Beedi, Sheila, Thumka, Back-flip: Sunidhi Chauhan Is Still Raring To Go

Depending on how old you are, you’ll have a different Sunidhi Chauhan song as your musical pick-me-up. Her most recent outings include “Saami” from Pushpa: The Rise (2021), “The Thumka” from Tu Jhoothi Main Makkaar (2023) and songs in Prime Video’s web series, Jubilee. The Jubilee soundtrack, with songs composed by Amit Trivedi, showcase Chauhan’s brilliant range: Ghazal, a Raj Kapoor-esque ballad, a foot-tapping cabaret number, duets, solos, Chauhan can do it all. The personality that Chauhan’s voice radiates adds a sheen to the personality of a character like Niloufer (played by Wamiqa Gabbi), a courtesan turned actor who is determined to not just survive the turbulent, changing times, but thrive in them. Just listen to how Chauhan plays on the word “shayrana” in “Voh Tere Mere Ishq Ka” (picturised on Niloufer performing a mujra).

A long time ago in (what feels like a) galaxy far away, I didn’t respect Sunidhi Chauhan enough. In my defence, I was barely an adolescent, and I was fiercely holding onto the binary notion that if one is a card-holding member of “Team Shreya Ghoshal”, it automatically makes them a “Sunidhi Chauhan hater”. This was the early 2000s and Chauhan was the chosen one for peppy dance numbers with Western pop inflexions and Hinglish phrases like “Mindblowing Mahiya” or “Dil Ding Dong Ding”. Sure, there were outliers, but while her contemporary Shreya Ghoshal had become the sweet voice of naive, virginal heroine, Chauhan was usually summoned to be the voice of edgy, sex-positive leading ladies. That was the picture I had in my head and society taught me one was better than the other. However, all that would change. 

Appearing on a reality show called Voice of India, Chauhan sang “Ae Mere Pyaare Watan” with no accompanying musicians. A keyboard followed her gently with chords and Chauhan’s voice boomed, filling the arena, hitting each and every note of the song originally sung by Manna Dey. Despite the disciplined accuracy of Chauhan’s singing, it didn’t lack in feeling. This was a rare performance in which the singer commandeered the silences between the lines. Great singers can change the mood — even of a glitzy reality TV show — into something sombre and introspective. Chauhan is one of those artists and thanks to Voice of India, we had a once-in-a-lifetime artist in her element.

Sunidhi Chauhan, born Nidhi, lived near Azad Market in Central Delhi for the first eight years of her life. Her first claim to fame was that she memorised Pankaj Udhas’s “Chitthi Aayi Hai”. “I was around four, and it was a long song (around seven mins),” Chauhan told Film Companion. “Soon enough, word spread that ‘Dushyant ki beti ko pura gaana aata hai (Dushyant’s daughter knows the whole song)!” Even though singing came naturally to both her and her younger sister Suneha, Chauhan’s first love was dance. One of her earliest memories of music is singing for her sister, so Suneha had a track to which she would dance. “I used to crib because even I wanted to dance and I wanted her (Suneha) to sing for me,” recalled Chauhan. 

A self-taught prodigy, Chauhan got her golden ticket to Bombay — this is before the city was rechristened in 1995 — when she met actor Tabassum at a megastar night in Delhi. Bumping into her backstage, a nine-year-old Chauhan insisted that the actor listen to her song. So impressed was Tabassum by the young singer that she immediately told Chauhan’s father to meet her whenever they come to Bombay. A few months pass, and it’s time for summer vacation. Chauhan Sr. asks his two daughters where they would like to go. Both girls vote for Bombay. “There used to be this TV programme called Hello Bombay on Doordarshan which we loved, and we’d never seen a beach,” said Chauhan.

After finishing their sightseeing, the family met Tabassum, who hosted them graciously and didn’t waste any time in introducing Chauhan to the legendary music director Naushad. “He liked my voice and gave me lots of blessings,” remembered Chauhan. Tabassum then reached out to another Bollywood musical legend, Kalyanji. Despite his busy schedule, Kalyanji said he could spare 10 minutes so both Tabassum and Chauhan landed up at his studio. He was so impressed by the young Chauhan that he cancelled his next meeting and continued making song requests. Kalyanji  asked Chauhan’s father to consider staying in Bombay so that he could teach Sunidhi himself. “He (Kalyanji) arranged for us to stay in the Swami Narayan Mandir guest house, which was close to his residence. A few days later he came up with Little Wonders, a show comprising talented kids,” said Chauhan. She recalls singing nearly 35 songs on each of those shows and the young singers would perform at events that included Hindi film award functions. 

It was at a Little Wonders performance for Filmfare, the awards instituted by the magazine, that Chauhan was spotted by Aadesh Srivastava. He made the first offer of Chauhan’s storied playback career in a Suniel Shetty movie titled Shastra (1996). “I couldn’t hit one of the high notes in the song, so Aadeshji told everyone to take a break. He was really nice, and he asked ‘Kuch khaayegi (Want to eat something)?’ I said no. Then he asked, ‘Chai peeyegi (Want some tea)?’ I nodded. Since then it’s been a ritual for me to order a recording studio chai as soon as I step in.” Near the end of the recording session, Srivastava told the 11-year-old Chauhan that she was singing for the heroine of the film, Anjali Jathar. Chauhan was so excited that she actually came down with a slight fever because of this.

Between 1996 and 1999, all four members of the Chauhan family moved to Mumbai, to make their home in a one room-kitchen in Oshiwara. “I’ve always lived here, I think you can call me the Queen of Oshiwara,” said Chauhan in jest. Her big break came in 1999 when Chauhan sang for Urmila Matondkar in Ram Gopal Varma’s Mast (1999). The opportunity to work on Mast came Chauhan’s way because of a chance meeting with singer Sonu Nigam. One day, Chauhan and her father were leaving the recording of an Oriya song when they bumped into Nigam. “Sonuji gave the contact of Sandeep Chowta at Galactica studios to my father and told him that they were looking for a ‘new voice’,” Chauhan recalled. The father-daughter duo showed up at Chowta’s studio and Chowta asked Chauhan to  belt out a Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan song as a part of the audition. 

Weeks later, Chowta’s team called and said that they would like to record a song with Chauhan in two days. There was only one problem: Chauhan had lost her voice. A throat specialist advised her to not say a single word over the next two days, and sing directly into the mic. Chauhan was aghast. “I have to do my warm-ups before I start singing!” she told the doctor, who shot back with a strict refusal. If she wanted to sing, she needed to preserve her voice until the moment she was standing in front of the microphone. Begrudgingly, Chauhan took the advice and recorded the song “Ruki Ruki” from Mast in just two takes. Varma shot the song and felt Chauhan’s voice matched Matondkar’s face. The filmmaker and Chowta decided to do a female version of the title track as well as record a song titled “Suna Tha”. Chowta’s rendition of the title track was raw and novel, but Chauhan’s version went on to become more successful. “I knew I had to match the energy (of the original), but you can’t force it. It has to come from within. So, I went for it,” says Chauhan, “and I think it came out well.” It would not be outrageous to say some of Chauhan’s improvisations ushered in a new era of playback singing in Bollywood. 

People often forget how young Sunidhi Chauhan was when she burst onto the scene. She was only 16 when she sang for Sushmita Sen in “Mehboob Mere” in Fiza (2000). The song was for an ‘item number’, as glamorous (and often titillating) cameos were known, and suddenly Chauhan was the go-to girl for such songs – not that the singer was complaining. As much as Chauhan’s voice has held her in good stead for a career of nearly 25 years, her success also has to do with Chauhan’s instinctive ability to gauge the mood of a song. Recalling “Mehboob Mere”, she said, “While it was groovy, I could also sense this Sufi turmoil in the song.” It’s this alertness to nuance that makes Chauhan such a rare talent among playback singers. 

Chauhan’s success also lay in the way she was a complete pop star package – comfortable in front of the camera, unafraid to experiment with her looks/hair, always looking to push the boundaries of her singing ability. Unfortunately, her independent career didn’t pan out, largely because it coincided with the collapse of the Indian indie-pop business. However, the sheer amount of work Chauhan ended up doing during the 2000s – she sang about 50-60 songs every year – also meant that she had little time to think about an alternative career beyond playback singing for films. Male contemporaries like Nigam, Shaan and KK all tried their hand at albums, most of which got a muted response. Chauhan, like Ghoshal, collaborated on albums like with Sultan Khan in Ustad & The Divas, and Raghav Sachar’s Dil Hai Yeh Dil among others.

Entrusted with some of the cheesiest Hinglish lyrics (sample: “Shake it saiyyan”) of the 2000s, Chauhan also showcased her versatility with ballads like “Bhaage Re Mann Chali” (from Chameli, 2003), “Ajnabee Ka Intezaar Hai” (from Ajnabee, 2001) and “Meri Zindagi Mein Aaye” (from Armaan, 2003). She also brought an unexpected dash of elegance and class to songs like “Deedar De” (from Dus, 2005), “Beedi” (from Omkara, 2006) and “Sheila Ki Jawaani” (from Tees Maar Khan, 2010). "Sheila" stands out in Chauhan's memory as a song whose inherent cheesiness she was tickled about. Even composers Vishal-Shekhar agreed, but they really made it work in favour of the song.

In the last decade or so, Chauhan has finally slowed down and has been doing relatively less work. Some of this has to do with a noticeable decline in the quality of compositions in general, but there’s also a whole new generation of singers who have grown up listening to Chauhan. All the way from Anushka Manchanda, Shalmali Kolghade, Neha Bhasin to Neeti Mohan, Chauhan’s influence can be felt far and wide. Even contemporary Shilpa Rao has said that Chauhan is among those who have helped redefine the conventions of a female playback singer.

Chauhan belongs to a great generation of modern playback singers, including Ghoshal, Nigam and KK. Most of Chauhan’s ‘item number’ songs are opposite KK or Sukhwinder Singh, both immensely powerful singers who matching Chauhan’s fire with their own fury. Chauhan said she felt most kinship with KK, who like her was  self-taught, instinctive and extremely perceptive. She was devastated by KK’s sudden passing last year. “I think KK was my soulmate in music,” Chauhan said. “I think he was a helpless singer — he could not sing except from the heart.” 

Chauhan seems to now have set her sights on raising the stakes of her live performances, which seem to be borrowing theatrics from American concert spectacles like the Super Bowl half-time show. Her list of resolutions include learning to rap and doing a back-flip during a live performance before she turns 40. That’s about four months away. Keep your ears perked and your eyes peeled.