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.
That was Rahman’s life in his teens. He would go off to school early in the morning and as soon as he was done—and sometimes before he was done—he would have to run off to play for a recording, which might go on well into the night. Sometimes, he would have to leave school halfway or sacrifice a night’s sleep to attend an urgent recording or fix a piece of equipment.
‘He would go out to work and we, the sisters, would help Mom out with the house,’ remembers Raihanah. ‘I was in charge of dusting, among other things, but I had an allergy, so I would do it only as rarely as I could get away with. And Rahman is very particular about neatness. I’m a little untidy myself, but he needs everything in his environment to be picture-perfect. If he sees a littered couch, he’ll get annoyed. And when he saw me not doing the dusting properly, he would say, “I’ll go see her house after she gets married. If she keeps that house clean, no . . .”’
Even at this time, AR had some other independent musical ventures, outside of bands. In 1987, he composed an album called Disco Disco (‘It had lots of other musical styles besides disco,’ AR notes) with the singer–actor Malaysia Vasudevan. There was also Deen Isai Maalai, an album of Sufi music recorded in 1989. It was, as it so happens, the very first piece of music recorded at Panchathan Record Inn. It wasn’t, according to AR, a commercial venture.
AR also recorded an English album with a singer named Malgudi Subha called Set Me Free. It was released in 1990 and it sold only a few hundred copies. It was rereleased in 1996 and did better commercially.
‘It was all very different-sounding music,’ says Raihanah, ‘but there was no chance these albums could have been hits. They had very small budgets. You need your music to be in movies if you want it to really be heard in this country.’
After Set Me Free, AR did not record an album of non-film music again until Vande Mataram happened in 1997. In 1992, he played the keyboard for an album called Colours, with musicians Zakir Hussain and Kunnakudi Vaidyanathan.
‘Despite the fact that he was the breadwinner of the family, Rahman never once said he was the boss or said “look at all that I’m doing for you all” even once,’ says Raihanah. ‘I never heard him utter those words on even a single occasion. And that’s why I respect him—because he never expects it. I can’t respect anyone who demands it. He did what he did for us naturally, like breathing air. He never said “I did this for you”. We were never very affectionate with each other, but he’s always there for me when I need him.’ She adds, ‘It’s when I’m happy, actually, that he’s not around.’
It was a hard and strange life for someone of that age, no doubt, but rewarding in its own way. And it probably did more to teach the young AR about the merits of working hard, and all that it gave one in return, than any course or teacher ever could have.
