An Ode To Monsoon, 'Ab Ke Saawan Aise Barse' Singer Shubha Mudgal On Her Passion For The Rain

In Indian music, the rains do not merely arrive with thunder and retreat with the sun. They bring a lexicon of feeling: the ache of separation, the thrill of longing, the joy of return, and the sudden laughter of a swing creaking under a mango tree. These shades are gathered not just in the Malhar ragas, which invoke showers but in the seasonal folk-rooted forms (kajri, dadra, thumri, jhoola) where lived experience becomes song.

Monsoon Concert

This season, vocalist and composer Shubha Mudgal is curating and staging a monsoon concert 'Paavas Prasang' on Friday, September 12 at the Royal Opera House, Mumbai, in collaboration with Avid Learning. Accompanied by Aneesh Pradhan on tabla, Sudhir Nayak on harmonium, and Siddharth Padiyar on dholak, Mudgal brings forth a repertoire where each note is rain-burnished. You probably know her from her thunderous rain song Ab Ke Saawan Aise Barse that stormed through the late 90s.

Her voice has long carried both the dignity of tradition and the spark of reinvention. When we spoke with her about the monsoon, she began not with melody but with nature itself.

“The seemingly inexhaustible treasure of poetry and music related to the monsoon first points to a close and creative association with Nature,” she said, “One that we perhaps are neglecting or forgetting as we mindlessly destroy our environment either actively, or tacitly by remaining passive observers.” In her words, the rain is not just a musical season but an ethical reminder.

A disciple of legendary maestros including Pandit Ramashreya Jha “Ramrang,” Pandit Jitendra Abhisheki, Pandit Kumar Gandharva, and Smt. Naina Devi, Mudgal has inherited a lineage of immense richness while shaping it into something of her own. A Padma Shri awardee, the seasoned Hindustani classical and popular music artiste has performed on prestigious stages around the world.

Beyond performance, she is also a composer, teacher, and writer, known for her thoughtful reflections on the place of music in contemporary India. What makes her artistry remarkable is not just her command over the grammar of raga and rasa, but her ability to infuse each performance with sincerity, emotion, and abiding respect for the music itself.

The Gathering Of Songs

Mudgal is not one for hurried curations. The repertoire of Paavas Prasang has been distilled over decades, drawn from teachers, peers, friends, and her own pen. “Over several decades I have collected compositions as do most other students of music, from a variety of sources,” said the artiste. She remembers, for instance, learning a wedding song in Uttar Pradesh from a friend: Ghumadat aave suhaag more angane, garajat aave suhaag more angane. The word suhaag (marital bliss) arrives like thunder, linking auspiciousness to monsoon abundance.

Her own compositions, too, have entered this pool, forming a repertoire large enough that Paavas Prasang is never the same twice. “No two performances are identical although there may be some common threads,” she noted. The unpredictability of rain is echoed in the unpredictability of performance: always familiar, never quite the same.

Companions In Sound

Tabla exponent Aneesh Pradhan (Image courtesy Raghav Pasricha)

No artist performs in solitude. For Paavas Prasang, Mudgal’s companions are not mere accompanists but fellow travellers. “With Aneesh and Sudhir, I have the tabla and harmonium singing with me, not just playing,” she said with warmth. Aneesh Pradhan, her partner in life and music, brings not only his mastery of rhythm but also his insights as a composer. “From Aneesh… I get compositions that I present in concerts like Paavas Prasang.”

Sudhir Nayak, her gurubhai, studied alongside her with Pt. Jitendra Abhisheki. His harmonium, she said, offers “sensitive and very skilled accompaniment” that is “a major attraction in any performance.” The youngest of the ensemble, Siddharth Padiyar, brings curiosity and versatility. Though a tabla player, he joins here with the dholak. “He will accompany me displaying a keen ability to adapt,” Mudgal said, pleased with his enthusiasm. Together, the ensemble becomes not merely a backdrop but a layered texture of voices contributing to the soundscape of rain.

Sudhir Nayak, harmonium player and composer (Image courtesy Avid Learning)

Theme concerts are not new to Indian classical music, but for Mudgal, their purpose is not recruitment but fulfillment. “It is difficult for me to claim that theme concerts bring in new listeners because I do not really have data to prove that,” she admitted with candour. “What I do know is that it gives me immense satisfaction to present a concert on a particular theme.” Her satisfaction lies in exploring the multiplicity of moods within a single season: the joyous swing songs of teej, the aching viraha of lovers parted, the celebratory pulse of wedding songs, the devotional offerings to the dark monsoon sky.

Siddharth Padiyar, Hindustani instrumentalist (Image courtesy Avid Learning)

Memories Of Rain

Her memories of the rains are steeped in childhood. Growing up in Allahabad (now Prayagraj), she recalls rope swings during teej, bangle sellers with baskets of coloured glass, the delight of running out into the rain. “All these experiences colour my presentation of monsoon related bandishes, kajri and jhoola compositions,” she said. These are not abstract renderings, but lived recollections.

We asked her about singing Malhar, that great rain-bringer of ragas. Her answer was a parable in miniature: “Each time I sing a Malhar, it is like opening the door for an old friend. Sometimes, the friend envelops you immediately in a warm embrace… At other times, the friend is a little aloof… And sometimes, the friend even reminds you of the times when you sat before your great gurus and got ticked off royally for making mistakes.”

Here is the humility of a great artist: the recognition that music is not conquered but conversed with, that even old friends can surprise, elude, or reprimand. When asked what Indian music would lose if the monsoon itself were to disappear, she answered with gravity: “Oh no! That truly is a grim thought. It would be a drought-like situation on the ground, and for the artiste too perhaps.”

Surrender To The Music

After decades of performance, of acclaim, of awards, Mudgal’s philosophy has distilled into one of surrender. “It is ultimately the music that is most important and not the person making it,” she reflected. “That is why I do my best to surrender to the music, and hope that the baggage of ego and even pride does not come in its way.”

It is rare these days to place oneself second, and the art first. But perhaps that is why, when Shubha Mudgal sings the rains, we hear not only her voice, but the rush of rivers, the laughter of swings, and the hush of soil drinking its fill. Paavas Prasang will be held on Friday, September 12, 2025 at Royal Opera House, Mumbai. Tickets are available on Bookmyshow.

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