At the outset, let me tell you that this, what transpired between A R Rahman and I, transpired some time ago. But time doesn't spoil such encounters, if you know what I mean... Rahman, India's highest paid music director, was in San Francisco that day. So was I. He had a concert to give. And me, I had one to attend. Thus was how we were at the same place, same time. "I always pray before I compose a number," a tired-looking Rahman told me when I met him a few hours before the show. "And then I sit down to work with my keyboard, my computer, my harmonium." Finally, it was show time. With Rahman were those many men and women whose voices cajole and caress many of us on a daily basis: S P Balasubramaniam, A Hariharan, Udit Narayan, Shankar Mahadevan, Chitra, Kavitha Krishnamurthy, Sujata, Sadhana Sargam, Sukhwinder Singh... "Look at that nerdy look. We should have brought our recruitment kit, man!" a female voice said. I turned to look. As far as eye could see, there were engineers and scientists. And there they sat, for the next four hours, as the wizard cast his spell. The reviews were now coming in. And they went... "It was the most crisply executed production we have ever seen." "Oh, and the audience was mostly so well-behaved, the security agents could have taken the night off." "And Hariharan, isn't he the sexiest man alive?" "His voice, it's to die for. The tuft, nah..." "And, did you see, wherever we looked, there were those big wheelers and dealers!" "Of course I saw all those entrepreneurs. Some of those entrepreneur wives, with their mismatched high heels! Gawd!" Yes, they were all up in the VVIP rows, those millionaires and billionaires: Internet technocrats, software gurus, networking stalwarts, Java freaks... An ensemble of 57 instrumentalists was on stage to create what Rahman has dubbed the 'symphony' effect. Twenty-two members of the orchestra were from the American Federation of Musicians in New York. Their dazzling array of instruments stumped even Rahman: "A French horn, an oboe, violas, cellos, a double-bass, a harp, a saxophone, a trumpet and many others -- I don't get to work with some of these in India, they're amazing!" A crew of 35 from India, whose proficiency ranged from the Western guitar to traditional south Indian thavil, complemented their foreign counterparts -- and, let it be mentioned, drew many rounds of applause. To every song there was a unique emotional response. As Shankar Mahadevan launched into Que sera (Pukar), armies of screaming second generation teenage girls jumped off their seats and scrambled to the back where there was room to rock and swing. If there were a metre to measure the mental infidelity of women in the audience, the needle would have climbed to new heights as Hariharan teased his way through a prelude of kalpanaswaras, into Sakiye sakiye (Alai Payudhe). Dil hai chota saa (Roja) drove the audience wild. This was the song whose Tamil original (Chinna chinna aasai) catapulted Rahman into instant fame. The song is now an integral part of his concerts. "With Roja, my intent was to cut across cultural and linguistic barriers," its creator told me. "I think it's important to experiment with all kinds of music. For instance, I have played with reggae in Dil hai chota saa and in Rukumani Rukumani I have African chants in the background." Rahman credited open-minded directors like Mani Ratnam with instilling novelty into a formulaic film industry. In turn, Rahman has tried to open the doors to fresh voices in a music industry that has believed, for decades, that every female playback singer should sound like Lata Mangeshkar or Asha Bhosle. Rahman said he always looked for new voices and constantly sought to compose songs to suit a voice. "Anupama of Chandralekha (Thirudaa Thirudaa) fame was one such discovery," he said. Preparations for a tour are exhaustive and exhausting. Deepak Gattani of Rapport Global Events, who directed and co-produced the Rahman show, said that four truckloads of props and equipment travelled with the Rahman crew of 120 people. "When the crew landed in New York, we put up a mock stage inside the airport hangar, which we rented for two days," said Gattani. The tension of having to perform before audiences who have paid dearly for their entry is very high. "I could not sing at first, I was a bundle of nerves," Rahman said, referring to his New York programme, where key singers reached the venue only at the last minute. "How could I sing my piece, not knowing how I was going to wing the concert?" Rahman said. Even though the musicians landed late and were tired and groggy, they had to go up and do their best, jetlag or no jetlag. Opportunities today come knocking on Rahman's door. Last year, he performed a Sanskrit composition titled Ekam Satyam with Michael Jackson for an international charity concert in Munich, Germany. Luciano Pavarotti and Stevie Wonder were two of the other performers at that star-studded event. "Don't you want to perform on Broadway?" I asked the man whose inscrutable face masks the feelings that are so resplendent in his music. Rahman smiled his typical, guarded smile. "That might happen. But I'm happy. I'm happy to continue doing exactly what I've been doing in India for the last eight years." Kalpana Mohan is a freelance writer based in San Jose, California. Tell us what you think of this diary
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