Sandeep Heble
When a legend speaks and an accomplished journalist listens, the outcome should ideally be something lasting. That is precisely what the conversation between A. R. Rahman and BBC’s Haroon Rashid offers. It is measured, expansive, intelligent and grounded in music and lived experience. Rahman is not merely a composer. He is an institution, someone who has shaped how India hears itself and how the world hears India. Haroon Rashid, calm and probing without being intrusive, belongs to a rare breed of interviewers who allow artists to think aloud rather than perform for headlines. By any reasonable measure, this interview deserved to be archived and celebrated. Instead, it has triggered needless outrage.
Having watched the entire 86-minute conversation across multiple sittings, the backlash feels both surprising and sadly predictable. We live in an age where listening has been replaced by reacting, and context by clipping. Many now approach public conversations with hostility, constantly scanning for lines that can be taken out of context and weaponised. Offence has become a reflex. In this case, lifting one or two sentences and assigning sinister intent to them says far more about our social media culture than about either Rahman or Rashid. Both remain thoughtful, careful and constructive throughout.
For anyone who genuinely loves music, Rahman’s worldview feels familiar and reassuring. He speaks of art resisting boundaries, of music belonging to everyone, of cultures flowing into each other without friction. He reflects on how a South Indian composer navigates Hindi cinema, on the coexistence of Sufi philosophy, Carnatic rigour, Hindustani accessibility, Malayalam rootedness and Western influences. There is no ranting here, no grievance, no bitterness. Only reflection.
What is particularly troubling is the familiar pattern of selective outrage. Rahman’s passing remark about a “power shift” in the industry, where non-creative forces increasingly shape creative decisions, is cautious and second-hand. He himself frames it as hearsay. He levels no communal allegation, names no villain. Shankar Mahadevan has expressed similar concerns before. Rahman even sidesteps more sensitive questions, such as collaborations with certain singers, choosing restraint over provocation. This is hardly the behaviour of someone seeking controversy. If anything, his tone is optimistic, viewing the present as a phase that will eventually correct itself.
The irony is hard to miss. Many of the loudest critics today were once the harshest voices attacking Bollywood during the Sushant Singh Rajput episode. Now, they rush to defend the industry as if it has always been a meritocracy. History tells us otherwise. From Mohammed Rafi’s sidelining in the 1970s to Amit Kumar walking away in the 1980s, from Suman Kalyanpur and Vani Jayaram to S. P. Balasubrahmanyam and S. Janaki, countless artists have spoken about lobbies and exclusion. Rahman does not even go there. Yet his mild observations are enough to spark outrage.
Ironically, the controversy has only amplified the interview’s reach. That may be its one unintended benefit. Haroon Rashid deserves credit for drawing Rahman out gently, guiding listeners through a remarkable body of work like a musical historian. From Roja and its uncertain beginnings, to Bombay, Dil Se, Rangeela, Lagaan, Swades, Rang De Basanti, Rockstar and beyond, the conversation unfolds like a cherished scrapbook. Rahman speaks of technology, faith, experimentation and vulnerability with rare honesty.
What stands out most is his humility. There is no self-mythologising, only quiet reflection. Which brings us to an uncomfortable question. How did a composer who gave us Lagaan and Rang De Basanti suddenly become “problematic” because of selectively quoted lines?
If we continue to judge thoughtful, hour-long conversations through the lens of outrage culture, we are not critiquing. We are conditioning ourselves to be cynical.
For me, this interview remains one of the better conducted, more enriching conversations in recent memory. A solid nine out of ten for both Rahman and Rashid. A reminder of what listening, really listening, can still offer. Jai Ho.
