As Arijit Singh, one of Hindi cinema’s most successful playback singers, calls it quits, here’s a look at the conspiracy theories doing the rounds, and what the National Award-winning singer would do next
For over 15 years, Arijit Singh’s voice has been among the most ubiquitous and recognisable in Hindi cinema, capable of turning even an ordinary romantic montage into something intimate and aching. Which is precisely why his recent decision to step away from playback singing has triggered a collective sense of loss. Fans speak of both sadness and shock as though something deeply personal has been taken away: an old companion suddenly choosing to wander off in another direction.
In his note on social media, Arijit has attributed the reason behind his decision, announced on January 27, to be his boredom with singing the same kind of songs: “One of the reasons is simple, I get bored pretty quick, that’s why I keep changing arrangements of the same songs and perform them on stage. So here is the thing, I got bored. I need to do some other music to live,” he wrote. But it has not stopped speculation around it. One of the theories doing the rounds is that the 38-year-old singer is reportedly preparing to make his debut as a filmmaker. While not much is known about the film, industry grapevine has it that the film will introduce Shora Siddiqui, actor Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s daughter, as its leading face. Nawazuddin and Pankaj Tripathi will also star in the film.
Shora, 15, is currently studying acting in London. Sources familiar with the project describe it as a “pan-India jungle film,” co-written by Arijit Singh and his wife, Koyel. The film, insiders say, has been in development for years, nurtured alongside his singing career. “The decision to step away from playback singing largely comes from his need to focus entirely on the screenplay right now. He’s been deeply passionate about this for a long time,” notes senior film journalist and filmmaker Ram Kamal Mukherjee, in an interview to The Federal.
‘A higher calling’
Mukherjee adds that the sheer volume of playback offers made it impossible to give the project the focus it demanded. Stepping back from singing, then, was the only way out: “Once Arijit commits to a project, he becomes extremely finicky and deeply involved. That level of focus isn’t possible if he’s constantly pulled in different directions. That’s really why he’s stepping away — for now — to give the screen work the attention it demands.”
According to another theory, Murshidabad-based Arijit, who is one of the singers of Border 2’s patriotic track, Ghar Kab Aaoge, a remake of the iconic Sandese Aate Hain, was ‘forced’ into singing the song despite his creative disagreements with the project, which might have triggered the breaking point in his relationship with playback singing. This version gained substantial traction among fans. Producers, however, pushed back on this narrative. Bhushan Kumar, one of Border 2’s makers, dismissed the claims, arguing that he participated willingly.
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Among the more measured, well-put and fascinating reactions has been from singer Chinmayi Sripada, who has collaborated on several soulful tracks with Singh, including Mast Magan from 2 States, Sooiyan (Guddu Rangeela), Piya Tu Piya (Dongri Ka Raja) and Shukra Tera (Samrat & Co.) She has described Arijit as a musician guided by “a higher calling”, someone whose next chapter, whatever it may be, would likely be “divine”. A similar reading emerged from my conversation with Mukherjee. Over the years, his interactions with Arijit have revealed a man who treats music not as capital but as worship. “He has never capitalised on music. He believes music is something sacred,” he says.
Put off by the system?
Mukherjee, former editor-in-chief of Stardust and biographer of Hema Malini, Mithun Chakraborty and Sanjay Dutt, has observed Hindi cinema from multiple vantage points. His assessment of Singh is pragmatic. “He is extremely moody,” Mukherjee says, using the word in its classical artistic sense. “At times he charges a very high fee, and at times he sings for free. That tells you everything about his mentality. He is not driven by film music,” he adds.
Indian film music, Mukherjee reminds us, has always made space — sometimes reluctantly —for difficult geniuses. Bade Ghulam Ali Khan. Kishore Kumar. Artists who were never ‘driven’ by film music in the industrial sense. Playback singing, contrary to popular belief, doesn’t always excite a singer or define their ambition. Often, it merely contains them.
Singh, he insists, doesn’t come from desperation or entitlement. He has already lived the hard climb: reality shows, rejections, and the bruising politics of being an outsider. He has seen songs dropped from film playlists at the last minute. He has been bullied, sidelined (after he infamously fell out with Salman Khan; they have patched up and Arijit’s latest is a song, Matrubhumi, in Battle of Galwan), used, and then celebrated. He has experienced, without naming names, the humiliations the industry normalises. “So he’s seen it all,” Mukherjee says. “And maybe he’s disgusted. Or put off by the system.”
The creative edge
This context matters because Arijit Singh is stepping away from a position of power. Mukherjee doesn’t blame him. “He’s so talented, and he has such a huge fan following. When someone like that says, ‘I won’t take up further playback assignments,’ it’s not arrogance, but clarity.” What makes the decision even more telling is that Arijit hasn’t walked away from music itself. “He’s saying he will give time to music,” Mukherjee emphasises. “That’s good news.”
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Arijit, Mukherjee notes, has spoken about wanting to open a gurukul, where he can impart a musical sensibility to the next generation because setting your ear to good music, he believes, is education in itself. Popularity, in Arijit’s worldview, is not proof of quality. A song may trend for many reasons — appeal among the youth, how it’s packaged, and how algorithmic pushes it — but that doesn’t make it lasting work. This belief increasingly puts him at odds with mainstream film music, which is now ruthlessly screenplay-driven.
“Music directors today have very specific requirements,” Mukherjee explains. “Everything is customised to the screenplay. You sing what the film needs.” There is little room left for vocal exploration, tonal risk, or experimentation. And Arijit, he suspects, has reached the point where obligation began to outweigh joy. “He was probably saying yes to many projects because he owed people: music directors, producers, actors. He couldn’t say no.” Until one day, every creative artist reaches the edge. “You have to stop. You have to say, ‘Now I focus on my own skill.’”
A gift from God
Mukherjee calls it a change of socket. Not unplugging, but rerouting energy. “From one socket to another. A better socket. A better output.” What emerges next, he suggests, may be an entirely new Arijit Singh, a 2.0 version of the singer. “We don’t know what to expect. We can say goodbye to one version, and welcome the next.”
There is also talk that Arijit might enter politics and start a political party. Mukherjee dismisses it outright. “He would never waste time on politics,” he says, deliberately using the phrase. Politics, he points out, is not a vanity project. It demands time. Examples abound — Kangana Ranaut, Hema Malini — artists who had to pause or end their primary careers to commit fully to public life. Arijit Singh, by contrast, is almost aggressively private. “He rides a scooty around his hometown,” Mukherjee says with a smile. “He doesn’t live in fanfare. He doesn’t project himself as a rock star.”
That restraint, Mukherjee believes, comes from Sufism. Arijit often describes his voice as a gift from God. Another angle worth considering is the creative trap of success. “The moment you become a Kishore Kumar kind of voice,” Mukherjee explains, “everyone wants exactly what they’ve already heard.” But perhaps Arijit wants to step outside his own genre and try something unfamiliar.
Arijit’s absence will be acutely felt. Mukherjee says it will create a ‘vacuum’ as there are few singers among the new generation to fill it. “When Ranbir Kapoor is on screen,” he says, “I will miss Arijit’s voice.” Viewed through the lens of those who have watched his career closely, Arijit’s withdrawal seems to be years in the making. Playback singing, for him, may have reached its limit. Music, clearly, has not. Music will continue to find him, but Hindi cinema will have to do without that familiar voice crooning songs of love, longing and heartbreak.
