The world lost something precious this month. Asha Bhosle (September 8, 1933 to April 12, 2026), the singer extraordinaire who left us with over 12,000 songs in 20 languages, defied labels.

Her voice had the voluptuousness of creme brulee, the agility of a swallow in flight and the versatility of a kaleidoscope. As an Indian woman born in the 1930s, she was remarkably brave in love and career.

One of her personal and professional triumphs is Piya bawari from the charming 1980 film Khubsoorat. Directed by Hrishikesh Mukherjee, the Rekha starrer’s music was composed by Asha’s musical partner, R.D. Burman — they married that year after a long courtship. It was a second marriage for both, although she was six years older than him and the mother of three kids from her first husband Ganpatrao Bhosle. Asha left the allegedly abusive marriage when she was pregnant with her third child. In a remarkable online tribute, Asha’s daughter Varsha Bhosle — she killed herself in 2012 — speaks with rare candour about her mother’s struggles.

Facing life as a single mother in her late 20s was hard, but it also helped Asha break new ground as a singer, away from older sister Lata Mangeshkar’s towering presence, in a way her other two talented sisters Meena and Usha couldn’t.

In Piya bawari, Asha’s voice is radiant. Inspired by Raga Bihag, the compact semi-classical song is a joyful awakening of first love cleverly enmeshed with the storyline of the “family film”.

Asha’s mastery of the sargam is on point. You marvel at how her voice negotiates the gentle meends, the airy murkis, and the graceful gamaks — all ornaments of Hindustani classical music. But never in excess, something many lesser singers unfortunately indulge in.

The way Asha intones “bawari” in every line is a masterclass in expression and breath control.

While Asha shoulders the bulk of this deceptively difficult composition, veteran actor Ashok Kumar, who plays the genial pater familias in the film, has a delightful cameo as a singer — he has a stanza of tabla bols that conjure up a vision of the playful Krishna, Radha and her sakhis. Kishore Kumar’s older brother, a singing star in the 1940s, proves that music runs in the family.

Gulzar, a long-time friend of RD, keeps his lyrics simple yet evocative. Piya bawari, piya bawari, pi kahan, pi kahan, piya piya bole re.... It’s all about the first stirrings of love when one is mad (bawari) about one’s beloved (piya).

RD layers the song with sitar and percussion, but suddenly chooses to detour from the raga base into a Western fusion with a violin obbligato in the third interlude. You don’t see it coming, but the ever-inventive Pancham surprises us, with full support from Asha’s vocals.

The Asha-RD partnership actually changed the sound of Bollywood. Their playlist is vast and varied. For every Piya tu ab toh aaja and Dum maaro dum, there’s Mera kuchh samaan and Phir se aaiyo badra bidesi. Amid these gems, Piya bawari sparkles for seamlessly blending diverse elements into one song. Perfection is real, after all.