I know I am late. Asha Bhonsle passed away, at the age of 92, on April 12. Within a couple of hours of the news of her death, there were tributes cropping up all across the net. Song lists, essays, memories, some misplaced attempts to jump on the bandwagon even if one wasn’t too sure what the fuss was about.

I am late, yes. I have to admit I was a little benumbed—Asha has always been one of my very favourite singers (dare I be an iconoclast and admit that I liked her more than Lata?). But more than that, she symbolized for me an older, sweeter time: an era of kinder films, gentler films, of sublime music and innocence. Asha was the last of the stalwarts, the last one standing of those who had created the magic of the 50s and 60s.

How do I pay tribute to this icon? I had already done, many years ago, a song list—Asha in Ten Moods. And that, rather than a ‘ten favourite songs’ because I freely admit that it would be impossible for me to list my ten favourite Asha songs. To choose ten favourite solos would be difficult, as difficult as selecting ten favourite duets. I had to find other criteria. And that is what I’ve done this time, too. Ten solos by Asha, by ten different composers. Ten songs that showcase the phenomenon that she was, the virtuoso with a voice of liquid gold. Scintillating, sexy, ethereal… Asha’s voice was all of these, and more.

As always, these songs are all (with one exception, on the cusp) from pre-1970s Hindi films that I’ve seen. These are in no particular order.

1. Aao huzoor tumko sitaaron mein le chaloon (Kismat, 1968): With OP Nayyar. The OP Nayyar-Asha collaboration was one of the greatest between a music director and a singer, a partnership that bridged the professional and the personal in a way that brought out the best in Asha’s voice. Nayyar gave her some of her very best songs: Aaiye meherbaan, Aankhon se jo utri hai dil mein, Jaaiye aap kahaan jaayenge, Yeh hai reshmi zulfon ka andhera… and this, one of the best daaru songs there is. Though I’ve never come across any drunk singing so perfectly in tune! There is, despite the occasional (literal) hiccup, a gay abandon to the song that I like very much.

2. Ab jo mile hain toh (Caravan, 1971): With RD Burman. A song from the cusp of the decades. While Caravan was released in 1971, it has a late 60s vibe that fits in my blog’s timeline.  

If OP Nayyar was synonymous with Asha through the late 1950s and into the mid-1960s, it was the RD Burman-Asha Bhonsle partnership that churned out one great hit after the other in the 70s and 80s. By the time they got married in 1980, Asha had already sung songs like Dum maaro dum, Yeh ladka hai Allah, Bechaara dil kya kare, and Do lafzon ki hai dil ki kahaani, for Pancham.

Caravan is probably best-remembered for the cabaret classic Piya tu ab toh aaja, but I prefer two of Asha’s other solos to this Helen number. One is the high-energy, madcap Daiyya yeh main kahaan aa phansi (which Asha said was the most difficult song she ever sang); the other is Ab jo mile hain, where she sings both for Aruna Irani as well as Asha Parekh. As Aruna Irani’s voice, Asha is sultry and sizzling; as Asha Parekh’s voice, she is sweeter, but still steely: both the ‘good girl’ and the banjara are women who know their minds, and are not afraid to speak them.

3. Tum jiyo hazaaron saal (Sujata, 1959): With SD Burman. Well before RD Burman began to compose music in his own right (and not just as assistant to his father), Asha had been singing for SD Burman. From the teasingly flirtatious Najar laagi raja tore bangle par to the (equally teasing) Dekhne mein bhola hai; from the powerful vocals of Raat akeli hai bujh gaye diye to the aching poignancy of O panchhi pyaare: Burman Da gave her a range of songs that showcased Asha’s ability to sing just about any emotion, not just the more peppy songs she came to be often associated with.

That said, this is a peppy song. Vibrant, infectiously upbeat, and absolutely the best birthday song there is. Interestingly enough, Tum jiyo hazaaron saal was recorded twice: by Geeta Dutt and by Asha, but it’s the Asha version that was retained in the film.

4. Tera dil kahaan hai (Chandni Chowk, 1954): With Roshan. This is a song, a tune, I’ve written about before. It stemmed from SD Burman’s Thandi hawaaein lehraake aayein, but Roshan took that base tune and turned it into something quite different—a song that he then went on to reuse with Lata’s voice, in Rahein na rahein hum. RD Burman was to use the tune in Humein raaston ki zaroorat nahin hai, as well as in Saagar kinaare dil yeh pukaare.

But the (most recognizable) precursor of these later songs was this gorgeous song, its music dominated by gentle strumming, Asha’s voice breathily gentle and seductive. The restraint and control that she exhibits here is a far cry from the full-throated, high-octane power of several of her other popular songs.

5. Shokh nazar ki bijliyaan (Woh Kaun Thi?, 1964): With Madan Mohan. Madan Mohan—Lata Mangeshkar’s ‘moonh-bola bhai’—famously created some of his best songs for Lata. But now and then, there was a Madan Mohan gem that Asha sang. Saba se yeh keh do; Thodi der ke liye mere ho jaao; Jhumka gira re… And, in Woh Kaun Thi?, which had some heavyweight Lata songs (including the iconic Lag jaa gale ke phir yeh), there was this song.

Picturized on Praveen Chaudhury, Shokh nazar ki bijliyaan is a come-hither song which eschews the seductiveness of (say) something like Raat akeli hai or Yeh hai reshmi zulfon ka andhera. This woman isn’t absolutely sure of the man she’s serenading; in fact, she pretty much knows that he still loves his now-dead wife. But she sings to him, anyway, a song of utter surrender.

6. Aa dil se dil mila le (Navrang, 1959): With C Ramachandra. Halfway through this song list, let me shake up things by posting a song that is relatively obscure (though Navrang itself had some other well-known songs, including the Asha-Mahendra Kapoor duet Aadha hai chandrama raat aadhi); and not just obscure, but also, according to several aficionados of old Hindi film songs, not a good showcase of Asha’s singing. But this is my blog and my list of my favourites, so I exercise the right to include it in this post.

C Ramachandra’s music is wonderful, and I personally think Asha’s navigation of those varying notes and varying tempos is very good. I agree that her voice sounds somewhat odd—not typical Asha, whose voice was never so nasally ‘thin’. On the other hand, I think this is where Aa dil se dil mila le scores: it is one of those rare examples of a song in which the singer modulates her voice to exactly mirror the speaking voice of the actor. Vandana Sawant, the actress who played the tawaif Manjari, has the same voice, the same somewhat affected way of speaking. This style of Asha’s is the most appropriate voice for this character.

7. Saaqiya aaj mujhe neend nahin aayegi (Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam, 1962): With Hemant. Asha had an unexpected connection to Hemant, a reflection of her esteem for him: she admired his voice so much, she named her son (aviation pilot-turned-composer Hemant Bhonsle) after him.

While Hemant’s most-preferred female voices tended to be Lata and Geeta Dutt, there were songs which he gave to Asha, and to which Asha did full justice. In Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam, while Geeta Dutt sang for Meena Kumari, it was Asha who was the voice of Waheeda Rehman in Bhanwra bada naadaan hai and Meri baat rahi mere mann mein—as also the singer of the mujra Saaqiya aaj mujhe neend nahin aayegi. Flirtatious, bold, uninhibited: she voices perfectly all that Minoo Mumtaz’s expressions and gestures convey.

8. Aage bhi jaane na tu (Waqt, 1965): With Ravi. I had been in two minds about including this song. I had, after all, included it in my other Asha Bhonsle post, and (especially when the same person is the focus of two posts), I try not to repeat songs. Also, it’s not as if Aage bhi jaane na tu is the only good song Ravi composed for Asha; she had other good Ravi songs to her name, including duets like Zindagi ittefaq hai, Yeh raatein yeh mausam nadi ka kinaara, and Hum jab simatke aapki baahon mein aa gaye.

In Waqt itself, Asha got other good solos, including Chehre pe khushi chha jaati hai and Kaun aaya ke nigaahon mein—but Aage bhi jaane na tu is in a class by itself. To me, this is one of the greatest songs in Hindi cinema. Everything from the picturization (it’s that rare song where a lot of action happens, with breaks for dialogue even, during the song) to music, arrangement, lyrics (Sahir, magical as ever)—is just right. And Asha is sublime, her voice soaring effortlessly across the octaves.

9. Thandi-thandi saawan ki phuhaar (Jaagte Raho, 1956): With Salil Chowdhury. Like Madan Mohan and C Ramachandra, Salil Chowdhury too was one of those music directors who had a soft spot for Lata’s voice: some of his best songs were composed for her, and she sang for him even in Bengali. But Asha too forged a Bengali connection (partly, of course, through RD Burman), and in the later part of her career came to sing a number of songs for poojo.

Salil composed several wonderful songs for Asha: Baagh mein kali khili, for instance; and this little-known but exquisite song, so very different from the vivacious, flirty, vibrant songs that comprise much of this list. This is the versatility of Asha: her ability to be the voice of the brash vamp as believably as that of the longsuffering, Sati Savitri wife. A sadly yearning, beautiful song, and sung with so much emotion.

10. Dukh aur sukh ke raaste (Hum Dono, 1961): With Jaidev. I am always a little baffled by how someone as talented as Jaidev ended up composing for largely B-grade, obscure films. One would have thought that someone who had composed the scores of films like Hum Dono and Mujhe Jeene Do—both chockfull of songs that were not just good, but popular (not always the same thing), might have had more producers lining up at his doorstep than he’d have been able to handle.

Anyhow. From Hum Dono, a film that had one of the loveliest Asha-Rafi duets, Abhi na jaao chhodkar, is this solo version of that duet. Where Abhi na jaao chhodkar is a romantic and light-hearted love song, Dukh aur sukh ke raaste is a song of comfort. It uses the same tune but is slower, gentler, kinder. Jaidev reduces the musical instrumentation to the bare minimum, allowing Asha’s voice to shine.

Goodbye, Asha. You may have gone, but your voice will never leave us.