Even after decades, Anu Malik’s compositions — from Yeh kaali kaali aankhen to Chura ke dil mera — remain evergreen. Despite seismic shifts in the musical landscape — from cassette players to the rise of social media and streaming platforms, AI-generated music and a flood of new genres — Malik remains grounded, curious, and quietly confident. “The only way to stay relevant,” he says, “is to keep creating — in step with the times.”
A day ahead of his recent concert at Dum Dum Utsab organised by Dum Dum Municipality, the composer sat down with t2 for a conversation.
Melody has always been central to your work. Do you feel today’s film music still values melody in the same way?
‘Value’ is a strong word. Over the years, the landscape has evolved, and so have listeners. The platforms have changed, the way people consume music has changed. Younger composers are doing outstanding work today; they are creating music that reflects their time. We were creating in a completely different era. Every generation responds to its own soundscape, and within that, there is good work happening across the board. No one is better than the other. What matters is honesty in creation, regardless of the time you belong to.
You entered the industry at a time when some of Hindi cinema’s greatest composers ruled the charts. How did those early years shape the sound you eventually came to call your own?
I came into the industry at a time when giants like Laxmikant-Pyarelal, R.D. Burman, and Kalyanji-Anandji were ruling.They were masters, and the work they were producing was extraordinary. Getting into the industry then was extremely difficult, precisely because the standard was so high.That environment taught me discipline and resilience. I learnt so much just by listening, observing and absorbing their music. My father, Sardar Malik, was himself a composer, and growing up in that environment made me realise that there was something within me that I needed to express.I knew I did not want to repeat what already existed. I wanted to think ahead. In the ’80s and ’90s, I consciously worked towards creating a different beat, a different sensibility— about rhythm, texture and melody that could stand apart. That instinct to create something distinctive is why I am still composing today. Precisely why songs like Yeh kaali kaali aankhen or Ek garam chai ki pyali still feel distinct.A listener should immediately recognise an Anu Malik song. As a composer, you must accept that listeners are intelligent and discerning. You cannot take them lightly. Many composers have told me that my tunes carry an identifiable stamp. Maintaining that identity while changing with time has been a tough but necessary journey.
Your music has shaped several decades of Hindi cinema. When you look back, which phase of your career feels the most defining to you, and why?
Every phase of my career has been a phase of hard work. Each one came with its own challenges and each has turned out to be equally defining because it has demanded reinvention. I arrived when stalwarts were at their p and composers. Pancham da was creating magic and Laxmikant–Pyarelal were at their peak. There was Bappi da and many other talented composers. At every stage, the question remained the same: How do you create something that makes people choose you? There is no room for complacency in this profession. The moment you believe you have arrived, the journey ends. If you stop rediscovering yourself, you stop growing. Hard work is the only constant. Continuous riyaaz, constant composition and the willingness to rediscover oneself are essential. I compose every single day. Even when I am sitting and talking, my mind is working on music. It is a continuous process. That discipline has sustained me, along with the blessings of Saraswati Ma. Without her grace, nothing is possible.
When audiences describe a film as ‘an Anu Malik musical’, what does that recognition mean to you today?
It is deeply satisfying. Take Tu meri poori kahani, released in 2025. It was a small film, with a new director and cast. I knew from the start that my music had to support the film completely. People told me they loved every song, and that was exactly what I had intended. I shared this with Mahesh Bhatt (he backed the project), who is not just my mentor but someone I deeply love. When music can uplift a film and help it reach audiences, especially when it is intimate and sincere in its storytelling, that is the most fulfilling feeling for a composer.
Romantic ballads, high-energy numbers, patriotic anthems — you’ve explored it all. In an age of AI-generated music, where do you see human creativity standing?
I enjoy what is happening today. People are talking about AI taking over music, but I feel AI cannot replace human creativity. AI works with existing data; it draws from what composers have already created, and rearranges it. Human creativity, however, comes from instinct, emotion and lived experience, which cannot be replaced. If you look at composers like R.D. Burman, he could give you Dum maro dum, O Haseena zulfonwali and also Ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga. That emotional and creative range comes from lived experience, not algorithms. Similarly, my own work spans genres and emotions — ranging from Main hoon na title track to Oonchi hai building, Sandese aate hain and Tumse milke dil ka jo haal. I believe in constant innovation. AI may assist or reinterpret, but it cannot originate feelings. That distinction will always define the composer’s role.
That iconic rap interlude in Yeh kaali kaali aankhen — was it something you consciously set out to do?
It was entirely spontaneous. There was no prior planning involved. The moment emerged organically during the making of the song, and everyone present on the sets — Shah Rukh Khan, Kajol, Abbas–Mustan, Ratan Jain — instantly connected with it. Such moments cannot be designed; they happen when music is allowed to breathe freely.
You’ve consistently adapted to changing musical tastes without losing your signature. How do you strike that balance?
I genuinely love change. I do not belong to the school of thought that says: “Our time was better.” That mindset does not help anyone. Change must be embraced, not resisted. Every generation brings its own perspective, and dismissing that is neither fair nor productive. Encouragement and openness are essential. When I entered the industry at 15, someone encouraged me — and that encouragement shaped my journey. Today, it is important to encourage younger composers. They are working extremely hard.
Technology continues to evolve, and it is important to learn and adapt. At the same time, staying rooted in one’s musical identity ensures authenticity. Staying open and curious is the only way to remain relevant.
You have collaborated with some of the biggest voices and filmmakers in the industry. Which collaborations pushed you creatively the most?
Every singer I have worked with has been exceptional. I cannot single out one name. I have worked with Mohammed Rafi saab, Asha ji, Lata ji and Kishore da. For me, Kishore da was like God. Each of them has offered invaluable learning. Their dedication, discipline and emotional depth shaped the way I approach composition. I have sat with them, learnt from them, eaten with them, and absorbed their approach to music. Lata ji was a goddess — her voice was beyond discussion. Rafi saab had unmatched range and discipline. Music is teamwork. Each artiste brings something essential to the final creation. The golden era thrived because everyone gave their heart to the music.
In an era dominated by digital platforms and short-form music, how do you view the future of film songs?
Songs do not disappear — only platforms evolve. The medium of consumption may change, but the love for melody remains constant. Indians love melody. Whether in Bengal, Maharashtra, Punjab, Tamil Nadu or the Northeast, people will always return to songs that touch their hearts. Great music will always find its listeners.
Is there a song from your repertoire that you feel didn’t receive its due at the time?
Roshni se and San sanana from Asoka did not receive the recognition they deserved initially. Sau dard and Ajnabi shehar from Jaan-E-Mann were also underrated when they were released. Today, people are rediscovering these songs. Recognition may be delayed, but sincere work eventually finds its place.
What does Calcutta mean to you?
Bengal is very special to me, both as a composer and as a human being. Before he became a composer, my father was a dancer. This connection comes directly from my father. He was a student of Uday Shankar ji, and through him, I grew up hearing about Uday Shankar and Ravi Shankar. He introduced me to the works of Rabindranath Tagore and Rabindrasangeet, which has an emotional depth that moves you every time you hear it. He also encouraged me to watch films like Pather Panchali and Do Bigha Zamin. These films shaped my understanding of storytelling, sensibility and realism. Bengal’s people, cinema, literature, food, music, emotional richness, and artistic heritage have always stayed close to my heart.
Picture: B Halder