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Recording booth reminiscences: No room for flawed notes 

Beleghata Metropolitan lane resident Kalyan Sen Barat recollects the discipline that set Asha Bhosle apart

Kalyan Sen Barat at the recording with Gulzaar and Asha Bhosle Stock Photographer

Sudeshna Banerjee
Published 17.04.26, 10:03 AM

It was Gulzar saab who had suggested my name — or so I was told when filmmaker Prakash Jha called me out of the blue sometime around 1993-94. He was then working on a film titled Didi, with Rajit Kapur, Deepti Naval and Shilpa Shirodkar, and wanted me to helm its music. The script was by Vijay
Tendulkar. I flew to Mumbai.

The story demanded a folk idiom, so I composed in that vein. There were five songs in all — four rhythmic, one free-flowing. A singer who has since made a name for herself was initially slated to record them. But when Gulzar saab heard the compositions, he said, almost offhand, “Yeh Asha Bhosle ko chahiye.” Prakash was delighted and asked him to speak to her.

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Ashaji wanted to hear the songs first. I was driven to her home by someone who is now a celebrated name himself — Vishal Bhardwaj. She liked what she heard but couldn’t make it to the studio on the first day because she was unwell. We had already paid for the session, and the studio was block-booked for the following days. I couldn’t afford to wait — my choir was expecting me back in Calcutta. On someone’s advice, I approached composer duo Dilip Sen and Sameer Sen, who had made the bookings. They graciously released a day for us.

When Ashaji finally arrived, she listened to the track and asked, “Song violin kahan hai?” It wasn’t a practice I followed — having the entire songline played out on a violin for the singer. But, as I learnt, both she and Lata Mangeshkar adhered to it strictly. When I admitted, rather sheepishly, that I hadn’t arranged one, she fell silent before saying, “Mujhe aaj chhod dijiye.” The ground seemed to slip from under my feet.

I requested five minutes. While they stepped out for coffee, I took out the small synthesiser I always carry, set it to a violin tone, and quickly recorded the melody line. When I played it back for her, she relented. “Par Didi hoti toh nahin gaati,” she said, referring to Lataji. It was a reprieve — and she went on to record all five songs.

Soon after, I was involved in a Calcutta project titled Panchami Surey, where Pan Music was re-recording some of R.D. Burman’s Hindi hits with Bengali lyrics. It was Ashaji who recommended me as the arranger. This time, I was prepared — with the “song violin” in place. Sameer Sen, a fine violinist, wrote out the notations and recorded the violin track. I wasn’t taking any chances.

She checked into The Park, and the recordings were held at JMD Sounds nearby.

On the final day, with one song still pending, Ashaji developed a fever. We watched helplessly as she paced the recording booth like a caged tigress, attempting vocal exercises, failing, and even berating herself — all of it audible through the microphone.

Finally, she stopped and asked the recordist to erase every take she had attempted that day. “Nahin toh companywale yehi nikal dega,” she said firmly. That was her professionalism — leaving nothing to chance. There is a reason she has endured for so long.

She even left us a sample of her recorded voice, specifying the tonal quality she wanted. Sameer and I kept referring to it while equalising the tracks.

On that Calcutta trip, she had bought nearly 17–18 bhori of gold jewellery. One day, before a session, she sat down on the carpeted wooden floor with a vanity bag and gestured for me to join her. I was taken aback — and deeply anxious about the safety of all that gold. The studio owner was summoned and tasked to keep it in a locker for the next few days.

Though she was older than my mother, she would address me as “Dada”. “Dada, aapko ek din Mumbai aana padega. Main aur nahin aa paungi,” she told me. So I went and completed the album there. It turned out to be a runaway success, selling thousands of cassettes.

Our next collaboration was an ensemble project featuring Pandit
Jasraj, M. Balamuralikrishna, Parveen Sultana and Ashaji. I was the composer.

I have also had the privilege of relishing a hilsa dish she cooked herself at her home. I often say Gulzar saab was my godfather in Bombay. Between him and my own good fortune, I received far more than I could ever have asked for.

Asha Bhosle Music Legends
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