Vishal Bhardwaj Reveals How Lata Mangeshkar Transformed ‘Paani Paani Re’ At IFFI 2025: 'She Changed Everything'

At the Annual Lata Mangeshkar Memorial Talk at IFFI, titled The Rhythms of India: From the Himalayas to the Deccan, the hall transformed into a space of memory, melody and the mystic inner world from which music is born. With composers Vishal Bhardwaj and B. Ajaneesh Loknath in conversation, and critic Sudhir Srinivas guiding the dialogue, the evening unfolded like a musical autobiography told through anecdotes, instinct, accidents and grace.

But the moment that silenced the auditorium was Vishal Bhardwaj revisiting the creation of one of his most haunting compositions, Paani Paani Re from Maachis. What followed was a rare glimpse into the private room where melodies come alive and where one extraordinary singer altered the destiny of a song.

The Birth of a Melody

When asked about the trance-like quality of Paani Paani Re, Vishal began with a memory that anchored the significance of the song in his life. He said, “Paani Paani Re is one of the most special songs of my life. I had done television before Maachis, but this was my true breakthrough. In fact, people often forget that my first popular song was Chaddi Bhenge Bhool Gila with Gulzar saab. But Paani Paani Re was my make-or-break moment.”

He described how composers often start with placeholder words, the syllables that come before the poetry. “When composers create tunes, we always begin with dummy words. The melody arrives from somewhere, truly like catching something out of thin air. When I compose, I shut my eyes and go into a kind of trance. The world disappears.”

Earlier in his career, he said he could not even tolerate another person in the room while composing. “I needed absolute solitude. That’s how I found the tune for this song.”

His original scratch line was simple, rhythmic, and almost naïve, “Rehna, rehna re, bheege rehna re.”

And then came Gulzar. “Gulzar saab, being Gulzar saab, transformed it into Paani paani re, khaare paani re. Only he could bring that poetry.”

It was the beginning of a composition that would soon transcend the limitations of words.

The Soundscape of Water

The hypnotic opening of Paani Paani Re—the liquid chimes, the echoes of flowing water—has become iconic. But Vishal revealed the unlikely source of that inspiration.

He recalled being haunted by an obscure cassette titled Five Fingers, recorded by foreign musicians at the Osho Commune in Pune. “They had used water chimes, stone chimes… sounds that felt divine. I used to be haunted by that album.”

So when Maachis presented a scene where characters sit by a riverbank at night, memories gnawing at them, he knew exactly what atmosphere he wanted. “I wanted the sound of water to prepare you emotionally even before the first note. That minimalistic approach was intentional.”

He explained that at the time Bollywood still operated within a philosophy of excess. “Those days, the more musicians you had, the bigger the composer you were supposed to be. But I didn’t want to fill every space. Sound is frequency. Too many frequencies clash and dull the emotion. I wanted clarity. I wanted feeling.”

The silence in the song mattered as much as the music.

Lata Mangeshkar’s Alchemy

And then came the moment every artist waits for—the meeting of instinct and mastery.

Vishal remembered the legendary singer with a mix of awe and deep affection. “Lata ji… I can talk endlessly about her.”

He recalled how singers back then rehearsed extensively. “They didn’t walk in, sing line by line, and leave. Lata ji would come prepared with the entire song memorised. She preferred singing the whole track in one take.”

During rehearsal, she listened to Vishal’s original straight-on-the-beat phrasing, “Rehna rehna re, bheege rehna re,” and gently suggested they bring a touch of gulai, a glide, into the words.

He asked her how she imagined it. She demonstrated by singing, “Paani paani re…”

That meend—soft, fluid, aching—changed everything. Vishal recalled, “It transformed the entire emotion.”

Jokingly, he told her, “Lata ji, now I must share the composer’s credit with you.” She laughed and replied, “Why should I share? I’ll stay a singer here.”

But he emphasised that she was indeed a composer too. “People forget she composed music for a Marathi film under another name. She acted in childhood. Her instinct elevated the song.”

The audience at IFFI listened in pin-drop silence. Even Ajaneesh Loknath, known for his experimental soundscapes, smiled as if witnessing a secret being revealed.