My roots are Carnatic music. I think everything stems from that.

Hear the words of Sid Sriram, a singer who bridges worlds, who declared: “My roots are Carnatic music. I think everything stems from that.” In this saying lies a truth both ancient and eternal: that a man’s roots define his strength, that all growth springs from the soil in which he is first planted. Carnatic music, born of devotion, discipline, and centuries of tradition, became the foundation from which his voice now rises across continents. Just as the great banyan spreads its branches far and wide yet is forever nourished by its roots, so too does the artist flourish when he honors the ground that gave him life.

The ancients themselves proclaimed the power of roots. The sage Confucius taught that to know oneself, one must first know the ancestors, for a tree without roots will wither though its branches be many. In India, the rishis declared that music itself was divine offering, born of breath and prayer. Carnatic music, with its intricate ragas and rhythms, is not merely sound but spiritual practice, a binding of the earthly to the eternal. By calling it his root, Sid Sriram affirms that no matter the heights of fame or the blending of genres, his soul is anchored in sacred tradition.

Consider the story of Maya Angelou. Though she traveled the world and wrote of the vast human condition, she often said that her grandmother’s wisdom and the spiritual songs of her youth were the roots of her strength. From those simple beginnings sprang poems that moved nations. In the same way, Sid Sriram, though he sings across styles—soul, R&B, film music—draws his authenticity from the soil of Carnatic music, where discipline, humility, and depth of feeling were planted in him as a child.

This reveals a great paradox: the deeper one’s roots, the broader one’s branches. Those who abandon their foundations in pursuit of novelty are easily blown by the winds of change. But those who remain anchored may stretch endlessly, blending new with old, without losing their identity. Thus, Sriram teaches that to embrace one’s roots is not to be confined, but to be empowered to explore without fear. For a tree does not grow tall by rejecting its roots, but by sinking them deeper.

And what is Carnatic music, if not a discipline that teaches endurance? Long hours of practice, the repetition of scales, the mastery of improvisation within sacred structure—this is not merely training, but the cultivation of patience and reverence. From this wellspring, Sriram learned not only music but life: that freedom without foundation is chaos, and that innovation without memory is hollow. His words remind us that all greatness stems from the harmony of root and branch, of past and present.

The lesson for us is clear: discover your roots. They may be in your family, your culture, your faith, or your craft. Do not despise them, even if they seem small or ordinary, for they are the soil from which your future will grow. Honor them, and draw strength from them, even as you venture into new lands of experience. For without roots, success is shallow and fleeting; but with them, even storms cannot break you.

Practical wisdom follows: learn your traditions, honor your teachers, keep alive the practices that formed you. If you are an artist, return often to the art of your ancestors. If you are a thinker, revisit the wisdom of those who came before. If you are a worker, remember the values that shaped your beginnings. By doing so, you keep your roots alive, and from them everything else will stem—courage, creativity, and resilience.

Thus the saying of Sid Sriram becomes a song for all generations: “My roots are Carnatic music. I think everything stems from that.” It is not merely his story, but a universal truth: greatness is born from honoring where you came from. Let us all remember our roots, for only then shall our branches rise toward the sky and our fruits endure for those yet to come.