The interview which appears below, was originally published on Times Of India in September 2002. ©The rights to this material are reserved to the owner. If you have any concerns or comments, please send an email to info@rahmaniac.com.
Metamorphosis is the dominant note of this life, a life which has seen a child overcome the tragedy of his father’s death to fend for his family, a musician strain to strike a balance between commerce and creativity, a spiritual soul finds its true calling in the tenets of Sufism.
But if he has been a victim of circumstance, he is also a victor who has met the uneven odds of destiny with a song on his lips. Sanghita Singh tunes in to the sounds of Allah Rakha Rahman’s life and discovers that music apart, self-motivation makes the celebrated composer’s world go round.
I was born Dileep Shekhar:
I was born in Chennai on January 6, 1967, as Dileep Shekhar. My father, RK Shekhar, was a composer and a workaholic, going to seven-eight places for work each day. My mother, earlier Kasturi Shekhar and now Karima Begum, is a housewife. Ours was a joint family. In fact, my maternal grandparents really pampered me and my three sisters. I lost my father when I was nine: My only distinct memories of him are confined to an ailing patient in the hospital. It was a mysterious disease that doctors failed to diagnose. In between, my mother sought refuge in spiritual healers. Unfortunately, he was not destined to live long.
My father’s death shook our world:
His death was an emotional setback for us. And since my father was the breadwinner of the family, we went through difficult times. But my mother is a bold woman who never let us feel the absence of our father. My mother insisted that I pursue music. I rented out my father’s musical equipment and earned some money. As a child, I wasn’t sure about a career goal, but I was always fascinated by electronic gadgets, especially musical equipment.
I started working while at school:
As a family, we got by somehow, but life was tough. I had to shoulder responsibility and started working while still in school. I earned my first salary, Rs 50, for operating a record player. I was always low on attendance and developed a complex since I was the only child who didn’t attend classes regularly. I had to take a year off from school. But when I took the board exams, I managed to get 62 per cent.
Life was hectic, but there was no choice:
Early morning, I left home to record for films. Musical programmes took up my evenings. In between, I attended school. I was 18 and doing double shifts. Life was tough, but my earnings helped support the family. All savings were for buying musical equipment.
I dropped out of college:
I joined the Madras Christian College but dropped out after three months. Telugu music director Ramesh Naidu asked me to assist him and I did so for over a year. I did think of rejoining college but, by then, I was discovering the musician in me. I worked with Illaya Raja and Raj Koti and soon shifted to commercials. This led to movie offers. Meanwhile, I performed as part of a band with Shankar, Sivamani and Zakir Husain. I wasn’t very keen on films but felt drawn to Mani Ratnam. I felt that he was reaching out to people without resorting to cliches. Mani signed me up for Roja.
Roja changed my career:
I had been doing the same kind of stuff for 15-16 years and was desperately seeking a change. But there was no opportunity to reinterpret Indian music. With Roja, we wanted to strike a new note. Mani’s amazing visuals, Mutthu’s romantic lyrics, and relatively unknown singers. We wanted to impart to Roja an international flavour and we succeeded.
I changed my religion and became Allah Rakha Rahman:
My mother’s belief in spiritual healers grew stronger after our family went through a rough patch following my father’s death. Sufi saint Karimullah Shah Kadri changed our lives and all of us converted to Sufism. But it wasn’t an instantaneous decision it took us 10 years to convert. The change in religion was like washing away the past. In 1982, I left Dileep Shekhar behind and became Allah Rakha Rahman.
My mother arranged my marriage:
Saira frequented the same Sufi temple as us and my mother first noticed her there. My first meeting with Saira was rather amusing. Back then, she only spoke Kutchi. I asked her whether she was interested in marrying me. She was very quiet then, but now I know she is anything but quiet! I had to smile throughout our three-hour meeting and, by the end of it, it was almost a pain.
I take criticism in my stride:
What I feel is great music is sometimes rejected by the public. Till three weeks after Lagaan was released, I was told I had failed miserably. The industry feedback for Taal wasn’t encouraging. Criticism is fine at the end of the day, my music speaks for itself.
Webber is a brave man:
It needs a lot of courage to pick up someone from another country and support him. When I first heard from Andrew Llyod Webber in 1999, he praised my work. But I must say that choosing me over others to compose for Bombay Dreams was a brave decision.
I never exert pressure on my children:
I encourage the children, Katija and Rahima, to pursue their dreams. Rahima is embarrassed by autograph-seekers and doesn’t want me to visit her school. In fact, I have never attended a single PTA meeting or gone to pick up the report cards of my children.
Music and spiritualism are related:
There is a small place near Mahabalipuram where I occasionally practise. It is at this place that I feel at one with my music. For me, there is no day or night for music. I often work through the night without phone calls disturbing me.
I have been forced to reinvent myself:
As a musician, I need to be familiar with all kinds of music. There is nothing such as strictly folk or strictly classical. Earlier, I was interested in Carpenters and Deep Purple. But for the past 10 years, I have developed a fondness for Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.
In my case, the dust has become gold:
Today, I work with people I grew up admiring. But, internally, I am the same person I always was. Ever since I embraced Sufism, I have learnt to separate myself from my desires and my success. Now, I can distance myself from all the adulation showered on me.
You can’t have everything in life:
What one thinks is possible might not always be so. I try to do my best but, finally, everything lies in God’s hands. I consider my skills as a musician to be a blessing from God. Even today, before I perform, I am unsure of whether I will be able to move my audience. I leave everything to Him. He pulls the strings in my life.
