<p>Reams have been written about Asha in the past week, and far better writers than I have waxed eloquent about her versatility, talent and chutzpah. One favourite writer memorably called her “Lata plus.” But Asha was never merely a “plus”; she was an entire affirmation.</p>.<p>The world often treated her as her sister’s shadow, as someone waiting in the wings for her turn. But Asha was always on a stage of her own, the spotlight fixed on the ease with which she sang and the effortless way she tiptoed into genres you would never expect her to master. Take the way she waltzed into the indie-pop scene as if she had been born for it. In truth, those instincts ran deeper. Encouraged by R D Burman, she had long flirted with jazzy thrums here, a hint of Latino rhythm there, a nightclub swing elsewhere. That elasticity served her well when she decided she had to be part of the indie-pop wave of the 1990s.</p>.The playful audacity of Asha Bhosle.<p>Here, then, is a very subjective curation of some of her finest pop numbers, in no particular order:</p>.<p>Raat Shabnami</p>.<p>Although the title track of Asha’s 1997 pop album, ‘Jaanam Samjha Karo’, produced by Leslee Lewis, was one of the defining songs of <br>the era, it is this dulcet late-night number that still pulls you in.</p>.<p class="bodytext">When Asha sings, ‘tehron padi <br />hain raat ye saari’ (the night is <br />still young), my teenage heart beat hard and whispered all the impossible things it dreamt of.</p>.<p class="CrossHead"><span class="bold">Kabhi Toh Nazar Milao</span></p>.<p class="bodytext">The title track of the album of the same name, released at the turn of the century, was on nearly every Top 10 list. Singer-composer Adnan Sami burst onto the Indi-pop scene, and Asha’s gliding “hum bhi toh hain tumhare” and Sami’s piano runs sparkle with an easy chemistry that transformed a seemingly ordinary tune into a decade-long earworm.</p>.<p class="CrossHead"><span class="bold">Parde Mein Rehne Do Remix</span></p>.<p class="bodytext">If you needed more proof of what Asha was made of, look no further than this recreation. Asha was no purist; she had no qualms about remixing her own hit numbers and, mind you, she sang them all over again, with composer Biddu weaving his magic into the reimagined classics on the album ‘Asha Once More’ (1997). I dare say this particular recreation is one up on the original. Allah meri tauba indeed!</p>.<p class="CrossHead"><span class="bold">Jab Samne Tum Aa Jate Ho</span></p>.<p class="bodytext">Asha Bhosle teamed up with Jagjit Singh for the album ‘Dil Kahin Hosh Kahin’ (2000), and the result was slow-burn magic.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The lyrics by Nida Fazli and the music by Aadesh Shrivastava are a mood unto themselves. Asha is at her softest in this number, which feels like two lost souls exchanging stray lines of poetry. There is longing tucked into every pause. When Asha sings, ‘aakar chale na jaana’ (Having come into my life, don’t walk away), Jagjit replies, ‘hum koi waqt nahi hain humdum, jab bhulaoge chale aayenge’ (I am not time, my beloved; I will come whenever you call me). In that poetic exchange lies an intimacy that entire movies have failed to achieve.</p>
<p>Reams have been written about Asha in the past week, and far better writers than I have waxed eloquent about her versatility, talent and chutzpah. One favourite writer memorably called her “Lata plus.” But Asha was never merely a “plus”; she was an entire affirmation.</p>.<p>The world often treated her as her sister’s shadow, as someone waiting in the wings for her turn. But Asha was always on a stage of her own, the spotlight fixed on the ease with which she sang and the effortless way she tiptoed into genres you would never expect her to master. Take the way she waltzed into the indie-pop scene as if she had been born for it. In truth, those instincts ran deeper. Encouraged by R D Burman, she had long flirted with jazzy thrums here, a hint of Latino rhythm there, a nightclub swing elsewhere. That elasticity served her well when she decided she had to be part of the indie-pop wave of the 1990s.</p>.The playful audacity of Asha Bhosle.<p>Here, then, is a very subjective curation of some of her finest pop numbers, in no particular order:</p>.<p>Raat Shabnami</p>.<p>Although the title track of Asha’s 1997 pop album, ‘Jaanam Samjha Karo’, produced by Leslee Lewis, was one of the defining songs of <br>the era, it is this dulcet late-night number that still pulls you in.</p>.<p class="bodytext">When Asha sings, ‘tehron padi <br />hain raat ye saari’ (the night is <br />still young), my teenage heart beat hard and whispered all the impossible things it dreamt of.</p>.<p class="CrossHead"><span class="bold">Kabhi Toh Nazar Milao</span></p>.<p class="bodytext">The title track of the album of the same name, released at the turn of the century, was on nearly every Top 10 list. Singer-composer Adnan Sami burst onto the Indi-pop scene, and Asha’s gliding “hum bhi toh hain tumhare” and Sami’s piano runs sparkle with an easy chemistry that transformed a seemingly ordinary tune into a decade-long earworm.</p>.<p class="CrossHead"><span class="bold">Parde Mein Rehne Do Remix</span></p>.<p class="bodytext">If you needed more proof of what Asha was made of, look no further than this recreation. Asha was no purist; she had no qualms about remixing her own hit numbers and, mind you, she sang them all over again, with composer Biddu weaving his magic into the reimagined classics on the album ‘Asha Once More’ (1997). I dare say this particular recreation is one up on the original. Allah meri tauba indeed!</p>.<p class="CrossHead"><span class="bold">Jab Samne Tum Aa Jate Ho</span></p>.<p class="bodytext">Asha Bhosle teamed up with Jagjit Singh for the album ‘Dil Kahin Hosh Kahin’ (2000), and the result was slow-burn magic.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The lyrics by Nida Fazli and the music by Aadesh Shrivastava are a mood unto themselves. Asha is at her softest in this number, which feels like two lost souls exchanging stray lines of poetry. There is longing tucked into every pause. When Asha sings, ‘aakar chale na jaana’ (Having come into my life, don’t walk away), Jagjit replies, ‘hum koi waqt nahi hain humdum, jab bhulaoge chale aayenge’ (I am not time, my beloved; I will come whenever you call me). In that poetic exchange lies an intimacy that entire movies have failed to achieve.</p>