How Asha Bhosle constantly pushed boundaries in her non-film collaborations

On his Instagram page, comedian, actor and author Vir Das wrote movingly of Asha Bhosle: “…in Channel V, you got to see a legendary playback singer give her credibility to Indipop and kind of push it into the mainstream”. Calling Asha “way ahead of the game”, he said she was “doing collabs before you called them collabs.” He referred to her 1997 hit Janam Samjha Karo, a time when indipop exploded as artists experimented with pop, rock, electronic, remixes, pop-folk and other sounds. Usually associated with younger voices, Asha's foray into indipop with Jaanam Samjha Karo (which swept MTV Awards that year) at the age of 64 was considered nothing short of revolutionary.

The outpouring of grief for the singer, who died on 12 April at the age of 92, has been unimaginable though not surprising at all. Twice nominated for a Grammy—in 1997 with Ustad Ali Akbar Khan for the album Legacy, and in 2006 for You’ve Stolen My Heart, a collaboration with Kronos Quartet—Asha sang over 12,000 songs in a career spanning eight decades. The number would easily be higher if one adds her non-film work, ghazals, bhajans, regional songs, and indipop. Fans say that the legend’s passing feels personal, and that’s proof of how her voice transcended all age groups—and her zest for live shows belied her own years. Less than two years ago, she performed in Dubai for nearly 3 hours, dancing and singing live in front of thousands. It was endearing to watch the viral videos of Asha singing Tauba Tauba and doing the classic Vicky Kaushal hook step, sometimes holding on to a railing for support.

While the film songs undoubtedly reveal her virtuosity as a singer, her non-film work reveals a musician willing to push the boundaries to experiment and evolve as an artist. What made her voice so distinctive was not just the decades of riyaaz (practice), but also her solid vocal range. Her discipline for riyaaz was unwavering till the very end with her morning practice constituting kharaj or lower octave notes before expanding into a two-and-a-half-octave range. Singer Rekha Bharadwaj, who was performing for Ibtida: Ek Mehfil, New Delhi, on the same day as Asha’s passing, said that just days before, the veteran singer had shared with Bharadwaj a palta (a rhythmic vocal pattern in Indian classical music to improve voice control, increase vocal range, and have better command over the musical notes) that she was practising as part of her riyaaz. “You’d have thought, ‘she doesn’t need any practice, she’s so accomplished already, but at heart she was always a learner, a student of music,” Bharadwaj said.

Those who had seen her in studios before a recording session vouch for this. She retained throughout her career the right mix of enthusiasm and nervousness that any student of music should have. She would pause, go into a quiet zone, read the lyrics, understand every word, practise the right pronunciation, do warm-up exercises, and then record songs. In many of her recorded interviews, Asha stresses the importance of visualising not just the scene and setting of the song, but also the characters etched out on paper. By understanding the journey of a character and an actor’s speech patterns, she brought those nuances into her work to sound more naturally like the actor, a technique Asha evolved for both film and non-film songs. In a recording from a couple of years ago for a reality show, she talks about prepping for Khatuba, a song from Alibaba Aur Chalis Chor, for which she closely observed how azan (call to prayer) in mosques was given.

While everyone talks about Asha's film songs, her triumph was in her collaborations, particularly in non-film music. Ghazal is a difficult genre in that one needs to have mastery over talaffuz (pronunciation) while blending the techniques of aalaps and taans of Hindustani classical music along with the nichod (extraction) of emotions to drive the pathos, longing, nostalgia that the genre typically evokes. Listen to Dayr-e-Dil Ki Raat Mein where the ghazal starts with a duet aalap of Asha and Ghulam Ali. Her voice carries a lilt of quiet confidence, holding its own against the legendary ghazal singer and composer.

Cut to Kabhi To Nazar Milao, another song that she did with Adnan Sami, where she hits the high notes without sounding screechy. A popular 1990s song, this indie number remains a graceful musical composition, with an arrangement that blends piano and percussion and features two very distinctive male and female voices for a soulful melody. Another collaboration with musician Leslie Lewis, for the album Rahul and I for which she sang, among others, her own hit O Mere Sona (accompanied by a music video that weaved a storyline of how R.D. Burman’s spirit becomes Asha's guiding light) is further proof that she was unafraid of experimenting.

Unsurprisingly, the 1990s showed Asha emerging in a new avatar, holding on strong with the might of her voice and the spirit of her eternal youth, to step into a music market that was experimenting with newer sounds. In Bow Down Mister (1990) by British group Jesus Loves You, for instance, comes an impromptu aalap where Asha sings her heart out. It’s a small but significant part towards the end of the song where she elevates it to another level, giving listeners a glimpse of her training in Hindustani classical music. But listen to her in We Can Make It Happen, a song with Code Red where she sings English lyrics and it becomes clear that Asha refused to be pigeonholed as a singer.

The idea that music was a universal language was not lost on Asha, and her non-film work makes evident her hunger to experiment, to learn more about other genres, and to give everything that came her way a shot. Dressed in saris for most of the music videos, here was a singer in her 60s, unafraid of being guided by artists who were half her age, and giving it her all. If Gulzar and R.D. Burman had a formidable partnership, Asha fit into it perfectly, breathing life into many of the lyrics and melodies she sang. Juthe Tere Nain from the album Dil Padosi Hai (1987), for instance, has raag-inspired bandish lyrics and a complicated rhythm, a challenging number that Asha nails with her nuanced murkis and a distinctive style of singing that once again balances her classical training with the technique of film songs. Another 1980s album Aabshar-e-Ghazal, where singer Hariharan composed ghazals sung by Asha, has Log Kehte Hain, which many music students study closely.

The composition requires the singer to move swiftly from low to high notes. One minor error and the song can fall flat. It’s a tough ghazal to sing, and picking it up is a reminder that riyaaz was indeed at the centre of Asha’s prolific career. Asha effortlessly sings this complex melody; it’s something that many perform in live shows, but only after perfecting the high benchmark set by the original singer. It’s tough to define Asha Bhosle’s style of singing, and that’s her biggest win—she wasn’t willing to be bracketed, refusing to play safe, willingly experimenting in so many genres. If her bhakti geet and Marathi bhajans transport the listener to a meditative calm, her collaborations with international bands let listeners get into “chill mode”. It was her refusal to age in terms of her music that kept her going.

She often talked of music breathing life into her, and she kept singing till the end of her life. It was this willingness to learn, adapt, and move on that made her inventive. A successful restaurateur, Asha was also an actor—in Mai (2013), she plays an Alzheimer’s patient abandoned by her children. Her most recent collaboration was with British band Gorillaz’s for their The Mountain album, released earlier this month. It’s philosophical and spiritual as she sings Chal Mere Maajhi, Gehra Hai Paani, Mujhe Jaana Uss Paar (Let’s go, boatman, the water is deep, and I need to cross over), her voice determined, self-assured and filled with depth. And that’s exactly how the singer who called herself “The Last Mughal” in a recent concert lived her life.

Abhilasha Ojha is a Delhi-based art and culture writer.