Ta Dhom Two Worlds, One Sound
Mumbai moves to a beat of its own. Tin roofs echo with the patter of rain, alleys hum with the shuffle of feet, and somewhere in the chaos, a group of young men rhyme their survival. Their rap is raw and unfiltered, and their direction uncertain, until an unexpected rhythm enters their lives.
It comes in the form of a maverick music producer, Viveick Rajagopalan, one ear tuned to the city’s grind, the other to a centuries-old art from the south: Konnakol, the Carnatic tradition of speaking rhythm. Here, syllables don’t just mean that they drum. Every breath is a measure, every sound a pulse.
At first, the boys stumble. Rap moves in bars they know well, but Konnakol dances to time cycles far more intricate. What starts as clumsy imitation turns into obsession. Public gardens become rehearsal halls, street corners morph into stages. As their verses bend and weave through ancient patterns, Mumbai’s clatter becomes part of their music.
Their sound transforms, no longer just the fire of rebellion, but also the discipline of tradition. Hip-hop laced with the heartbeat of Southern India. A voice for the streets that speaks in centuries-old syllables. It is where discipline meets defiance. It’s where the deeply rooted cadence of Carnatic music finds its way into the street cipher, and where young men from different worlds discover that rhythm. Whether ancient or modern, it speaks the same truth.
Ta-Dhom is the story of that transformation of young artists finding their compass in a rhythm older than their city. It is the music of survival and reinvention, of rebellion that bows to tradition without losing its fire.
It’s an identity, a protest; which the city learns to listen to.