Beyond the Sita-Gita Binary: Asha Bhosle, A Voice That Became Every Woman
A blithe spirit who refused to age, Asha Bhosle showed us that "vulgarity", like beauty, is subjective.
advertisement
Middle-class Indian women of my mother’s generation grew up in conservative households where any kind of association with cinema was considered taboo for women. Families would make an exception for Lata Mangeshkar, as she was considered an incarnation of Saraswati, the Hindu deity representing the arts. It helped that Lata's character was perceived as "blemish-free". She was the older sister who never married, forced to become a breadwinner early in life because she had four younger siblings to raise—Asha, Usha, Meena and Hridaynath.
Early Struggles: Finding a Voice
Like Lata, Asha started singing when she was around ten-years-old. When she was sixteen, Asha tai eloped with a thirty-one-year-old man called Ganpatrao Bhosle, who turned out to be a wife-beater.
In 1960, she walked out of the abusive marriage with two kids in her arms and the third one in her womb. Being a single mother, she was desperate for work, but good work was hard to come by. Her sister, Lata Mangeshkar, had already become the default choice of music directors, and if they wanted a vivacious singer, they turned to the dulcet-voiced Geeta Dutt.
The Mangeshkar Sisters: Asha Bhosle and Lata Mangeshkar
(Photo Courtesy: Instagram/ @asha.bhosle)
At this time, Asha tai briefly benefited from the fallout between the Dutts and Waheeda Rehman, which is why it was Asha, and not Geeta, who sang Bhanwra Bada Nadaan Hai for the Guru Dutt–Meena Kumari–Waheeda Rehman starrer Sahib Biwi Aur Ghulam (1962). A discerning listener can detect how heavily Asha tai was influenced by Geeta Dutt in her early years.
Slowly but surely, she found a unique style and established her own space in the industry.
Breaking Through: Owning Her Space
Owing, perhaps, to her scandalous personal life, many composers initially avoided Asha or gave her only cabaret numbers to sing. Asha would often get a song or two in albums where other female playback singers dominated. It was OP Nayyar who exploited Asha tai's potential fully, giving her albums where she was the sole female playback singer in films like Naya Daur (1957), Kashmir Ki Kali (1964), and Mere Sanam (1965). With Nayyar’s backing, she started getting more offers, which helped her explore her range fully.
Composers such as SD Burman, Roshan, and Madan Mohan recognised her talent. Raj Khosla’s Bambai Ka Babu (1960) was one of the films from that decade where she sang all the songs for the heroine (Suchitra Sen). The album was composed by SD Burman, who also gave Asha two songs in Bimal Roy’s Bandini (1963)—Ab Ke Baras Bhej Bhaiya and O Panchhi Pyare.
Madan Mohan gave her Jhumka Gira Re in Mera Saaya (1966), and the song, picturised on Sadhana, became a huge hit. Roshan gave her memorable qawwalis like Nigahen Milane Ko Jee Chahta Hai from Dil Hi To Hai (1963). Nayyar also made Asha the voice of the hit heroine Asha Parekh, giving her songs such as Jayiye Aap Kahaan Jayenge (Mere Sanam, 1965).
The Pancham Era: Audacity, Freedom, and Reinvention
Asha Bhosle and RD Burman
(Photo Courtesy: Instagram/ @asha.bhosle)
RD Burman may have inherited his creative genes from his famous father, but he believed in challenging the existing order. He specialised in songs of liberation—audacious songs that set everyone free—music that uplifts and makes one feel alive.
The singer, the actor, and the listener became one in that cosmic moment when nothing else matters but the music—Asha was RD Burman’s equal partner in creating songs of quiet rebellion.
Teesri Manzil (1966), RD Burman’s breakthrough film, had Mohammed Rafi singing Aaja Aaja Main Hoon Pyar Tera, to which Asha responded with the now-iconic line—“A-aa-aaja, a-a-aaja…”
Asha tai, who had a terrific sense of humour, once recalled in an interview how she practised singing this in the backseat of a car, and the driver, alarmed, asked if she was alright. She simply told him, “Tu gaadi chala (just drive the car).”
Asha Bhosle and Kishore Kumar
(Photo Courtesy: Instagram/ @asha.bhosle)
In Caravan (1971), when RD Burman screamed “Monica!”, Asha responded with a full-throated Piya Tu Ab To Aaja. When she broke into “Kya khushi kya gham…”, in Hare Rama Hare Krishna (1971) urging you to keep going, it felt like both of them were defying convention—and asking you to do the same.
In Jawani Diwani (1972), Asha tai dropped her voice to a whisper in “Tum kahaan?”, to which Kishore Kumar responded on a soaring high note—“Main yahaan!” Their back-and-forth in Nahi Nahi Abhi Nahi remains the gold standard for restless songs of youth.
Beyond Labels: Sensuality, Range, and Legacy
Every time she sang a seductive number, Asha Bhosle showed us that "vulgarity", like beauty, is subjective. Her songs were never vulgar; they were always true to the situation and the character.
From Mera Naam Shabnam Hai (Kati Patang, 1970) to Raat Akeli Hai (Jewel Thief, 1967), and O Babua Yeh Mahua (Sadma, 1983), she brought nuance, playfulness, and control.
A still of Urmila Matondkar in Rangeela with Asha Bhosle singing Rangeela Re
(Photo Courtesy: YouTube)
In 1996, after RD Burman’s death in 1994, she teamed up with Leslie Lewis to remix popular Pancham numbers like O Mere Sona Re for Rahul and I, while continuing to work with newer composers. When Ram Gopal Verma set out to re-launch Urmila Matondkar, he and AR Rahman chose Asha tai for Rangeela (1995). She sang with such ferocity that you believed every word —“Chal mere sang-sang… ho ja rangeela re"— enthralling yet another generation as we neared the turn of the millennium.
Her range remains staggering. She moved effortlessly across genres—ghazals like Dil Cheez Kya Hai (Umrao Jaan, 1981), semi-classical gems like Piya Baanwari (Khubsoorat, 1980), bhajans like Tora Mann Darpan Kehlaye (Kaajal, 1965), and qawwalis like Na Toh Karwaan Ki Talaash Hai (Barsaat Ki Raat, 1960).
Her non-film work, in India and abroad, is equally celebrated—from Dil Padosi Hai (1987), with RD Burman and Gulzar, to her 2005 tribute to ghazal greats like Mehdi Hassan and Jagjit Singh. Her Grammy nominations—for Legacy (1997), with Ustad Ali Akbar Khan, and You’ve Stolen My Heart (2005), with the Kronos Quartet—came late, but fittingly. Not that she ever complained.
The Woman Who Became Every Woman
The magnificent Mangeshkar sisters were straightjacketed into ‘good girl’ and ‘bad girl’ categories early in their careers. With her versatile singing, Asha tai rejected all such binaries. My generation owes a lot to her—she liberated women through her voice.
She once told a contestant on a reality show, “Khul ke gao. Pet se gao, gale se nahi (sing freely, sing from your stomach not your throat).” And then she demonstrated exactly how. Asha tai believed that singers, like actors, cannot afford to be shy. If you commit to something, you must believe in it wholeheartedly—you must become that character.
Asha Bhosle voicing actor Rekha in Umrao Jaan (1981) for the song Yeh Kya Jagah Hai Doston
(Photo Courtesy: YouTube)
Asha tai was the diva who beckons in Jewel Thief (1967) with “Raat Akeli Hai”; the nautch girl in Umrao Jaan (1981) who wonders, “Mere liye bhi kya koi udaas, beqaraar hai?”; and the seductress who croons, “Yeh hai reshmi zulfon ka andhera”; the playful lover in a blonde wig from Apna Desh (1972), who befools the villain with “Duniya mein logon ko dhokha kabhi ho jata hai”; the royal courtesan in Lekin… (1991), dancing to “Joothe Naina Bole Saanchi Batiyan”; the child-bride in Khushboo (1975), accepting her fate—“Dulhaniya mar jayegi”; the lonely, mute girl in Namkeen (1982), beckoning the clouds with “Phir se aaiyo badra bidesi”; and the beloved who comforts her man with “Jahan main aisa kaun hai” in Hum Dono (1961).
(Nirupama Kotru is a senior civil servant. She has co-edited an anthology on 1970's Hindi cinema, 'The Swinging Seventies', and has also released an album of Nirgun Bhajans titled 'Upasana'.)