Bawari Basanti On Finding Her Voice In Indie And Folk Fusion: 'My Music Is Where Chaos Meets Calm' | Exclusive
Bawari Basanti, aka Mahima Dayal Mathur, is rewriting indie music’s rules with her seamless blend of Hindustani classical roots and experimental soundscapes.
She’s the storm and the calm, the folk-rooted mystic and the indie rebel. Meet Bawari Basanti—aka Mahima Dayal Mathur—the genre-bending voice who’s been quietly weaving Hindustani classical textures with contemporary beats long before it became a trend. Whether she’s crooning dreamy tunes like Saawariye or flipping traditional folk on its head with projects like Pallo Latke, Bawari’s music feels like wandering through a surreal soundscape—equal parts nostalgia and experimentation.
Fresh off her stint at the KOLAB HER MUSIC CAMP, she’s also fiercely vocal about carving space for women in an industry still ruled by boys’ clubs. In this exclusive chat, she opens up about blending chaos and calm in her sound, why she separates Mahima from Bawari Basanti, and how storytelling is the thread tying all her creative worlds together—whether it’s on a stage, in the studio, or navigating life itself.
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Here are the excerpts:
What are some of the biggest challenges female artists face in the independent music industry, and how can platforms like KOLAB HER MUSIC CAMP help address them?
I can speak from my own experience. The industry we work in is very nightlife-oriented, which can be a challenge in itself. Additionally, access to streamlined information is often difficult—most knowledge is scattered across platforms like YouTube. There are also existing groups and cliques of producers and composers that are hard to break into, especially for women. These industry circles, particularly in urban areas, are often male-dominated, making it even more challenging for female artists to gain access. I can’t even begin to imagine how much harder it is for women from Tier 2 or Tier 3 cities who have limited access to technology and production tools. One of the biggest barriers is understanding how to use technology to create music independently, rather than relying on others. Having access to this knowledge and the means to produce music on one’s own is incredibly empowering, and platforms like KOLAB HER MUSIC CAMP can help bridge that gap by providing essential resources and mentorship.
Your music is a seamless blend of Hindustani classical and contemporary sounds. Do you ever feel a conflict between tradition and modernity when creating music, or do they naturally come together for you?
My music is simply a reflection of where I am in life—a girl trying to stay connected to her roots while navigating the contemporary world. My learning process and my curiosity about my own identity naturally bring me closer to tradition, while my modern influences prevent me from forcing anything. I don’t try to ‘balance’ the two—it just happens organically.
Your grandmother, Smt. Lalita Dayal, was a Hindustani classical vocalist. What is the most invaluable lesson you inherited from her?
She taught me to speak my mind when I should.
The name ‘Bawari Basanti’ has an interesting origin. Has your artistic persona evolved differently from Mahima Dayal Mathur, or do they exist as one?
I used to struggle with separating the two, but as I’ve grown older and gone through therapy, I’ve learned to bifurcate them. If you meet me at home or in my personal space, I am Mahima. But the moment I step on stage and tie my ghungroos, I transform into Bawari Basanti. She is powerful, embodying pure shakti, while Mahima is still learning, questioning, and evolving.
You originally pursued a career in journalism. How does your background in storytelling influence your approach to music?
When I was a journalist, I received a lot of press releases, and I hated being told how to narrate someone else’s story. That experience made me realize that storytelling, whether through cinema, writing, or music, is about taking the audience on a journey. If you can do that, it changes everything. Journalism helped me understand the power of storytelling, but it also taught me that I want to tell stories in my own way.
Music is often a deeply personal medium for self-expression. Do you ever find it challenging to share such intimate pieces of yourself with the world?
Not really. For me, releasing music is like giving life to something that allows me to create something even better next time. It’s part of my artistic process—I learn from each song I release, and that learning helps me grow. The world hearing my music comes later; my personal growth is the priority.
Your EP Aarzoo was a deeply personal exploration of longing and dreams. If you had to describe each song as a different phase of self-discovery, how would you break it down?
Puri Wudi was a collaboration with a French artist, Anu Reserve, and it was about navigating cultural and personal perspectives. Tray was about my younger, more insecure self, while Copy Cycle involved French jazz artists and taught me about international collaborations. Each song in Aarzoo was a learning experience, both in music and in life.
Your debut EP Underwater was an immersive experience in experimental sounds. How has your approach to composing and songwriting evolved since then?
I have become more intentional with my sound and more confident in my ability to communicate my vision. When I was making Underwater, I was still figuring things out, and while I love the rawness of that process, I now have a clearer understanding of my artistic direction.
In tracks like Ude and Saawariye, there’s a dreamlike, almost trance-inducing quality. Do you consciously create sonic spaces that transport listeners, or is that just a byproduct of your creative process?
It’s both. I don’t necessarily set out with that intention, but I do want to create immersive experiences. I let the music guide me, and if it transports the listener, then I know I’ve done something right.
Thirak Thirak was created for the Sony LIV series Good Bad Girl. How does your approach change when composing for a film/series versus an independent track?
When composing for a show, you have to align with the director’s vision while still maintaining your own sound. It’s a collaborative process where you have to find the balance between storytelling and musical expression.
Pallo Latke reimagined a classic folk tune for Rainbow Rishta. What was your thought process in maintaining cultural authenticity while adding your signature twist?
I wanted to respect the song’s traditional essence while making it relevant for today’s listeners. Folk music is timeless, and my goal was to celebrate its roots while adding my own sonic interpretation.
Dekh Na carries a profound melancholic beauty. Was there a personal story behind its creation?
Yes, but I think music should be open to interpretation. I prefer listeners to find their own meaning in the song rather than imposing my own narrative.
The track Kaliyaan released in 2024 feels deeply immersive. What was the inspiration behind its composition and the choice of sound textures?
Kaliyaan was about exploring depth, both musically and emotionally. I wanted to create a soundscape that felt like being submerged in an experience rather than just listening to a song.
You’ve collaborated with hip-hop artists like Seedhe Maut on Pankh. What excites you about genre-blending, and how do you navigate the balance between classical and contemporary elements?
I love genre-blending because it challenges me. Hip-hop and classical music might seem like opposites, but they share an emotional depth that makes the fusion feel natural.
Have you ever written a song that completely changed direction during production? Can you share a behind-the-scenes story of a song that evolved unexpectedly?
Absolutely. There have been songs where I started with one idea, but once I got into the production process, it took a completely different form. That’s the beauty of creation—you never know where it will take you.
Your music often feels cinematic. Have you ever considered composing an entire film soundtrack? If so, what kind of story would you love to score?
Yes, I would love to score a film! I think a story with deep emotional layers, maybe something mystical or psychological, would be exciting to work on.
With AI and digital tools becoming prevalent in music production, do you see yourself experimenting with technology-driven music, or do you prefer an organic, human touch?
I think technology can be a great tool, but my music will always have a human essence at its core.
You’ve performed at festivals like Hornbill and Jodhpur RIFF. What’s your dream venue or festival where you’d love to showcase your music?
Once my album is out, I definitely want to explore more festival opportunities. I have a long list of places I’d love to perform at, including KEXP’s live concerts. I also want to be part of festivals that truly embrace diverse and experimental sounds.
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