The article which appears below was originally published in Krishna Tiloks's book, Notes Of A Dream. ©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.
Kareema Begum was a homemaker, but she was business-savvy. She was no musician herself, but she knew what the film industry of South India was like at the time. And she knew a few key figures in the business thanks to her husband. As the income from renting out Shekhar’s musical instruments started to dry out, she was the one who decided that young AR would have to get to work for the family to survive—and by doing what he knew best.
‘She had a mind for management,’ says Fathima. ‘She could manage a hundred different things at the same time with a cool head. I don’t think I could manage even 10 per cent of what she did. I don’t think I’d have the strength to take some of the decisions she did either.’
Shekhar had been both well known and respected in the south Indian film music circles. Kareema Begum used all the connections, called in all the favours he had accumulated over the course of his career and tried to get the young AR work at the recording sessions of Chennai’s top music directors.
An integral part of the process was M.K. Arjunan, Shekhar’s friend and fellow Malayalam composer. Shekhar had in fact worked under the man. ‘He was a tenant on the ground floor of the house in Kodambakkam,’ says Raihanah. Arjunan initially gave AR some work at his own recording sessions, so that the boy could make some money for his family. He also reached out to other composers and told them about AR.
AR wasn’t a great player at first, but he could definitely be called a prodigy because he could do a lot of things other kids couldn’t. It took him a while to learn, but once he got the hang of it, there was no stopping him.
‘And before long, he was the best,’ says Raihanah. ‘You have to remember that this was just a kid of eleven. How could one expect him to immediately match up to men who were in their thirties and so experienced?’
Rahman started off by working for Arjunan, but other composers were initially unwilling to take on such a young boy. But word of his skill and circumstances spread, and soon enough he was working with most of the top music directors in Chennai—including M.S. Viswanathan, the composer duo Raj–Koti and Ramesh Naidu.
‘A few Bombay composers even,’ says Raihanah. ‘I don’t remember their names, but he used to go play for them. He was the number one keyboard player back then. Rahman has always been the most sought-after in whatever he does, be it playing at sessions, programming, composing for jingles or movie songs.’
Before long, AR was getting more work than he could handle—much like his father. ‘Raj–Koti would cancel their recordings if AR didn’t go,’ says Raihanah. ‘He was such an integral part of their recordings.’ She laughs and adds, ‘Sometimes, Raj and Koti would have a major disagreement and the recording session that day would be cancelled. Rahman would come home and tell us what happened, and then go try to get them to patch up.’
AR didn’t just play the keyboard for most of these composers. With a technical understanding of electronic instruments that was far superior to that of men much older than him, he was also called on routinely to fix equipment that was acting up—problems, mind you, that baffled even some of the most experienced minds in the recording business.
Sometimes though, the technical problems would be too much even for AR. The thing with the keyboards that AR was using back then, when he was thirteen or fourteen, was that they used to go out of tune if they heated up. And unfortunately, most of the studios he played at did not have air conditioning. He would play and play and, after a while, it would get so hot that his hands would start sweating. The sweat would seep in between the keys and the instrument would go out of tune.
AR would then take the keyboard to a man named Raghavan who was the only person in Chennai who knew how to fix the problem. He would wait at Raghavan’s house for a couple of hours and, finally, Raghavan’s wife would come out and say, ‘He’s just woken up; he’ll be with you in a bit.’
Raghavan would emerge, wild-haired and exclaiming his hellos. He would take the keyboard into a room, telling AR to wait. AR says he has no idea what Raghavan actually did in there, but that, a couple of hours later, the keyboard would be working just fine.
