QFR concert rings melodies across the diaspora’s heart in the Greater Chicago Area

QFR’s tribute to Ilaiyaraaja rekindles nostalgia in the Tamil diaspora

Quarantine from Reality (QFR) band, with its origins during the COVID years, brings Tamil film music’s timeless melodies back to life, stirring nostalgia for a cherished past.

On Sunday, May 4, 2025, the Hindu Temple of Greater Chicago in Lemont, Illinois, hosted their “High 5 Tour” concert, organized by RR International, a well-known Indian cultural group promoting music, theater, films, and events across Chicagoland.

QFR, known for refreshing Ilaiyaraaja’s (IR) pre-CD era songs with clear sound engineering, captivated a mostly elderly crowd, eager to relive memories on a fine Sunday evening.

My introduction to the band came during the COVID lockdown when my father raved about Ms. Subashree Thanikachalam’s engaging stories about Tamil film music. As a big fan of IR’s songs, I was hooked right away, even though I didn’t know her as a popular TV host who ran music shows, since I rarely watch TV, especially Tamil channels.

QFR’s online sessions, a fan-funded project led by Subashree, brought IR classics to life, offering comfort and connection.

Soon, it grew into a global music movement, garnering a worldwide audience.

Joining the concert audience, I was excited to travel back in time.

Subashree promised 30 songs, but I counted 42, including bits and pieces in segments. I’ll reflect on a select few – all IR’s, of course!

Song: Paruvame, Movie: Nenjathai Killadhe

The concert started with swaras and the percussionist’s lap-tapping, mimicking IR’s jogging sound trick, hinting at Paruvame from Nenjathai Killadhe.

I was hopeful.

My hope did not disappoint me!

Paruvame began soon after. Slowly and steadily.

IR’s songs from early years mean a lot to me for their fresh, lively feel. Some, like this one, tie me closely  – an umbilical connection if you will, to the Madras I grew up in. I clearly remember watching it on Oliyum Oliyum on Doordarshan one Friday night, racing a few feet to the TV to turn up the volume when the song came on, as we always did for his songs.

Its soft melody took me back to the city’s old days, even though it was filmed in Bengaluru.

Song: Rasathi Unna Kaanadha Nenju, Movie: Vaidehi Kathirunthal

QFR’s poignant rendition of this song, honoring the late P. Jayachandran carried the sorrow of 1984’s Vaidehi Kathirunthal, its hero’s death mirroring India’s tragic year.

India’s tragic year, eh?

Yes, very much.

That year began with the diplomat Ravindra Mhatre in Birmingham in England, by the JKLF, followed by Operation Blue Star, Indira Gandhi’s assassination, Delhi’s anti-Sikh riots, and the Bhopal gas tragedy.

Figures like Rajiv Gandhi, who became the new PM, and cricketer Mohammed Azharuddin, who made his debut, later faced sad endings. Rajiv with his Assassination, and Azhar with his involvement in a cricket scandal. Also, Tamil Nadu’s very own Puratchi Thailavar MGR also had a major health scare, having been admitted to a Brooklyn hospital for an extended period of time.

Sometimes I wonder if George Orwell’s 1984 cast a dystopian shadow over India in that year.

Now, back to the song.

Honestly, I’ve never been fond of songs from the film, have never played the songs voluntarily any time in my life. I sat through the song wondering.

Is it because the movie’s grief is tied to that turbulent era in my subconscious mind space subconsciously? I don’t know.

However, I am still left wondering.

Song: Idhu Oru Nila Kaalam, Movie: Tik Tik Tik

I am actually fond of this song.

This IR classic, with its seductive tone, lively tempo, and crisp, playful rhythm, captured the urban pulse of Bharathiraja’s rare city-themed film.

I remember watching it in a theater with my parents and brother.

The sight of Indian girls in skimpy outfits, bold for the 80s,  left every parent, mine included, stunned by the song’s end. No such shock stirred the temple auditorium, where the troupe sang it with dignity and grace, delighting all.

Allow me to digress a bit now.

This song reminds me of Mundhanai Mudichu, a movie that my parents never took me to watch apparently because of its naughty bits. I have heard about that Murungakkai anecdote, don’t know what it means.

I have never watched this movie in stubborn protest.

I am not sure if I have missed the key to life by ditching this movie.

BGM: Final Scene, Movie: Kadhalukku Mariyadhai

I also loved IR’s BGM from the final scene of Kadhalukku Mariyadhai. This is one of the BGMs I watch on YouTube regularly.

QFR’s rendition, with its strong feeling, filled the auditorium, reviving the 1997 film’s magic.

In the late 90s, amid A.R. Rahman’s soaring popularity and heated IR-ARR debates, this BGM’s emotive power shone through, a testament to IR’s genius in this very refreshing climax.

The tender notes carried me back to watching it at General Cinema on 75th and Lemont Road in Woodridge, Illinois – our favorite Tamil movie hub in the greater Chicago area back in those days. The organizing couple usually brought some chai/ coffee for the retreat – a soulful drink for the bachelors.

By then, I was a long-settled member of the Indian diaspora in the area.

An America Vaazh Thamizhan, you see.

Song: Kannan Vandhu Paadugiran, Movie: Rettai Vaal Kuruvi

This is a quintessential IR song, with its signature blend of tradition and innovation.

QFR’s performance of Kannan Vandhu Paadugiran, an 80s classic with its melody and masterful orchestration, captured his fusion of tradition and modern flai,r keeping the audience hooked.

This song brought back memories of watching the film on a grainy VHS – a story about a guy caught up with two wives, its romantic vibe still strong today.

The movie’s plot got me thinking – Indian history is packed with kings juggling a dozen wives, and hundreds of concubines, and even more sidekicks, so why are they all a taboo suddenly?

What’s up with this Oruvanukku Oruthi stuff?

This thought lingers as to how narratives have shaped our today’s lives.

Song: Sandhana Kaatre, Movie: Thanikkattu Raja

Sandhana Kaatre from Thanikkattu Raja, a scintillating duet picturizing Rajinikanth and Sridevi, shone with its melody. QFR’s rendition brought out this star pair’s timeless chemistry, wrapping the audience in romantic magic.

These are just a few of the several that revved up my memories on this day.

QFR’s impact on the diaspora

IR entered the music scene in 1976. Tamil folks saw pre-1976 songs as old and his stuff as new.

Now, this has shifted big time. Even A.R. Rahman’s Roja from 1992 feels “old” to the younger generation.

Irrespective of the era, the classics rendered by the band on that day brought our culture back alive for us in the diaspora.

Tamil music’s always been a big part of who we are, sharing stories of love, hardship, and happiness. From early singers to later stars, these songs have kept music scene in the diaspora alive, passed down through families and countries. QFR’s performance was a fun nod to this history, showing how music connects us to our roots.

The concert was a great tribute to Tamil film music, celebrating musicians from way back. Songs from the 1950s, 60s, and 70s must have taken older folks back to their younger days, like stories from old movies. Each tune perhaps carried bits of past romances – secret looks under tamarind trees, naughty glances in bus stops, or those silent smiles shared in college halls – sparking memories in their eyes.

Who knows what stories those uncles and aunties were reliving?

Enakku eppadi theriyum?

Indha vambu ellam enakku vendam pa.

A single A R Rahman classic, Kandukondain Kandukondain from the 2000 film, brought a modern flourish to the ambience. The concert closed with a set of lullabies, a refreshing shift from the usual fast-paced finales. Those delicate notes lingered on as we drove home, leaving us warm and full.

For those of us in the diaspora, long distanced from our roots, music offers a lifeline to our culture. Each song brought memories of home – sipping tea at a roadside stall, the crackle of a bus audio playing familiar tunes, listening to IR vs MSV debates amongst family elders, or memories of an audio recording shop we frequented, where these melodies spilled out, tying us to our past. These songs brought that world closer, a strong link to the place we carry inside.

In many ways, this QFR concert was a homecoming. My heartfelt gratitude goes to the organizer, RR International, for this wonderful night, to all the artists for stellar performances, and to Subashree Thanikachalam, whose curation bridged continents.

For this diaspora heart, these songs are a promise to keep our culture’s flame alive, always pulling us back to our civilizational home.

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2. The views expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily represent or reflect the views of PGurus.

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