Asha Bhosle was once almost hit by a train

Mumbai : The legendary singer Asha Bhosle - who passed away here aged 92 on April 12 - once lived far from the arc lights of fame, in the distant north-west suburb of Borivali, in the early 1950s, when she was still a struggling artist finding her voice. In those difficult days, she developed an enduring affection for the humble trains. When buses and taxis were beyond her means, Asha-tai relied on the Western Railway’s suburban locals, travelling across the city for her recording...

min read

Asha Bhosle was once almost hit by a train

Mumbai : The legendary singer Asha Bhosle - who passed away here aged 92 on April 12 - once lived far from the arc lights of fame, in the distant north-west suburb of Borivali, in the early 1950s, when she was still a struggling artist finding her voice. In those difficult days, she developed an enduring affection for the humble trains. When buses and taxis were beyond her means, Asha-tai relied on the Western Railway’s suburban locals, travelling across the city for her recording assignments. Reaching the Borivali station itself was no small task. Faced with a long detour, she often chose a shortcut - a risky trudge across the railway tracks and it was this ‘trespassing’ that once almost cost her life. Recalling the terrifying episode at a public function nearly 25 years ago, Asha-tai shuddered: “It was monsoon season and pouring. I had covered my head with a rain-coat and was walking on the tracks. Because of the heavy rains, I could barely hear anything. A steam engine of an Ahmedabad-bound train was coming from behind, whistling desperately - but I remained oblivious. I was almost a goner… Suddenly, there was either a push or I myself stumbled and fell off the tracks. Seconds later, the train rushed past me at full speed, still whistling furiously.” She later described her survival from the brush with death as nothing short of a miracle – probably, an act of divine intervention. “Perhaps, the Almighty wanted me to sing more for all of you, so I survived…” she said, with her trademark mischievous laughter, reflecting on that little-known chapter of her early life. Love for Trains Despite the dangers, her love for trains only deepened. The multi-faceted crooner delightfully mimicked the “cooing” whistles of the old steam engines - “very pleasing,” she would say - and contrasted them with the “ghonn-ghonn” honks of modern-day trains, which she found far less charming. Asha-tai vividly recreated the hustle-bustle of a typical Indian railway platform: “There are vendors chanting, ‘Garrram Batata Vada, Chaiiii…!’ The taste on railway platforms - you won’t find it even in big hotels. If you want to experience that ‘chatpata’ flavour on the move, then you must travel by trains,” she urged, breaking into imitations that left audiences in splits. Emphasizing her love for the monsters on the railway tracks, she even sang a few lines from her own popular Marathi folk song, “Mamachya Gavala Jauya…” (1963), bringing alive the romantic spirit of India’s train journeys. Asha-tai, an avid train traveller, said trains were more than transport - they were a window to India. “To know India, you must travel by trains. They are a melting pot of cultures, you meet people of different religions and from multiple states, they are full of love and teach us a lot in life. A person who has not travelled by trains has seen nothing,” she said. “I have travelled all over India - starting in Third Class, then Second Class, and as I progressed, First Class. I made my children travel also in trains everywhere,” on her own romance with train journeys. When admirers likened her voice to that of Goddess Saraswati, she gently nudged and corrected them: “There is no comparison. Where Goddess Saraswati sets her foot, perhaps a little dust has fallen on me…” A Fragmented Past, A Family Reunited Acclaimed singer Usha Mangeshkar, 90, retains only hazy memories of her elder sister Asha Bhosle’s Borivali years - a period that followed her elopement and marriage to Ganpatrao Bhosle in 1949. The couple lived through a difficult phase, cut off from the Mangeshkar family and it was in Borivali that their first son, Hemant, was born. “Asha and Ganpat spent a few years there, but it was never really discussed openly in the family… I was too small to remember much,” Usha told ‘ The Perfect Voice’ . Years later, Asha returned to the family fold, first to their Dadar home, where her daughter Varsha was born and her ‘naamkaran’ (naming) ceremony was celebrated with great joy by all. As her marriage with Ganpatro floundered on the rocks, Asha reached out to her elder estranged eldest sister, Lata Mangeshkar, leading to a reconciliation. Around 1953, Asha-tai eventually moved back to the family residence in Walkeshwar, where her third son Anand was born. Usha Mangeshkar remembers that phase with warmth. By then, Lata Mangeshkar had become a towering figure in music, supported the entire family, and magnanimously purchased separate homes for her siblings in south Mumbai. “Even Ganpatrao (died 1966) was also a very nice person. His children - Hemant, Varsha and Anand - were raised very well. Gradually, all of us began living together again as a happy family,” Usha said in an emotional voice.

Records of Shame

Correspondent
Oct 20, 2025
3 min read

Karnataka Chief Minister Siddaramaiah and his Congress-led government recently turned a welfare milestone into a global embarrassment. By flaunting two ‘world records’ certified by a dissolved British firm, the Congress regime there has revealed its craving for validation at any cost.

On October 16, the Chief Minister triumphantly announced that Karnataka had “entered the global stage” with the Shakti Scheme and the Karnataka State Road Transport Corporation (KSRTC) earning recognition from the “London Book of World Records.” The Shakti Scheme, which provides free bus travel for women, was feted for having facilitated an astounding 564 crore rides; KSRTC, for its 464 awards since 1997.

Yet within hours, the claim collapsed like an overinflated balloon. The opposition quickly discovered that the London Book of World Records Ltd. - the certifying body behind these ‘global’ honours - had been dissolved months before the Chief Minister’s post. Its online footprint revealed something worse: the outfit peddled record ‘packages’ for a fee, offering Gold, Silver and Platinum certificates to whoever wished to buy their moment of fame.

Siddaramaiah’s post, unsurprisingly, vanished the next day. But screenshots had already spread far and wide, ensuring the embarrassment could not be deleted as easily as a tweet. “This certificate looks as fake as the Congress government itself,” taunted BJP leader C.T. Ravi. The Janata Dal (Secular) was more cutting still, quipping that not only was the agency’s “surname borrowed” but its credibility, too, was bought.

A government that prides itself on social welfare and administrative competence should have verified the legitimacy of a foreign ‘record book’ before parading it as international validation. The spectacle of India’s most prosperous southern state clinging to dubious certificates reveals a culture of vanity masquerading as governance.

Minister Ramalinga Reddy’s attempt at damage control only made matters worse. In his statement, he argued that the recognition was symbolic, meant to celebrate the state’s welfare success, and that “the facts remain unchanged.” The achievements, he insisted, were real - independent of any certification. If the achievements stand on their own, why chase meaningless ‘world records’ at all?

The answer lies in the Congress government’s growing obsession with optics over outcomes. The Shakti Scheme has been criticised even by transport unions and economists for draining the exchequer and straining bus operations. KSRTC’s finances remain precarious, and its workers have long demanded wage parity and better infrastructure. Yet instead of addressing these systemic problems, the government seems keener to spin them into glossy narratives of global acclaim.

Siddaramaiah’s penchant for grandstanding fits a pattern. From his five guarantee schemes to the state’s endless self-branding as a model of ‘social justice,’ his administration has perfected the art of conflating welfare with virtue and publicity with progress. The fake-record fiasco, then, is not an aberration but a symptom. When governance becomes a public-relations exercise, truth is the first casualty.

The irony is that Karnataka, with its economic dynamism, entrepreneurial spirit, and deep institutional capacity, does not need a London-based phantom to tell it what it has achieved. What it needs is sober, results-driven governance that can sustain welfare without bankrupting the state. Instead, Siddaramaiah’s team seems to mistake applause for achievement, mistaking press releases for policy. A state that once prided itself on innovation and pragmatism is now reduced to chasing paper trophies from obscure overseas entities.

The larger danger is that such stunts corrode credibility. When facts are embellished and governance is dressed up for social media applause, citizens lose faith in what their leaders say and do. Karnataka’s Congress government has become a cautionary tale of how a state that prides itself on intellect and progress can descend into performative populism.

Karnataka deserves better. Its welfare policies should speak through impact, not inflated claims. Its leaders should be judged by the rigour of their governance, not the glitter of their certificates.

If this episode proves anything, it is that the Congress government’s greatest achievement so far has been in the realm of make-believe. And no number of certificates - fake or otherwise - can disguise that uncomfortable truth.

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