Fine-tuned genius

Biographers have it easier as storytellers, considering the story is already in place; all they have to do is recount it in ways that enthral even those with little interest in the subject.

Krishna Trilok’s Notes of a Dream: The Authorized Biography of AR Rahman unravels aspects of the musician’s life, but fails to make it a riveting read. Trilok’s earlier novel Sharikrida won acclaim from lovers of fantasy stories.

As a detailed map of Rahman’s career, complete with highs and lows, Notes is invaluable. We learn, for example, about Rahman’s father, RK Shekhar, a gifted harmonium player who was a composer, arranger and conductor for Malayalam movies in the ’60s. Before his untimely death at the age of 53, Rahman’s father composed music for 24 films and assisted in over a hundred, holding his own in an industry crowded with music directors.

Shekhar encouraged Rahman’s interest in music, even getting a guitar made for the boy, which he shared with his sister. Rahman began to train in both Indian classical and Western music, the latter from the composer Master Dhanraj, who had taught his father as well as many others in Chennai’s film music industry.

Like all parents, Shekhar wanted his son to have a college education, and Trilok notes that Rahman “claims that he had always a great interest in science, and, left to his own devices, would have followed that path.” But destiny steered Rahman down another road.

Trilok’s narrative follows that road closely, placing milestones along the way to indicate every twist and turn in Rahman’s career. We also meet the many people who were instrumental in shaping the musician’s life. Of them, Kareema Begum, Rahman’s mother, shines through. She comes across as a beacon of quiet strength and unwavering love, whose management skills and faith in her son’s talent helped establish the 11-year-old fatherless boy firmly in the Malayalam music scene as an instrumentalist. That was Rahman’s take-off point. Soon, he was playing the keyboard for almost all composers, some of whom would cancel the recording session if he was not able to juggle his appointments to make it in time.

Kareema’s presence weaves in and out of the narrative, with descriptions of her acumen in helping him hone his talent, build his studio and source the best equipment, as well as choosing his wife, Saira Banu, who would prove to be the perfect partner for him. Rahman’s devotion to his mother comes through in his love for her rasam rice and prawn curry, and, above all, in the double-layered tribute inherent in the words of the song “Ma, tujhe salaam” , which references both mother and motherland.

Trilok features prominent voices from the music and film industry such as producer duo Trilok Nair and Sharda Trilok, film directors Balachandar and Bharat Bala, producer-director Mani Ratnam, and music director Ilaiyaraaja. That, perhaps, is the drawback of this book. With too many voices, it reads like a long journalistic work rather than a glimpse into the life and mind of a much-loved musical genius. The narrative takes many diversions that distract from the main topic. For instance, there are asides that try to explain to the reader Mani Ratnam’s work or Ilaiyaraaja’s status, or even the importance of Sony Music in the Indian context. The voices intrude, and loudest among them is the awe-tinged voice of the author himself.

In contrast, the segments that talk about Rahman — the man, his method of working, his unceasing passion for music — are humane and touching. When the composer is asked how he likes to relax after a long, hard stretch of work, he runs his fingers over the keyboard and says, “I don’t need anything else.” This reveals more than what anyone else can say about the man. Also evocative is the image of a young Rahman taking apart toys and even a sequencer just to find out what makes them work. In such curiosity lies the secret of the technical wizardry he brings to his compositions.

The chapter describing the 2009 Academy Awards, at which Rahman performed, follows the rule of ‘show, don’t tell’, where the author lets the images unfold and allows the eloquence of the moment to speak for itself. As does the word picture drawn by Trilok of Rahman at his stage shows in a loose, billowing shirt, evoking Michael Jackson, whom Rahman admired. The recounting of how he got to perform with Jackson in 1999 is another golden moment in the book.

Notes of a Dream: The Authorized Biography of AR RahmanKrishna TrilokPenguinNon-fiction₹599

That, then, is why I felt this book is rather patchy. It intersperses warm, touching, almost cinematic moments from the life of a man obsessed with music and recognised as one of the world’s greats in his field, with a babel of voices that go back and forth detailing his career moves.

The book is a worthy chronicle of an amazing journey. Undoubtedly, it is great reference material for any armchair journalist. It would have been irresistible had the author been a little more like Rahman himself — quiet, and letting his work speak for itself.

Sathya Saran is a journalist and editor based in Mumbai

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