Random Thoughts

Songs of remembrance

by Ranjita Biswas | @twfindia 17 Apr 2026, 11:24 am

Legendary singer Asha Bhosle has left us at the ripe old age of 92. Accolades, remembrance notes, tributes poured in from different corners of the world, all richly deserved. A world record holder with more than 12,000 songs, multiple awards, a singer at ease in many languages have added to her formidable reputation. I am, not was, just one of her millions of admirers. At a personal level, her songs are intertwined with my journey of growing up from girlhood to mature age - each stage marked by an iconic song of hers - call it nostalgia, as I think of Asha-tai now. 

O mere Sona re, Sona re from Teesri Manzil (1966) will always be associated with my cusp year between adolescence and youth. That was the time when watching films in a hall was the only form of entertainment for us, besides listening to the radio and a weekly date with Binaca Geetamala. I remember my trip to the hall with my cousin in a town in upper Assam where we spent our extended winter holidays during Shillong’s cold winter. It was perhaps the first bloom of youth and my awakening to it that made my heart quicken as Shammi Kapoor and Asha Parekh romped around the gardens- as was common in Hindi films of the 60s.

Who can forget Aage bhi jaane tu (Waqt, 1965). Listening to Jhoomka gira re (Mera Saaya, 1966) I in my youthful exuberance scoured the market to buy a pair of silver jhoomka to impress a neighbourhood guy I had a crush on.

Asha-ji continued to enthrall with numbers like Raat akeli hai (Jewel Thief, 1967) - ah, Tanuja in that sexy number!  And those enticing numbers kajra mohabbatwala (Kismat 1968), parde me rehne do (Shikar, 1968).  In Hum Dono as she sang the duet with Mohammad Rafi Abhi na jao chhod ke with our hero of the time, Dev Anand, I wondered if there would appear someone like him to ask me to stay a little longer. Those days - sans mobiles, social media feeds, etc. beautiful compositions like these and romantic novels were the stuff to bring stars to our eyes.

Promoted to a married woman after college, the memory lingers about watching Yaadon ki Baaraat (1973) - in a hall, of course, and looking sideways at my brand-new husband to check if Chura liya hai tumne resonated with him too.

But even before that, there was Dum maro dum that broke grounds (Hare Rama Hare Krishna 1971) that made many women like us believe we could break out of the mould, as she did by daring to sing a song that a straight-jacketed society, read sarkari forum, banned to no effect.

Then there came Parveen Babi whistling her heart out to Sashi Kapoor, my teenage heartthrob in Namak Halal (1982) with Raat baki baat baki. What a sensuous rendition!

This was also the decade that gave the unforgettable Cheez kya hai  that made me feel as heartbroken as Umrao Jan losing the love of her love. Mera kuchh saamaan (Ijaazzat) too left a sense of loss.

Even at her ‘senior’ age of 64 she left her admirers pagal with Le gayi le gayi  (Dil  to pagal hai , 1997) with her lilting young voice.

It’s truly said that music has its own life. It doesn’t matter if a singer dies. As I listen to the inimitable Asha-didi with her I roam around the years I have left behind - with love and sometimes with sadness. It could be true of many among her myriad admirers.