Amid multiple Supreme Court hearings on the case of stray dogs, Mohit Chauhan has released Meri Aawaz to lend his voice to the voiceless. The singer, who performed at a protest in Delhi on Sunday advocating humane policies for community dogs, speaks to us about the song, him caring for over 400 dogs and other stray animals, and why scientific, compassionate solutions – not cruelty – are the way forward.

The inspiration came from years of being closely associated with street dogs, and more recently, from the growing narrative around relocating all street dogs into shelters. The recommendations by the Animal Welfare Board of India (AWBI) for very small shelter spaces deeply saddened me and made me think about the countless dogs we care for on the streets – dogs who currently live among people who love them and look after them. The thought that this life of coexistence could suddenly be taken away was very disturbing.

While I was composing the song, my wife, Prarthana, who is a writer and lyricist, put these emotions into words. Together, we tried to express what these dogs might be feeling. Subsequently, Abhinay Soni (video editor) and Raaj Aashoo worked with us to create a strong visual impression for the song. When you feed, rescue, and care for street dogs every day, you begin to truly see their world – their vulnerability, resilience, and their incredible capacity for love. Yet, their pain and emotions often go unnoticed or misunderstood.

It’s both. The emotions are deeply personal, but the intention is to lend my voice to those who cannot speak for themselves. Music has the power to translate silence into feeling. If a song can make someone pause and truly feel empathy for a stray animal, then it has fulfilled its purpose. I also believe this song represents not just the voice of animals, but of millions of silent and often invisible caregivers across the world who dedicate their lives to protecting them.

I have immense respect for activists, feeders, and caregivers who continue to show compassion despite resistance and hostility. My message to them is – your work matters. You are standing for empathy in a time when it is urgently needed. Change takes time, but kindness always leaves an impact – even when it feels invisible.

I believe the conversation needs to shift from fear and blame to understanding and coexistence. Street dogs are part of our shared environment, and their presence reflects how we design and manage our cities and communities. The way forward lies in compassionate, scientific solutions – such as sterilization, vaccination, and community-based care – not cruelty. Issues such as overpopulation and rabies can be effectively addressed if municipalities are adequately funded and work in collaboration with caregivers to manage populations humanely and move towards the eradication of rabies in the country.

We must also acknowledge that animals – especially dogs – continue to face widespread cruelty in our society, including severe abuse and violence. Despite the gravity of these acts, the penalties under existing laws remain extremely inadequate, with fines as low as Rs. 50 in some cases. This is a critical gap that needs urgent attention. Strengthening animal protection laws and ensuring stricter enforcement is essential if we are truly committed to compassion and justice.

Our own ancient Indian culture deeply respects animals. In our scriptures and traditions, animals are seen as companions and protectors, not as a nuisance. From references in the Vedas to Lord Bhairava’s vahan being a dog, dogs have held a significant and symbolic place in our cultural consciousness.

As a human being, compassion is non-negotiable for me. As an artiste, I believe I have a responsibility to use my voice for something meaningful. Caring for animals isn’t charity – it’s about recognizing shared life and inherent dignity. This cause keeps me grounded and reminds me of what truly matters. At its core, true art is always connected to a cause, and true artistes must carry compassion within them; without it, how could one genuinely express, connect, or create work that resonates.

Mohit Chauhan hails from Nahan in the Sirmaur district of Himachal Pradesh. Having grown up in the state, the singer says “to see such calamity hit your home state is heartbreaking”. He adds, “What’s happening there is scary,” referring to the devastation caused by the heavy rains in the state.

The Gehraiyaan (Gehraiyaan; 2022) singer has “friends and family all over Himachal Pradesh” and not being able to contact them makes him worried.

“A lot of them are in the areas that are being reported in the news, including Kullu and Mandi. Given how bad the situation in Himachal is at the moment, I haven’t been able to get through to a lot of my family and friends because their phones are either unreachable or discharged due to the power cuts. When you can’t communicate with your loved ones, a feeling of helplessness sets in,” he says.

The 57-year-old urges everyone to come together and contribute towards the relief operations: “The areas where rain is causing havoc are places I have frequented, lived in and constantly gone back to. While the government is doing all it can to help the situation, it’s time for us to come together and help out those who are suffering.”

Chauhan feels one needs to be responsible while carrying out construction activities in the state to avert such calamity in the future. “It’s high time we start working towards conserving and consolidating life in the mountains. If we respect Nature while planning infrastructure development, there is a good chance to lessen the effect of such a catastrophe,” he ends.

On a chilly winter Sunday night at Sunder Nursery, Imtiaz Ali turned into a storyteller for Delhiites at Kathakar International Storytelling Festival. For his fans, it was probably the ideal way to spend their Sunday evening, who came with the filmmaker’s portraits and CDs and posters of his films. In a conversation with Mohit Chauhan, Imtiaz highlighted his Delhi days, what made him miss the FIFA World Cup and why making music for Rockstar felt like a workshop.

Imtiaz has several stories to share when it comes to his days in Delhi. The moderator started with the disclaimer that there are stories we can talk about, and there are stories we cannot talk about. To which Imtiaz replied, “The story that I am thinking of, it’s a story with multiple characters.”

He added, “I had come to Delhi from Jamshedpur; I used to be a part of a theatre group called Act One while I was staying at the Hindu College’s hostel. We used to catch trains from Delhi to go to Jamshedpur. My friends would insist on going along with me because the best-looking girl would always be in my compartment. Buses mein bhi aisa hota tha. I used to find Delhi girls very talkative, they used to talk incessantly. They would go like, ‘Pata hai main ja rahi thi…’ there was a certain rhythm, unki personal baatein, relationship talks, yeh saari cheezein mere dimag mein thi. All stories of my life are incomplete in some ways, and I think it’s a good thing because they can complete themselves in my film.”

Imtiaz said that this story about these girls that he had met completed itself in Jab We Met. “That’s the same girl, and I have met her several times in several places but always in Delhi,” he added.

Imtiaz Ali said one of his most loved films, Jab We Met, was rejected the most. “But anything that is rejected is not necessarily bad. It is just not suited for that person, at that time. Everything that I have done, especially the ones that are successful, jo zyada chali hain, wahi zyada reject bhi hui hain. I can’t tell you how many producers and actors rejected it. Not because it was wrong, but it was not suited to them at that time. And this is what I want to say to young people – rejection is not a judgement of the quality of your work at all. You have to take rejections as a medal. If something is accepted easily, usually there is something wrong with it. So be afraid of things that are easily accepted; it means you have not found your depth in it,” said the filmmaker.

Imtiaz Ali’s Tamasha recently completed seven years. And when the moderator notified the audience about it, they broke into a loud cheer. “The people who cheered like that, the movie belongs to them,” said Imtiaz, adding, “I have constantly been overwhelmed by the number of people who keep coming to me over the years and telling me their stories, which is related to Tamasha, and how they took the decision to change the flow of their lives and follow the journey of their hearts. I feel guilty when someone tells me that they left their job because of my film. So many people have been positively motivated by the film’s story.”

When Imtiaz asked Mohit about his connection with the hills, he said, “Main pahadon mein hi raha hoon, sab padhai karke main Delhi aaya. Ek abhi bhi jo sukoon hai, woh wahin milta hai. . . It is conducive to your art. If you sit close to nature, it gives you inspiration.”

Talking further about how the music for Rockstar was created, Mohit shared, “Rockstar was like a workshop....” Imtiaz added, “...Na tune thi, na lyrics thay, kuch bhi nahi tha. Sab kuch saath mein tha.” 

“Kuch gaane jab Imtiaz ne mujhe bheje, like Jo Bhi Main was a 10-minute song with no lyrics, bas jam ho raha hai. Jab maine pehli baar suna toh main ghabra gaya. Maine socha dekh lenge, ek week baad inhone ek aur gaana bhej diya, aur woh bhi aisa tha toh main ghabra gaya. Par woh gaane rough diamond thay, jisse dheere-dheere tarasha jaane lage. Irshad (Kamil) sahab words saamne saamne likh rahe thay, it was an experience. It was amazing,” added Mohit.

Imtiaz, a regular speaker at the Kathakar International Storytelling Festival, shared, “It is true that the energy of this place is blessed in many ways. If you look around, you will find grand historical monuments and spirituality in proximity. Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya is next door; Gurdwara Damdama Sahib is there. I feel in some ways, this is a very auspicious place. I was supposed to be at the Qatar World Cup and watching a match, and I was going to be taken there free of cost and somebody was organising the ticket as well. Unhone kaha aap kaun si team follow karte ho? I said I follow Brazil and this time I think we will win. I wanted to see a Brazil match but then there was also this, so I thought woh pata nahi, yeh dekh lete hain pehle. That was not the only reason, but I’m happy to be here instead.”

Mohit Chauhan has given several hits, but confesses that he is not a fan of remixes. In fact, what irks him the most is when people try to cash in on the popularity of an old hit. “It’s alright to genuinely revisit a song, but I don’t like remixes. Bahut sare gaane kharab bhi ho jaate hain... I don’t think there is any need to make a remix of a song. Bahut saare remix hain mere gaano ke jo itne achche nahin ho paaye. Masakali (Delhi-6; 2009) ka bhi achcha nahin tha toh A R Rahman sahab (composer) bhi bahut naraaz huye the,” says Chauhan, who was recently in Delhi to attend a storytelling festival.

Talking about Indian cinema and the north-south divide, the crooner believes that music has no part in it as it has no barriers. “Music, like it’s said, is a universal language. You can listen to a song in Spanish or any south Indian or north-eastern language, if the melody touches you then one can feel the emotions. People will make films in their language because they have an audience, but music has no language and it’s a powerful medium that can cross any barrier,” adds Chauhan, who is happy to be back on the stage to perform for live audiences.

“For any artiste, the studio is [just] one part (of the musical journey) where you manufacture your song. But when you go out and sing those songs, you expect people to sing with you; that can only happen on the stage. This was something that didn’t happen for over two years, and now that it has sort of opened up, it’s great to be back,” ends the former Silk Route vocalist.

Mohit Chauhan is busy working on a new album these days, one that he hopes to release by the end of this year. The Matargashti singer spoke to us recently about current music trends, his aversion to singing remakes, and more. Excerpts:

Mohit is clear about not singing recreated versions ofold hits. In fact, he even turned down an offer to sing one. Voicing his opinion on the same, he says, “It’s not like I don’t like singing old Hindi songs. I have sung Kishore Kumar ji’s songs on my online channel, but I don’t like the way old songs are recreated. Music directors are deconstructing the songs and remaking them with rap and other elements that probably don’t even go with the song’s essence. As a result, the purity of the original song gets lost, and I don’t support that. These songs need to be treated aesthetically and with a lot of love. ”

Mohit shot to fame with independent music. Be it Dooba Dooba or Boondein, the former Silk Route vocalist’s songs are among the most heard compositions on the indie music scene. Talking about the indie music scenario today, Mohit says that nowadays it gets difficult to differentiate between non-film music and film music.

“Probably the music labels feel that these are the songs that will do well, but the fearlessness to play with different genres is missing on the indie scene today. When we used to create music as a band, there were so many independent musicians and bands that had a distinct style. I think music companies and labels need to identify, pick and push musicians who have the potential to think out of the box and create a unique identity,” he says, adding, “One needs to have a free mind and the ability to delve deep inside to create something beautiful, original and close to their heart.”

Mohit says, “Social media cannot be the measure of a song’s popularity. Jo sangeet-premi hote hai, woh waise bhi gaana sunenge, bhale hi woh gaana social media me popular ho ya nahi. Social media is like instant noodles —it provides instant drama and entertainment, but isn’t a platform to assess good music.”

T he loss of loved ones, SOS messages for oxygen, trouble in finding a bed — the Coronavirus second wave did bring the Capital to its knees. And it was the death of an aide that inspired singer Mohit Chauhan to start a campaign to provide oxygen concentrators and other basics, especially to frontline workers.

“We had a civil contractor, Bajrangi Maurya, who had been working with us for two years. During the second wave, he developed breathing issues after testing Covid positive. With the help of Delhi Police, we managed to get him oxygen and a bed. But that hospital ran out of oxygen; while we were searching for another bed, he passed away. The fact that he couldn’t get help in time lingered in my head,” says Chauhan, adding, “So I started Project Bajrangi to raise funds and get essentials like oxygen concentrator, for the needy.”

For the campaign, Chauhan has partnered with Delhi Police and a few NGOs to distribute necessities, including the first batch of 5,000 N95 masks for frontline workers. The singer adds, “We don’t know for how long this pandemic will last, but we need to be prepared for the future. Under this project, we are in talks with the authorities to set up an oxygen plant in Delhi. We’re also trying to build a hospital that’ll cater to the frontline workers.”

Chauhan has been quite active on social media, amplifying SOS messages of the needy. “I’m trying to do what I can, to help India fight the pandemic,” says the musician, who along with his wife Prarthana, has been feeding over 150 stray dogs in Delhi, since the first lockdown in March 2020 and has set up a trust for animal welfare. “We’re not only feeding strays, but also getting them vaccinated and sterilised. We plan to continue working for their welfare as the second wave has brought up more cases of pet abandonment,” he says.

Amid grief and despair, the singer uses music as his meditation, while also working on his new album.

“But, I believe unless we find peace and ease, we won’t enjoy anything. So, that is my focus for now,” he concludes.

Thirteen years ago, on October 26, a feisty Geet Kaur Dhillon bumped into a heartbroken tycoon Aditya Kashyap in a train to Delhi and therein began a roller coaster ride to finding true love. Imtiaz Ali’s romcom, Jab We Met, still brings a smile and a song to our lips, and for its composer, Pritam, memories in plenty, some linked to his own wedding.

“Back then, I was super busy, juggling multiple projects. One day before the shaadi, I took off to Chennai to listen to the final mix of ‘It’s Rocking’ from Kya Love Story Hai and missed my haldi ceremony. The family was already seething when, to make matters worse, on the day of the wedding, I took a wrong turn on the highway and arrived an hour-and-a-half late,” he recounts.

In the midst of chaos, Imtiaz called to ask what he was doing and in response to his “Shaadi kar raha hoon” told Pritam he needed a song, abhi. He was persuaded to wait two days, till his music director had finished with his wedding. On the third day, immediately after the second reception in Mumbai, at 1:30 am, Pritam drove off to Khandala with lyricist Irshad Kamil.

En route, they desultorily discussed how to crack a song telling a love story, like Mirza-Sahiba’s. Two hours later, when they drove into the parking lot of Duke’s Hotel, the unit had just packed up. At 5.30 am, they walked out of Shahid Kapoor’s room to head back to the city, having delivered the song to Imtiaz.

“It was programmed and recorded the next day, with Irshad bhai writing on the spot, even as Javed Ali took the mic; ‘Pataka Pataka’ and ‘Damama Damama’ crystalising in ‘Nagada Nagada’. The next day, Imtiaz left for Chandigarh with his actors and choreographer Bosco Martis to shoot it,” Pritam reminisces, adding that, distraught over what he believed was a very bad song, he delayed the shoot for four days, sending his director several other options.

Imtiaz, Pritam, and Irshad are more friends than colleagues and have an unwritten code whereby each has the power to veto the other’s suggestion once during a film. “In this case, Imtiaz used his veto power to go with ‘Nagada Nagada’ and we ended up with a chartbuster. He got his moment when my idol, Asha Bhosle ji, said that my bad song was one of her favourites,” he chuckles.

The first song to be composed, however, was “Mauja Hi Mauja”, whose lyrics were already written and approved. Pritam entered the picture rather late, on the strong recommendation of the producers and Shahid, with Imtiaz, an old friend, happily agreeing. He played the song on his guitar to the director, who then left for a recce in Shimla. Soon after, he invited Irshad and Pritam there for a sitting. The latter was all set to fly down to Delhi when he ran into Mahesh Bhatt, who warned him that taking the aerial route to Kulu was a life risk as the airport was nestled in the mountains. So, though his lyricist had already reached the capital, Pritam chickened out, using the excuse of his marriage and many commitments. “Imtiaz was mad that I’d ditched him, but I stayed on,” he says sheepishly.

During the shooting, Pritam kept sending multiple options for a love song but none sounded right. “I will wait,” Imtiaz told the musical genius reassuringly and was rewarded with the achingly beautiful “Tum Se Hi” that waltzes out of moments and memories. “Then, we couldn’t connect with Mohit Chauhan, who had switched off his phone. He called back after a month-and-a-half and was surprised that we were still waiting for him. ‘Tum Se Hi’ was his breakthrough song in Bollywood,” Pritam says.

Shimla brings back another memory, of how he’d used his veto power to push a song on Imtiaz just before he left, then, listening to it again, realised that it didn’t sound as good. “After seeing Kareena (Kapoor) in ‘It’s Rocking’ I’d promised I’d give her something unforgettable. ‘Yeh Ishq Hai’ was that gift on the rebound,” Pritam laughs.

So, which of these gems helped him make amends with wife Smita after the faux pas on their wedding day? “I’ll have to ask her that,” he admits, but acknowledges that over the last 15 years, all his milestones have been linked to his music. “I was recording ‘Hare Ram Hare Ram’ for Bhool Bhulaiyaa when my son Purvash kicked for the first time in his mother’s womb. My daughter, Ishqa, was born a day before Tum Mile’s release. I went to the Siddhivinayak temple to pray for both; the film bombed, but I still got a blockbuster,” he signs off.

It was thought that his soft voice would only suit songs like Tum Se Hi (Jab We Met), Masakali (Delhi 6), but Mohit Chauhan broke that stereotype by becoming the rock singer character's voice in Rockstar. In an interview, he talks about his latest song from Bombay Velvet, jazz, folk music and competition. Behroopia is all trumpets and sax.

Is this your first jazz number?
The film Bombay Velvet is set in the 1950s and 60s, so Anurag (Kashyap) wanted music that is set in that era. At that time, in addition to rock n roll and western bands getting popular in Mumbai and Kolkata, restaurants and clubs also played a lot of jazz music. So through Behroopia, they wanted to convey the romantic chemistry between Ranbir Kapoor and Anushka Sharma. Amit Trivedi, who has composed the soundtrack, asked me to approach the song in a relaxed way and yet capture the romance of it.

You became Ranbir's voice in Rockstar, singing all the songs for him. Do you miss that trend of the 70s-80s, where only one singer would be identified with an actor's voice?
The connection with Ranbir has been there for many years now. I sang for him in many films and it is good that people find my voice matching such a brilliant actor. I do agree that when a singer sings all the songs for one actor in a film, the impact is much better. Even earlier, when Kishore Kumar sang for Rajesh Khanna, he was not limited to Khanna only. He did sing for other actors. So now, if an actor has other vocalists singing for him, we have to be cool.

You started off as a music composer with Silk Route. Is it still hard to market your own music?
I not only composed music for my albums, but also for the film Main, Meri Patni Aur Woh. It is hard work - composing a song for a film and showing it to makers - 50% of the tune remains the same and the remaining 50% is changed to suit the script. It was a long process before your own independent music could reach out to audiences. Now that we can upload songs on the internet and get audiences' reaction, the process is faster.

Many male playback singers today are doing your kind of songs. Comment.
Like there are many singers and music composers entering the market everyday, I also see that there are many Bollywood films made everyday. I am not bothered because I get my share of songs. I have been singing for 10-12 years. Every film has 4-5 songs and if it is divided between talented singers, I have no complaints. It is good to have competition because that helps you survive in the long run. I also feel that only when you have something 'special' - an expression and voice to connect with a song - you will survive longer here.

You belong to the small town Nahan in Himachal Pradesh. Did it influence your early interest in music?
Apart from Kishore Kumar, the textbook singer for my musical influence early in life, I was impressed with my state's folk music. In fact, folk music is what identifies each region and so I was introduced to it early on in my life. My love for folk music also earned me a chance to be an ambassador for the World Voice Programme of the British Council in India. I promote music among kids in schools in India and abroad. I introduce them to folk music here and abroad. This arouses the curiosity of different cultures among countries globally. I also enjoy old Hindi film music and am impressed with good lyrics. I never say yes to songs that have lewd lyrics or double meaning.

What's keeping you busy?
After my previous album Fitoor in 2009, I am currently working on another album. I am planning to release the songs as singles. I am also collaborating with African musicians on some Hindi and African songs. Hopefully, I will also compose music for films in the future.

You have a good collection of caps!
Yes, I fancy my caps a lot. I pick up a cap anywhere I go. It keeps me warm and I can also hide under them when I want to. My eyes and expressions get hidden when I wear my cap.