Soon after I got out of AR Rahman's North Mumbai home (which also doubles up as his studio), I went online. To look up 'Munbe Vaa,' a song in the Tamil movie, Sillunu Oru Kaadhal, for which Rahman had composed the music.
Now, I don't understand a word of Tamil. And I can confidently say—without fear of contradiction from my wife—that I'm rarely 'mushy'. But the moment the song started to play, I was lost. Lost in words I didn't understand, and—I hate to say it—falling in love with love all over again.
We had visited Rahman with a clear brief in mind. There's a section in ForbesLife India , 'The Pursuit of Happiness,' where we talk to people who are perceptibly happy and ask them one central question: How do they achieve happiness? In earlier issues, as part of this series of dialogues, we'd spoken to people like the absolutely lovely Asha Bhosle, Bollywood's original charmer Shammi Kapoor, and the redoubtable Leander Paes who's known to play his tennis with his heart worn loud on his sleeve.
When my colleague Jarshad NK, who has known Rahman now for many years, asked him if he'd spend time with us, I was pleasantly surprised when he agreed; Rahman, to my mind, projected reticence, a deep regard for his privacy, so I'd pretty much taken it for granted he'd politely decline to let us into his head. I was wrong.
And he continued to confound my expectations. There was no name-dropping; he didn't carry the gravitas of somebody who's worked with some of the biggest names in the world; there wasn't the sense of self-importance you'd expect in someone who has won practically every award in the business, including two Oscars and two Grammys.