Applause arrived before the music did. At Shilpakala Vedika, anticipation filled the air as audiences gathered for a weekend evening of Jazbaa curated by Rudraksha Live Entertainment. Singer-composer Sourabh Joshi opened the night with warmth, and Azizon Ki Toli (her band) eased the hall into a soulful calm. Then came an unexpected twist — a burst of beatboxing that stirred curiosity. As rhythms swelled and lights softened, she appeared — Rekha Bhardwaj, dressed in a beautiful flared kurta set with a maroon velvet dupatta. Without dramatic announcement, without overt theatrics, she stood there; composed, luminous.
As Mileya Mileya rose into the hall — a song she would later share is ‘usually saved for the end’ — Hyderabad realised this would not be a predictable evening. The unexpected beatboxing melted into her textured, unmistakable voice, bridging contemporary pulse with timeless emotion.
After the opening song, she paused, soaking in the applause. “It feels so great to be in Hyderabad back again,” she said warmly. Her affection for the city was unmistakable. “I feel that I’ve known Hyderabad since I was 12 or 13 years old. Hyderabad is my most favourite city,” she added.
Before moving into the next set, she explained the art of Sufi whirling. She gracefully explained, “In Sufi tradition, we keep one palm facing upwards and one downwards. It is about receiving from existence and giving back to the earth. We seek blessings for everyone present here — for the people on the roads, for those who are working hard, and for those who will receive the energy from the vibration of our music.” The hall fell into reverent silence.
Raat Baaki brought a playful sensuality to the stage. The lighting turned moody, shadows dancing along with her voice, and the audience swayed gently. Then came her personal favourite, Tere Bin Nahi Lagda. The hall sang along almost instinctively.
As she spoke about meeting friends here during her younger days, the concert began to feel deeply personal. The stage lights softened; nostalgia filled the air. “I am still the same Rekha Bansal that you knew,” she shared tenderly; referring to her maiden name, as if reaching back into her own memories. As she began her next, 'Kaisi teri khudhgarzi na dhoop chune na chaav', there were visible tears in the crowd. The song became a bridge between past and present — a quiet homage to friendships that time cannot erode. Then came a moment of profound gratitude. Speaking about Teri Fariyaad from Tum Bin 2, she shared, “Ankit Tiwari composed this for me, and I have always adored Jagjit Singh ji. It was a dream to sing alongside him… a dream that felt unfulfilled. But life had its own journey.” She spoke about how it felt performing the song in Hyderabad after 2010. “I am grateful I got to sing this, to give it my voice,” she shares.
The audience listened in complete stillness as she sang — each word heavy with longing and reverence. Aise Kyun followed, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the hall. The vulnerability in her voice pierced through the silence.
When she announced, “This next one is for some really close associates and of course, for all of you,” she launched into Naina Thag Lenge from Omkara. The intensity was electric — raw, powerful, almost theatrical. Phir Le Aaya Dil unfolded like a sigh — gentle, aching, nostalgic. Couples held hands. Some closed their eyes entirely, surrendering to memory. Then, in a delightful shift, she surprised everyone with a Spanish refrain — Bésame Mucho — playfully blending cultures and showing her musical versatility.
The mood turned folk-funky with Namak Ishq Ka, the beats infectious, the crowd clapping along. She even slipped into Halka Halka — originally associated with Arijit Singh; adding her own texture to the beloved melody. And just when you thought the emotional peak had passed, she amped up the energy with celebratory anthems:
Sasural Genda Phool had the audience dancing in their seats; Ghagra brought sparkle and rhythm. Hamari Atariya turned the hall into a festive courtyard and Darling closed the loop with sass and soul.
Rekha Bharadwaj didn’t just perform, she inhabited every note. Her three-decade-long ada shimmered in every gesture, every smile, every pause between verses. By the end of the evening, it was clear, this wasn’t merely a concert. It was an exchange of energy. A reminder that music is not just heard; it is felt. As promised, the evening truly stood by its words — ehsaas and jazba — connecting hearts to hearts through sur and soul.