Mother’s Day special: Raghu Dixit brings Amma in three languages

It was overwhelming, to be honest. There was a mix of gratitude, love and a quiet sense of guilt. You suddenly see, with striking clarity, how much of your life rests on someone else’s invisible sacrifices. It was an achingly quiet realisation. And the song just flowed effortlessly from that space. Amma is my way of saying thank you, not just to my mother, but to every mother who quietly holds everything together.

It was because of fans and friends. Friends who heard the song in Tamil wrote to us, asking for a Kannada version. I had that done and then began performing the Kannada version at our concerts.

I remember one particular time we were playing at a school. When I performed this song, it was simply magical. All the mothers lifted their children into their arms and swayed along. I still get goosebumps thinking about that moment. That’s when I realised this needed to be out.

Where do I begin? I couldn’t have thought of a better way to do this. My audiences are like my family, and with my own mother not being around, I chose to go with my family. So, so glad I did that! I can’t begin to tell you how deeply moving the whole experience was. Most of them broke down and cried inconsolably; some of them hugged their mothers for the first time. It was surreal! I think I had tears in my eyes the whole day! Those weren’t performances; those were truths. It was special in the most special of ways. So, so deeply profound and moving!

It wasn’t a calculated decision at all. In the early days, I simply wanted to feel comfortable and grounded while performing. Being barefoot comes from my 18 years of training in Bharatanatyam. On stage, I see the space as a temple, and naturally, I choose to be barefoot.

The veshti, too, is nothing unusual for me; it’s something I’ve grown up seeing around me. If my music had a visual identity, it couldn’t be anything else; it just felt like me, shaped by my upbringing and culture. Over time, it organically became part of who I am on stage.

The unison of emotions is unmatched. A song leaves you, travels through hundreds or even thousands of people, and returns to you louder, fuller, and shaped by the lived experiences of everyone who sings along. Just two days ago, we were performing at a concert where 8,000 people sang my songs with me. They were so loud that my microphone picked up their voices and the sound echoed across the venue. That kind of magic cannot be recreated anywhere else. No award, no million or billion streams, nothing compares to that surreal feeling. Performing live is what I live for. Period.

It feels unexpected, but also strangely cohesive. Bharatanatyam informs my music, which in turn informs my life. Everything is connected. Each thing happened exactly when it was meant to. At the time, every choice felt independent, but today I can see how each one fed into the other, discipline from science, expression from dance, and storytelling through music. I think I was always searching for a way to express something, and music eventually became the final language. That’s all.

Film music teaches you to serve a story that is not your own, which is a beautiful challenge. It sharpens your craft in a different way. Independent music, on the other hand, is deeply personal and instinctive. It is my own story. I enjoy both spaces, and I am always open to returning to Tamil cinema if the right story, collaboration, people, and, most importantly, intent come along. The truth is, despite trying very hard, I cannot make music like a job, where the brief is simply "Here is the story, here is the contract, let’s go.” It does not work that way for me. I need to be inspired and moved. The story or the director has to leave me with an itch I cannot ignore.

The biggest change is access, and how beautifully the world has changed. I spent almost a decade trying to find people who could help support my music. It was incredibly difficult to get your music out there. Today, anyone with a voice and a phone can reach the world. That is powerful. At the same time, it is also more crowded, which makes authenticity even more important. I just want to tell my story, and I will, in the way I want to. Algorithms cannot stop me. Chasing numbers and streams is a game I am not too interested in. Thanks to technology, the audience is evolving too. They are more open, more curious, and more willing to embrace diverse sounds.

It slowed me down and forced me to listen to myself more than anything else. When you go through something like that, you shed a lot of noise and expectation. What comes out on the other side is often more honest and more vulnerable, and therefore more authentic. It changed the way I approach music, less pressure, more truth.

But the biggest lesson of all is this: my struggles taught me that struggle is a natural part of life. That is how life is meant to be, with its own beautiful ups and downs. What remains constant is our verve for life. Everything happens for a reason, and no problem is big enough to define everything.I am reminded of that clichéd phrase and how true it is, when the going gets tough, the tough get going.

All the time. Music is a big part of our conversations, sometimes directly, sometimes just in the way we listen and respond to things. She is an incredible musician with a very distinct voice and a body of work that inspires me every day. To be honest, she is my biggest strength.

We have performed together a couple of times, most recently at a lovely festival in Belgrade. We have not planned anything formally yet, but I am sure it will happen when the time feels right.

There is no dream collaboration. There are many. I am in the midst of one right now, and I will share more soon. Life is incredible in the way it manifests things for you. I am certain I will do everything I desire.

It is a wide spectrum, from Sting to Shakti, from Buena Vista Social Club to Pandit Zakir Hussain and Ali Farka Touré. There are too many to name, actually. Inspiration comes from everywhere if you are listening closely.

I enjoy the simple things, spending time with my wife, cooking, listening to great music, watching great films, reading good books, and listening to podcasts. A quiet dinner with friends is my most precious moment. When I am not making music, I’d rather be doing that.

Not really. Even the mistakes have shaped who I am today. At the time, they may not have made sense, but in hindsight, each one played a part in the journey. I only wish I had started sooner!

Ambar

A quiet moment with myself, just to centre and breathe

It changes constantly. It’s usually a mix of Indian folk, young Indian independent artistes, world music and, most recently Jazz.

There are a few singles lined up for release over the next couple of months, followed by an EP that truly feels like something out of a dream.

In the home I grew up in, for my appa and amma, which sadly will never be!