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.
When A.R. Rahman began his musical career proper, aged thirteen, when he started playing the keyboard at the recording sessions of the era’s more established composers, programming for them and (later) making jingles for TV commercials, he quickly became known as a very talented Chennai-based musician.
That identity persisted into the early 1990s, when he began composing music for movies. But as his career progressed, as the last decade of the old millennium passed him by, AR evolved. He became an Indian composer. AR’s music forged a unique connect between the northern and southern Indian film industries and, later, between the Indian movie business and Hollywood.
Now, nearly twenty years later, he is reinventing himself again. These days, A.R. Rahman is neither Chennai- nor India-based. Nor is he just about music any more. Nowadays, he works as much in locations like Toronto and California, and various European cities, as he does in India. And even when he is in the country, he divides his time between Chennai (his home town) and Mumbai (the country’s entertainment capital)-with frequent visits to most of the other large cities.
Rahman’s Mumbai residence is markedly more compact than his Chennai one. It is nestled deep inside a massive apartment complex on a quiet, winding lane in Powai, a suburban neighbourhood in north-eastern Mumbai. He has taken over the entire eighteenth floor in one of the apartment blocks and converted it into a living space and workplace. And it isn’t just AR who stays here, but an entire entourage of sound engineers, assistants and domestic help.
While the apartment complex itself looks like it’s been around for quite some time (the facade blackened by age and Mumbai’s pollution; the elevators slow and rattling) AR’s residence looks brand new. The entrance hall is spacious and tastefully done up. On the far wall, across white marble floors, cream-coloured curtains cover floor-to-ceiling windows. And at the centre of the hall is a set of beige sofas. To one side, by the door, is a glass-and-steel dining table. The hall branches out into two bedrooms, several bathrooms, a small kitchen, a room for prayer and one odd room that seems to be used simply for storage. There is a bicycle inside the room and nobody really gives it too much thought.
The whole place is unusually neat and well-kept. Even in the storage room, everything (boxes, unwrapped furniture) is properly arranged. The bicycle is not carelessly tossed to one side but parked right in the middle of the room. AR cannot stand clutter. His surroundings have to be tidy and he doesn’t like other people being messy either.
A few of AR’s many awards are on display in the hall. You can see an International Indian Film Academy (IIFA) Award and a few Global Indian Music Awards (GIMA). His Oscars, along with his Grammys and Golden Globe trophies, are all housed back in Chennai. Fact is, when you’re A.R. Rahman, the IIFA and GIMAs aren’t such a big deal. He has enough of them to be able to display a few in his secondary dwellings.
The studio part of AR’s Mumbai home, meanwhile, is geared towards functionality as much as aesthetics. The theme of the interiors is primarily white and grey: white wooden floors, grey chairs and sofas. Soft silver lighting fills the space. Mirrors are mounted on almost every wall. The studio boasts yet another kitchen, with a dining table, and a conference room. There is also a large room with a bed, couches and a television where his assistants and engineers catch up on sleep whenever they can. They have to be on call round the clock.
Then, of course, there is the recording studio itself. It is smaller than the one in Chennai, but it is just as advanced technically, and has everything AR could possibly need to work.
A.R. Rahman is obsessed with all things tech, and one look around his hall is enough for someone to get the idea. Even the creamy curtains covering the windows are automated. And there are numerous laptops, tablets and other devices, including at least one virtual reality headset and a drone, strewn across the room. As there are in all his studios.
So, what could you expect to see when you walk in here and A.R. Rahman has some time to kill?
Picture this: India’s top composer, sitting on a sofa, one leg easily crossed over the other, hands spread over the backrest, watching television. The content? Music videos. It is unlikely that most people will recognize anybody featuring in these videos, and the music itself, more often than not, is unlike anything they’d have heard. These music videos are all vague productions, made by obscure indie musicians in the Caribbean or in Eastern Europe, with incredibly high artistic value.
AR will note the lack of any bad language in one. He’ll watch another and try to decipher how some shots were filmed, whether it was shot in infrared or black and white. Most people who interact with the man say he has an amazing ability to listen and absorb information.
‘Like a sponge,’ says ad and feature film-maker Rajiv Menon, who has worked with AR on a great many jingles and three movie soundtracks.
But AR isn’t sitting around watching these videos for fun. For him, all these artistic works are one thing only-references. And not just for new music. He is keenly following the development of new styles of film-making so that he can use them for the films he intends to create.
Make no mistake, AR is serious about getting into the movies. Now it’s just about making his presence felt, making a mark. That’s why he is starting to spend more and more time in Mumbai, the pulsing heart of the Indian entertainment industry.
One question AR’s colleagues and friends have been asking him lately is ‘why?’. Why, at the peak of his musical career, does A.R. Rahman want to plunge into something new? When the world is eating out of his hand, where music is concerned, why does he want to be a beginner again in another field? And why, oh why, of all things, does that field have to be movies?
An executive at one of south India’s top media companies, upon being told at a dinner party about AR’s moviemaking plans, said: ‘Does he want to lose all the money he’s made?’
The question sums up the collective doubt nicely. The film industry can bury you. It is doubtful you’ll be able to identify a riskier line of business. Entire studios have been brought down by a single mega-budget movie which tanked at the box office.
AR’s answer to all these questions and doubters and naysayers: ‘I get bored easily.’
