At 27, Arijit Singh is already considered the voice of his generation. But despite his ability to reach the loftiest of notes, the singer-music programmer has his feet planted firmly, shyly, on the ground
Arijit singh detests media interviews. He really does. Our calls and messages to his phone went unanswered for days. His publicist couldn’t confirm an appointment for the longest time. When she finally scheduled a meeting, it came with a rider. “Please be patient. He’s one of the most media-shy persons I have seen,” she said of the 27-year-old singer, whose ‘Tum Hi Ho’ (Aashiqui 2) transformed him into an overnight sensation. That is why, when we meet Singh (about an hour before midnight at a decrepit recording studio in suburban Mumbai), we ask: Why hide?
“I hate being a celebrity,” says Singh, running his fingers through a tousled mop of curly hair. “I came into music because I loved it, not because I wanted to be famous. My singing career happened by fluke.” Singh wasn’t even aware when ‘Phir Mohabbat’ (Murder 2), his first Bollywood song, got released in 2011. “I’d sung it in 2009 and had forgotten about it. It was only when a friend of mine told me that I knew it had released. Even after it became a hit, my desire for playback didn’t grow, I was too busy programming music,” he says.
In fact, when, as an 18-year-old, Singh lined up for the auditions of Fame Gurukul (a music reality show) in 2005, it was not because he wanted to be a part of the Bollywood music industry. “It was to check where I stood. Unless you compete, you won’t know,” he says. Having grown up in West Bengal’s Murshidabad, he trained in classical music under Rajendra Prasad Hazari. And it was his guru who insisted that he audition for the show because “classical music was a dying tradition”.
At the time, music reality shows were a dime a dozen: Almost every television channel had one. That Fame Gurukul had singer-composer Shankar Mahadevan in the jury helped Singh make up his mind. “He was the only reason why I joined that show. He has a classical background and astounding versatility,” says Singh. “Shankarji and I have shared a unique relationship. He has helped me in the years after Fame Gurukul and continues to guide me even now. I have turned to him whenever I have been in financial trouble and he has given me work.”
In his role as a judge of the show, Mahadevan handled many a young talent. Some winners, too. But he’s reserved the fondest words for a lad who couldn’t even finish in the top 5 (Singh was placed No 6 in the show). “There are certain people whom you meet and they stay in your mind forever. You know that person has genuine talent and has to come up in life some time or the other. Arijit is that kind of a person,” says Mahadevan.
Though Singh couldn’t win Fame Gurukul, it gave him an excuse to stay back in Mumbai. He then entered another reality show, 10 Ke 10 Le Gaye Dil, a musical face-off between the winners of Fame Gurukul and Indian Idol. Singh not only won the battle of the titans, but also pocketed the prize money of Rs 10 lakh. Some friends wanted him to buy a Mercedes, some others asked him to invest his earnings, but he went along with the advice of a recordist from the show and built a recording setup of his own. That is where his journey with music programming began. The self-taught programmer freelanced with industry heavyweights, including Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy, Vishal-Shekhar and Mithoon Sharma.
Those were the days when Bollywood playback was dominated by conventional voices—ones that could fit any leading man—and opportunities for a character voice, as Singh regarded himself, were bleak. Mahadevan recounts his frustration when he once tried to convince a producer to retain Singh’s version of a certain song. “I told him Arijit was the voice of the future, but he insisted that he wanted a ‘popular’ voice,” he says. Mahadevan had to eventually get the song dubbed by another singer.
(This story appears in the 26 December, 2014 issue of Forbes India. To visit our Archives, click here.)