Arijit Singh: How a Murshidabad boy became India’s emotional default until he needed room to breathe
The Statesman | 28 January 2026
bad day. A good day that suddenly turns quiet. A breakup you pretend you’re over. A late-night drive where your phone connects to the car Bluetooth before your brain catches up. And then without effort, without asking, an Arijit Singh song starts playing.
That’s when you realise something unsettling and comforting at the same time: this man’s voice has been following you for years.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just… there.
For over a decade, Arijit Singh has been India’s emotional background score. He has sung love, but more importantly, he has sung longing. He has sung happiness, but mostly the kind that trembles. Then he has sung heartbreak, not like a hero, but like someone who didn’t quite survive it.
Also Read: ‘I’m calling it off’: Singer Arijit Singh announces retirement from playback singing
Which is why any news around him; his silence, his absence, his slowing down, his choices hits differently. It doesn’t feel like celebrity news. It feels like someone is rearranging the furniture in your emotional house.
So let’s talk about Arijit Singh properly the way people actually talk about him with affection, exhaustion, gossip, criticism, nostalgia, and a strange sense of personal ownership.
Before he was everywhere, he was just another guy trying
Arijit Singh did not come to Mumbai with swagger. He did not arrive announcing destiny. He came quietly, from Jiaganj, a small town in West Bengal where life is slower and ambition is often practical.
Music was not a shortcut to fame in his house. It was discipline. Training. Routine. His mother sang. His family respected classical music. There were no fantasies of stardom, just a belief that if you practice enough, you get better.
When Arijit appeared on Fame Gurukul in 2005, he was young, talented, and forgettable to the masses. He didn’t win. He didn’t become famous. The thing is that he didn’t get film offers.
And that failure changed everything.
Instead of chasing the spotlight again, Arijit chose the long route. The boring route. He worked as a music programmer. He assisted composers. Also, he learned how songs are constructed, broken, rebuilt. He learned what silence does between notes. He learned why some songs feel empty even when sung well.
This behind-the-scenes phase is why Arijit never sounded like a desperate singer. He sounded like someone who understood music.
The day “Tum Hi Ho” hijacked a nation
When Aashiqui 2 released in 2013, nobody expected “Tum Hi Ho” to do what it did.
It didn’t arrive with fireworks. It arrived like a whisper.
And that whisper spread.
The song wasn’t technically flashy. The magic was emotional. Arijit’s voice didn’t sound confident. It sounded unsure. It sounded like someone on the edge of losing everything.
India recognised that feeling instantly.
Suddenly, Arijit Singh wasn’t just popular. He was necessary. Music directors wanted him. Producers depended on him. Romantic films leaned on him like a crutch.
But here’s the thing: he didn’t milk the moment. He didn’t overperform. He didn’t reinvent himself overnight. Well, he just… kept singing.
And the songs kept landing.
Why Arijit Singh feels like he’s singing just for you
There’s a reason people say, “Arijit songs hit differently.”
It’s because his voice doesn’t sound like it’s performing for an audience. It sounds like it’s confessing into a microphone that accidentally picked it up.
He doesn’t chase perfection. He doesn’t overpower melodies. And, he lets his voice crack when it needs to.
In a music industry obsessed with sounding flawless, Arijit allowed himself to sound human. And humans trusted him for that.
But this emotional intimacy came with a cost.
People didn’t just like his songs. They attached themselves to them. Arijit stopped being a singer and became an emotional translator. Every heartbreak needed his voice. Every romantic memory carried his sound.
That’s a heavy role for one human being.
Stardom without the star behaviour
As Arijit Singh became unavoidable, he did something unusual. He refused to play the celebrity game.
No endless interviews. No dramatic outfits. And, no award-show speeches full of gratitude and tears.
He showed up in hoodies and slippers. He skipped red carpets. Also avoided small talk with fame.
In an industry built on visibility, Arijit chose privacy. This annoyed people.
Some called him arrogant. Some said he was ungrateful. And, some felt he was wasting stardom others would kill for.
But the truth seemed simpler: he didn’t enjoy being watched.
He enjoyed singing. That was it.
When being loved too much starts to feel like pressure
At his peak, Arijit Singh was everywhere. And then he was too everywhere.
Every big film. Every emotional montage. And, every romantic confession.
And slowly, the mood shifted.
Audiences started complaining that all songs sounded the same. Critics blamed him for Bollywood’s lack of musical variety. Social media grew tired.
Here’s the irony: the same people who demanded Arijit Singh also demanded something new.
But the industry didn’t want to take risks. Music labels played safe. Directors didn’t experiment. Instead of building new voices, they leaned harder on one.
Arijit became the face of that exhaustion. Unfairly.
Singing sadness is not as romantic as it sounds
People romanticise sad songs. But imagine singing heartbreak professionally, year after year.
Imagine stepping into loss, longing, regret, and pain again and again not for therapy, but for deadlines.
Artists don’t leave emotions at the studio door. They carry them home.
Arijit has hinted more than once that fame exhausted him. That expectations drained joy. That music sometimes stopped feeling like freedom.
When a singer becomes known mainly for sadness, escaping that sadness becomes difficult.
Arijit Singh and the controversies he never wanted
Arijit Singh has never thrived on drama, but drama found him anyway.
A public apology at an award show once became national news. A fallout with powerful names like Salman Khan briefly affected his career. Whispers of bans and silent negotiations followed.
What did Arijit do? Nothing. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t clarify. And, he didn’t cry on camera.
He stayed silent.
In a culture that rewards outrage, silence confused people. Some admired it. Others thought it made him look weak.
But Arijit seemed uninterested in winning narratives. He waited for time to do the explaining.
The fear around him slowing down
Whenever Arijit Singh talks about doing less, the reaction is panic. “What will Bollywood do without him?”, “Music will die.”, “This is the end.”
But maybe the fear says more about us than about him.
We are uncomfortable imagining a world without a familiar emotional crutch. But artists are not obligated to exhaust themselves for our comfort.
If Arijit sings less, chooses selectively, protects his peace, that doesn’t reduce his importance. It deepens it.
Criticism that matters, and criticism that misses the point
Some criticism of Arijit is fair. People wanted experimentation. They wanted evolution. They wanted variety.
But blaming him alone ignores how Bollywood works.
Singers don’t choose scripts. They don’t control marketing. They don’t decide trends.
Arijit delivered what was asked of him. Consistently and sincerely.
The sameness wasn’t his creation. It was the system’s comfort zone.
What his legacy really is
Arijit Singh’s legacy isn’t awards, numbers, or records. It lives in moments people don’t post about. Crying quietly with earphones on. Long drives after bad news. Weddings where his song plays softly in the background. Goodbyes that needed music more than words.
He changed how men sound in Bollywood music. He made vulnerability respectable. And, he proved softness wasn’t weakness.
After Arijit Singh, there will be music but it will sound different
New voices will come. Music will evolve. Technology will reshape everything.
But Arijit Singh will remain a benchmark.
Every emotional song will be compared. Every romantic voice will be measured. And, every sad melody will face his shadow.
That’s not pressure. That’s influence. He never tried to become a symbol. He became one by accident.
And maybe that’s why people trust him.
Arijit Singh didn’t just sing songs. He held emotions for people when they didn’t know how to hold them themselves.
Long after trends fade and headlines move on, his voice will still live quietly in playlists, memories, and moments people don’t talk about.
And that’s why, no matter what he chooses next, Arijit Singh is already permanent.