It catapulted Ratnam and Rahman from stars of their regional Tamil-language scene to mainstream success within the broader Hindi-dominated Bollywood industry. Even before the success of the Roja soundtrack, Ratnam was invested in Rahman's career as a collaborator and mentor. It was Ratnam who encouraged Rahman to mash together beautiful and jarring sounds, and you can hear it at the beginning of "Bombay Theme," which symbolizes Shekar and Shaila's romantic union in contrast to the monstrosity of the violence beyond it. When a technician balked at Rahman's Roja's soundtrack—asking him where the traditional tabla and violin sounds were—Ratnam told him to leave the music as it was. Rahman once told Chennai Times that he remembered Ratnam meeting his mother and telling her, "I'm doing a movie with your son now. If this doesn't work out, I'll do another movie with him." That kind of unequivocal validation was necessary for someone breaking as many conventions as Rahman did in the early '90s. Beaster-Jones argues it was a moment perfectly primed for a new voice: R. D. Burman, the composer credited with introducing rock and disco to Indian folk music, had just died, and a number of influential composer duos, including Laxmikant-Pyarelal and Kalyanji-Anandji, had recently retired. Ratnam had also recently split with Balachander and Ilaiyaraaja, the composers with whom he had made a number of Tamil film songs in the '70s and '80s. Rahman found that voice by incorporating new Western electronic sounds without sacrificing Indian folk influence, specifically the Carnatic sounds of South Indian music, Hindustani classical, and qawwali, an ecstatic form of Sufi music that aims to bring the listener closer to God. While most film music of the time relied on large string sections and orchestras, Rahman worked from his home studio with limited resources. Instead of expensive ensembles or extended studio sessions, he used double-tracking and samples to weave together snippets of sound. His music had a newfound dynamism: the trill of a flute or a cascade of synth surge to the front of the mix for a few seconds at a time, like a jack-in-the-box bursting open and then retreating back. This style of textured, emotional music helped to shape the political contours of his early collaborations with Ratnam. "Kannalanae," a song influenced by qawwali, is sung by Shaila at the beginning of the film as she pines for Shekar's love.