The buzz around Lokah Chapter 1: Chandra, one of Malayalam cinema’s most ambitious recent releases, has brought a new name to the fore: Reble, a rapper-singer from Shillong. You can hear her powerful voice when she spits bars in the film’s pulsing title track, Thani Lokah Murakkaari, composed by Jakes Bejoy.
For Reble, born Daiaphi Lamare, it was her first film score, a collaboration that placed her before new audiences across the country. But the road to this moment began much earlier, in the hills of Meghalaya, where music is a second language.
“In Shillong, music is everywhere,” she says. “I was maybe five or six when I started noticing sound. Rock, hip-hop, indie. It was always in the air. By 10, I was scribbling rhymes, rapping, trying to find a place for myself. I didn’t have much or didn’t really fit in. Music became my outlet.”
Her heroes gave her a map, and she found herself a compass. “Eminem, Andre 3000, The Notorious B.I.G. They showed me struggle doesn’t have to be pretty to be powerful. Linkin Park and RHCP showed me you can blend genres and let emotion lead. Later, Pink Floyd and MGMT added new textures,” she says.
Her artist name reflects that defiance. “Reble comes from rebellion. I always hated being told what to do. Daiaphi is vulnerable; Reble is amplified, defiant. The alter ego lets me explore darker parts without worrying how they’ll be judged. It’s not just a name; it’s a mood, a voice, a strength,” she explains.
Like Eminem’s Slim Shady, the persona gave her licence to be blunt. “I’m not a people-pleaser. Reble allows me to say things Daiaphi would hesitate to.” That honesty carried into her Lokah debut. “It was my first film score. The crew let me understand the character, relate to her struggles, and still gave me the freedom to bring my own flavour. That balance felt good.”
She’d studied the brief closely, finding parallels with her own story. “The character’s pain wasn’t alien to me. I didn’t have to fake it. I knew what she was going through.” The experience left her hungry for more film projects, though she insists her independent work will remain an anchor.
“I want both. The big projects that stretch me, and solo work that stays raw.”
Though music has taken her across India, Shillong still pulls her. “It’s bittersweet. There’s the hunger of having little, the drive to dream bigger. Both fuel me,” she says. But it also keeps her mindful of systemic hurdles for musicians in the Northeast.
“Many deserving artists don’t get platforms. To change that, we need more festivals, independent labels investing in regional talent, more media coverage, and collaboration across regions. We need better studios, better engineers, better equipment. Without infrastructure, ambition alone can’t take you far,” she points out.
When asked if she feels pressure to represent her region or her gender, she shakes her head. “Representation comes naturally, not forced. I just want to make good music. Good art speaks for everything you are.” As for gatekeepers, she says, “I just do my thing. I always have to prove myself, so I did better, and that helped me. I don’t waste time on people who think I can’t.”
Reble’s process is part instinct, part discipline. “Usually, I hear a beat, get a feeling, then I build. Sometimes I freestyle until something sticks. Recording is about refining… for what sounds good in your head doesn’t always land on the mic,” she says.
Performing live changes the music again. “That moment when someone in the crowd gets it — like they know exactly where you’re coming from — that’s when I come alive. The performance changes as time moves, but the core message stays,” she says.
She’s blunt about the grind behind the stage. “It’s not glamorous. You stay up all night, write ten verses to keep one, fight with yourself about lines. And sometimes you still hate it. But when it clicks — when the verse locks into the beat — it’s magic,” Reble says.
Discipline, it came early. A civil engineering graduate, she says, “Ask anybody who knows me and they’ll tell you I stuck to that motto. We humans are smarter and more capable than we think.” That rigour now shapes her art, though perfectionism can sting.
“Many projects haven’t landed the way I wanted. I’m a perfectionist, so it bugs me. But that’s the life of an artist. Highs and lows. I just happen to like polishing it until it shines,” she adds.
Her music resists boxes. “Hip-hop gave me my voice. But I also grew up on Pink Floyd, MGMT, RHCP… my sound is all of that. I don’t want to be locked into one lane.”
But when asked if the ‘industry’ is receptive to that, she says it is very skewed. “Indie music has momentum. But it’s uneven. Marginal voices get sidelined. What we need is originality, not just aesthetics,” Reble says.
There’s an emphasis on streaming and social media metrics, but it doesn’t bother her. “We should stick to making good music and adapt. The only thing I worry about is dying before I put out my best work. The rest doesn’t bother me,” Reble says.
Ambition, though, is constant. “I want to make the best music coming out of South Asia. A new EP, more collaborations, bigger stages. Still raw, still me, but cleaner, bigger.” She says it without hesitation: “I strongly believe I can express myself in a way that reaches the world. I am different.”