There are two Rahmans. The pious worshipper (hands towards heaven, "Ella pugazhum iraivanuke" humility) composing songs as if he is constructing a carefully worded prayer to the Almighty and the dude with a cool attitude sporting a Levis jeans with an I-pod on his ears (which blurts out "Pappu can't dance saala!" ) hanging around the nearby mall. Khwaja meri Khwaja and Kabhi Kabhi Aditi. Soul and Surprise. Magic and Mischief. Rahman is both of them.

In the initial days, what attracted me to him was the second factor. "No Problem" in "Lovebirds" still defines Rahman to me. Especially, those words which Rahman so emphatically (and prophetically) sings: "Ulagamellam engal Tamil paatu" (The whole world reverberates with our Tamil songs).More than the magic, it was the mischief in instrumentation and sound arrangements which pulled me to Rahman. (Imagine Ilayaraja's "Raajadhi rajan indha raja" song with the sound of Rahman and the reader will realize what Ilayaraja had forgotten to add in his songs).

"May Maadham" remains a stirring showpiece of the extremes which Rahman could scale. More than the peace of "Maargazhi poove" or the soul of "En mel vizhundha", I fell in love with that ode to the Old Madras "Madrasa suthi parka " in which Manorama so delightfully kicks off with a motor car-mimic of a "durr" sound and there is "Paalakaatu machanuku" whose orchestrations, that little-boy's hyper-crazy voice, that violent guitar work in the "Chittu Kuruvi" part are all so steeped in mischief. I envy all the teensters who listened to that song on the audio CD's release.

As time passed on, the mischief suddenly started disappearing (sometime after "Boys" and "Yuva", I feel) and even the occasional mischief was covered in deep layers of complexity that unraveling them itself took considerable effort before which the mood to look for mischief disappeared. Post 2005, Rahman either did ordinary albums (Sivaji) or extraordinary albums (Delhi 6) but all albums (no exceptions) had "those layers" which took time to sink in. Some people hated this extra effort required and switched to lighter stuff of Harris Jeyaraj while we die-hard Rahmaniacs waited patiently for that spark to occur creating the famous theory "Listen to Rahman many times to enjoy his music".

Everyone did enjoy after all those multiple-time listenings but that old contagious mischief which was so simple and direct was nowhere to be seen. Then, the Oscars happened. Suddenly, Rahman was everywhere. On the cover of magazines, masks of school children, prime time TV. My Rahman was suddenly the whole world's Rahman. Rahman had reached a point where he could feel that he had done all things safe. He forsakes safer harbors and ventured into deep waters. All his songs became more idiosyncratic and personal giving a lot of time for me to grasp and jump in joy.(The vocals in "Usure Pogudhey" would have taken over in 20 seconds rather than the 1 minute taken after that pleasant prelude had it been the Old Rahman.)

Suddenly, headlines declare that "127 Hours" is getting nominated for Golden Globe and Oscars too is not a distant dream. The proud Indian in me wants Rahman to win the GG and Oscar, talk in Tamil and Hindi on the Oscar stage, do more Hollywood soundtracks with no songs, perform "Jai Ho" in Nobel Prize concerts, give interviews about the globalization of Indian Music, do the occasional Toyota Ads or Mani Ratnam movies. The selfish Rahman fan in me wants him to throw away all those Oscars, Grammys, Academy Awards, Nobel Prize Concerts, US channel interviews and come running to me and compose another "Palakaatu Machanukku Paatu na Usiru". I have many other Best Indians to look up to. Let Rahman remain my best friend forever. Happy birthday thalaiva!