A Fan’s Reflection on A.R. Rahman’s BBC Interview
I am a hardcore A.R. Rahman fan, and that is unlikely to change.
Songs like “Katre En Vaasal” and “Taal Se Taal Mila” are not just tracks for me; they are memories, moods, and milestones. If you scroll through my Apple Music playlist, you will probably find only one or two songs that are not composed by Rahman. That is how deep the connection runs.
Over the years, I have consciously adopted one principle while engaging with public figures:
judge people primarily by the merit of their strengths, and allow room for disagreement when they speak outside their core area of expertise. This distinction matters, especially when artists are pulled into political and cultural debates.
I watched A.R. Rahman’s recent BBC interview in full. Despite the noise and outrage that followed on social media, my personal view of Rahman did not change at all. His music remains untouched by this discussion. That said, a few of his non-musical remarks did trigger debate. While much of the controversy focused on two statements, I personally found three aspects of the interview worth reflecting on.
Language, Identity, and the Hindi Question
What surprised me the most was Rahman’s admission that when he was advised to learn Hindi for career advancement, he instead chose to learn Urdu and Arabic. He also remarked that Tamilians generally find Hindi difficult to learn.
This is not merely a question of linguistic preference. It reflects the socio-political environment in which many Tamil elites are shaped. In Tamil Nadu, resistance to Hindi has long been cultivated as a marker of cultural self-respect. Rahman, in this sense, is not acting as a language ideologue, but he is clearly echoing the narratives of the environment he grew up in.
The irony, of course, is evident. Rahman became a pan-Indian icon largely through Hindi cinema, even while remaining emotionally distant from the language that amplified his reach. This contradiction is not malicious, but it is revealing.
“Something Changed in Bollywood”
Rahman also stated that many people feel Bollywood has changed over the last eight years, though he personally could not confirm this from direct experience. He cautiously added that it might be communal, and that he had heard a few “Chinese whispers.”
This distinction is crucial. What Rahman describes is not lived discrimination, but a perception shaped by conversations within elite circles. It is not personal victimhood, but second-hand inference.
When Rahman’s Bollywood career is viewed objectively, the claim of religious exclusion becomes difficult to sustain. For over two decades, he worked with the industry’s biggest directors, delivered era-defining albums, and received the highest institutional recognition. Bollywood historically has been one of India’s least religion-driven creative industries.
Rahman’s reduced presence in Hindi cinema over the last decade has far more plausible explanations: the collapse of album culture, the rise of remix-driven economics, cost and time incompatibilities, and the broader creative decline of mainstream Bollywood music. These changes sidelined many composers across communities. This is a market shift, not a religious one.
History, Discomfort, and the “Chhaava” Comment
The point where I personally disagreed with Rahman was his comment on the film Chhaava, which he described as divisive, a view echoed by the interviewer.
While cinematic liberties exist, the film broadly attempts to remain faithful to historical events. Discomfort with such portrayals, especially among many Muslims, is understandable. But discomfort alone does not make a historical narrative divisive.
This is ultimately a failure of historical education. When history is not taught honestly as history, later representations feel threatening rather than informative. Ironically, Rahman himself offers the most accurate response to this discomfort elsewhere in the same interview:
“You oppose what you do not know.”
Separating the Artist from the Narrative
The aspects of the interview I disagreed with seem to stem from a combination of limited historical engagement, inherited Tamil ideological conditioning, and elite echo chambers, rather than from malice or conspiracy. There is no need to frame this as jihadist propaganda, nor is there a need to sanctify every statement Rahman makes.
A.R. Rahman the musician is a civilisational asset to India.
A.R. Rahman the public intellectual is human, fallible, and occasionally misinformed.
That distinction is healthy.
Let the debate remain where it belongs.
And let his music continue — abundantly.
