden.
His understated persona isn’t a product of any agenda. He is his music. And much more. But that the world needn’t see. No drama, no design. Only genius.
He lets his inimitable sound speak volumes. And while he himself will try and meld into a crowd because he isn’t comfortable in one, his recent colossal success will simply not allow the limelight to shift. It hovers over him eagerly and he seems to be giving into it with an air of amiable resignation.
His innate Sufi soul keeps him separate from the world and yet allows his music to meld with it exquisitely. His spirituality lends his music levity and gravitas at the same time.
Rahman sir is mild mannered, good natured and reticent. There is only this close one can get to him. A prompt sms brightens my heart. A promise kept leaves me touched.
And why ask for more? I have the most intense passionate relationship with his music. This is one love affair that makes you hear the music between the silences.