'Thug Life', Mani Ratnam's upcoming film, will mark his nineteenth collaboration with A. R. Rahman.
In 'Mirzapur', minister JP Yadav once tells Kaleen Bhaiya, the notorious businessman, “Hum hai toh tum ho.” Kaleen Bhaiya coolly replies, “Hum dono ek doosre se hain.” Now, Mani Ratnam and A. R. Rahman would never exchange such words—but that line captures their creative partnership perfectly. Each is a master in his own right: Ratnam, the visionary filmmaker who paints emotions with cinema; Rahman, the maestro who sculpts silence into soul-stirring sound. But when their worlds collide, it's magic. Ratnam’s visuals breathe deeper when set to Rahman’s music, and on the other hand, Rahman’s compositions find new dimensions within Ratnam’s frames. It’s alchemy. It's like kachori and chutney. Yes, kachori on its own is delicious. But dip it in chutney, and suddenly it’s an experience.
It all began in 1992 with 'Roja'. A young A. R. Rahman made his debut, and it was Mani Ratnam who placed his trust in the newcomer, introducing the world to a musical genius. Together, they went ahead to change the sound of Indian cinema. Eighteen iconic films later, they’re back with their 19th, 'Thug Life'. And as Ratnam turns 69 today, what better time to celebrate a duo that’s given us goosebumps, tears, and tunes we can’t stop humming?
One of the most magical things about Mani Ratnam and A. R. Rahman’s partnership is how effortlessly Ratnam’s visuals and Rahman’s music breathe together—as if they were born from the same pulse. In all their films, music completes the image. For instance, the haunting stillness of Roja's snowy landscapes is enhanced by Rahman’s aching strings. The frantic energy of Dil Se's "Chaiyya Chaiyya" unfolds atop a moving train, where the music and visuals move as one. Ratnam's mastery of visual rhythm (his use of slow pans, montages, and sharp edits) finds its soulmate in Rahman’s intricate arrangements, ambient layers, and evolving melodies. Even background scores feel like inner monologues of the characters, syncing perfectly with Ratnam’s close-ups and silences. It’s not just about what we see or hear—it's how we feel both, at once.
Credit: Music Remastered
Rahman, in several of his interviews, has said, "I try to find the soul of the story, not just the tune." And that's most evident in Mani Ratnam's films.
Ratnam’s films are filled with recurring visual symbols that speak for his characters. Rain often signals emotional rebirth or turmoil (Roja, Alaipayuthey), fire burns with suppressed rage or transformation (Dil Se, Raavanan), and mirrors reflect inner conflict or duality (Kannathil Muthamittal, Guru). Even the recurring image of couples on a bus is a metaphor for shared journeys, uncertain destinations, and fleeting freedom. What makes these images more powerful is how Rahman builds musical motifs around them. Listen closely, and you'll notice that recurring notes, ambient hums, or echoing instrumentals subtly return whenever a visual symbol reappears. In Bombay, the gentle motif from “Kannalane” resurfaces whenever love is tested. In Raavanan, tribal rhythms grow fiercer as the fire intensifies. Together, their language is layered—Ratnam shows it, Rahman sings it, and we feel it.
Credit: API Tamil Songs
In Mani Ratnam’s world, the plot is never the star—emotion is. His stories are never driven by plot points and twists but by what his characters feel, fear, and long for. And A. R. Rahman, more than anyone, gets that. He scores the soul of a scene. In Alaipayuthey, the story of a young couple in love is simple, but Rahman’s music grows heavier as cracks appear in their marriage. In OK Kanmani, the breezy “Mental Manadhil” bursts with excitement as love blooms, while the soft background strains mirror their doubts later. Even in Guru, the plot of a man building an empire takes a backseat to his hunger, his rage, and his ambition—all captured in the swelling score and the defiant energy of “Maiyya Maiyya”. Ratnam builds emotional tension with his frames, and Rahman amplifies it—that's the USP of their camaraderie.
Credit: SonyMusicSouthVEVO
Mani Ratnam’s films are celebrated for their technical brilliance. Be it the way light falls, the colors that dominate a scene, or the rhythm of the edits, every frame feels carefully crafted that evokes emotions. But what truly elevates all of it is Rahman’s music, which flows through them (not just accompanies them). In Bombay, soft lighting and warm tones are paired with heartbreaking melodies like “Kannalane”. In Dil Se, top-angle shots and fast cuts during “Satrangi Re” are paired with a rising, almost breathless musical build—capturing obsession through both sight and sound. The golden hue of Guru’s flashback scenes glows warmer with nostalgic melodies that reflect the character’s journey. Even Ratnam’s editing rhythm is always in sync with Rahman’s shifts in tempo. It’s as if the music already knows how the shot is lit or cut. In Ponniyin Selvan, where grand war montages, dim torch-lit chambers, and slow-motion edits are stitched together with regal, Rahman's layered scores feel like they’re part of the structure itself.
Credit: Tips Tamil
Mani Ratnam’s cinema lives in two worlds at once. It's like walking a tightrope between the real and the poetic. There’s the political urgency in Roja, the communal unrest in Bombay, and the heartbreakingly relatable love story in Alaipayuthey. Yet, within that realism, there’s beauty and lyricism—like lovers meeting in a train station bathed in golden light, or rain falling (at exactly the right moment) like a character of its own. Rahman taps into this duality. His music is just as layered (classical roots), yet boldly experimental. In Dil Se, the earthy intensity of “Jiya Jale” lives right next to the pulsating “Chaiyya Chaiyya”. In Guru, vintage-style orchestration meets modern music elements. Kadal swings between Carnatic melodies and synth-heavy beats. Ponniyin Selvan fuses ancient ragas with sweeping, cinematic arrangements.
Credit: AP International
This blend is where their worlds meet. Always balanced.
Over the decades, Mani Ratnam and A. R. Rahman have created a language so deeply intertwined, that it’s hard to imagine one without the other. A Mani Ratnam frame without Rahman’s music feels incomplete. As we await Thug Life, here’s hoping the duo strikes gold once again and gives us yet another unforgettable experience.
Happy Birthday, Mani Ratnam!
