Girls Just Wanna Have Fun [Pt. II]

By Sailee Dadarkar

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The Girl Group Moment: Rouge and the Rise of Pop Collectives (2000’s).

By the time the early 2000’s rolled around, Indian pop had already experienced its solo goddess moment, with Uthup’s cabaret brilliance, Hassan’s disco-pop reign, and Chinai’s Bollywood-flirtation-meets-actual-pop-perfection. But something new was brewing at the turn of the millennium. While global pop culture was riding the high of Destiny’s Child, the Spice Girls, and TLC, India found its own answer, Rouge, a trio of confident, choreographed, and unmistakably cool young women who signaled that Indiepop wasn’t just about solos anymore. The era of the girl group had arrived.

Rouge was made up of three dynamic performers, Anushka Manchanda, Tina, and Malini, who burst onto the scene with their 2004 debut album Pal, produced by Times Music. The group came out of the Channel V Popstars talent hunt, the Indian franchise of the international TV format that launched manufactured pop groups like Eden’s Crush and Girls Aloud. Unlike earlier talent discovery mechanisms (think: club circuits, Doordarshan, or classical music backgrounds), this was the era of music-as-TV: flashy, dramatic, competitive.

‘Pal’, the group’s signature track, was sleek, danceable, and visually polished. The video featured the girls in coordinated outfits, breaking into choreographed routines, something that still wasn’t the norm in Indian music videos unless it was a full-fledged Bollywood item number. Rouge’s appeal lay in its hybrid identity: they were urban, multilingual (singing in both English and Hindi), and clearly shaped by global pop templates, but they were also thoroughly Indian in style and sass.

Rouge represented more than just music; they were visual and cultural icons. Their image was built around being bold, youthful, and just a little bit rebellious.Their aesthetic was informed by Y2K fashion, low-rise jeans, crop tops, butterfly clips, and their sound was a mix of R&B, electronic pop, and bubblegum melodies. It wasn’t about virtuoso singing; it was about performance. Indian music had never really emphasized ‘group chemistry’ in the way K-pop or Western girl groups did. Rouge changed that. Their synchronized moves, stylized videos, and onstage camaraderie made them unique.

But then again, Rouge weren’t the only women shaping Indiepop in the 2000’s. This was also a decade of solo acts who embraced the DJ culture, dance-floor energy, and glamorous presentation of the post-MTV world.

DJ DOLL was a curious anomaly, part persona, part product of the remixes boom. She leaned heavily into the trend of reimagining old Bollywood classics with EDM beats and heavy autotune. Her iconic renditions of songs like ‘Kaanta Laga’ and ‘Thoda Resham Lagta Hai’ weren’t originals, but they dominated nightclub playlists and mobile ringtones alike. These weren’t about purity of music, they were about energy, sex appeal, and viral audio-visual content.

Then there was Sophie Choudry, a VJ-turned-singer whose British-Indian accent and confident glamour gave her a crossover appeal. Her songs like ‘Ek Pardesi’ and ‘Baby Love’ were slick, well-produced, and aligned with the UK-Asian pop fusion vibe that artists like Jay Sean and Raghav were pushing abroad.

The girl group and remix-driven solo artist era of the 2000’s is often dismissed as ‘cheesy’ or ‘plastic’, but it was actually crucial in redefining what music could look and feel like. It taught us that: Pop could be visual-first. You didn’t need to have an RD Burman backing to succeed, an aesthetic vision and the right TV play could propel you to fame.

They also proved that Pop wasn’t just the Western import, it could be made in India: By this point, Indian pop didn’t feel like a rip-off; it had its own slang, sounds, and swagger.

Despite the hype, the girl group model never really became sustainable in India. Why? A milieu of reasons. One, lack of industry infrastructure. Unlike the K-pop model, India didn’t have labels investing in long-term training and branding of groups. Two? Bollywood dominance. The film industry still held the purse strings. Music not tied to a blockbuster film rarely got the same distribution or longevity. And three? Short shelf life of remix culture. While remixes were a hit, they got overexposed quickly. With piracy and ringtone monetization overtaking album sales, artists struggled to make money or gain artistic respect.

Eventually, solo playback started absorbing many of these artists. Anushka Manchanda went on to become a sought-after playback and indie voice. Sophie Choudry became a TV and event personality. DJ DOLL faded into obscurity, a relic of the remix era, occasionally brought back to life when re-discovered by Gen-Z’s on Instagram reels.

Regardless, Rouge and their contemporaries were part of a short-lived but important phase when Indian pop felt both global and hyper-local. Even if it wasn’t Bollywood or classical, it was something else entirely, that still managed to occupy malls, college fests, and nightclubs with equal authority.

The Digital Pop Renaissance: Aastha Gill, Dhvani Bhanushali & the YouTube Era (2010’s–2020’s).

If the 2000’s were about remix tapes and Channel V stars, then the 2010’s marked a fundamental shift in the way Indian pop was made, consumed, and monetized. Gone were the days of needing a record deal or a TV slot to be noticed. This was the YouTube generation, DIY, algorithmic, and hungry for new icons. And once again, women stepped into the limelight.

Enter Aastha Gill and Dhvani Bhanushali, the defining voices of a new kind of pop. One built not just on radio airplay, but on clicks, shares, reels, and Spotify streams. Let’s break down how this new ecosystem worked, and what it meant for female artists.

Gill’s breakout moment came with ‘DJ Waley Babu’ (2015), her now-iconic collaboration with rapper Badshah. Released on YouTube under Sony Music India, the track was instantly addictive, layered with heavy bass, party-anthem production, and Gill’s breathy, unapologetically sassy vocals.

What stood out? She wasn’t just ‘the girl on the hook.’ She was central to the song’s identity. Her phrasing, her style, her performance in the video, all carried equal weight to her male counterpart’s verses. This marked a subtle but important evolution in Indian pop: the woman was no longer there just to add a ‘melodic layer’, she was a co-equal, if not the main draw.

She belongs to the new breed of digital-native artists who are not signed and shelved by labels but partnering with them for fast-turnaround releases, merch, and Instagram cross-promotions. Her Instagram Reels, music video premieres, and influencer collabs all form part of the marketing machine.

If Gill was the banger queen, Dhvani Bhanushali emerged as India’s streaming sweetheart. Soft-featured, classically trained, and camera-friendly, Bhanushali began her career with emotional ballads and mid-tempo love songs that hit the sweet spot for Gen-Z and Millennial listeners alike.

Her breakout single, ‘Vaaste’ (2019), wasn’t just a hit, it was a phenomenon. The song became one of the most-watched Indian videos on YouTube, amassing over a billion views in under two years, a staggering figure, even by Bollywood standards.

Bhanushali’s trajectory has been unique considering she didn’t emerge from reality shows or acting circles. She was a commerce graduate who started uploading covers and gradually caught the attention of T-Series, India’s biggest music label and YouTube powerhouse. With T-Series backing her, she released a string of hits like ‘Leja Re,’ ‘Dilbar,’ ‘Nayan,’ and ‘Radha’, all optimized for YouTube virality. Her music has broad appeal: romantic but not too niche, urban but with small-town resonance. Bhanushali became the middle-class digital India dream, aspirational but relatable.

Her vocal style isn’t overpowering, it’s clean, controlled, and sits comfortably in the midrange, perfect for repeat listening on mobile speakers. She’s not trying to be Beyoncé. She’s trying to be your favorite voice on your commute, your heartbreak playlist, your college fest.

Bhanushali is also part of a growing trend where women singers are increasingly doubling as fashion influencers, brand faces, and multi-platform content creators turning their careers into a personal brand.

This era of Indian pop became inseparable from the rise of digital platforms. YouTube became the primary place to launch and promote music. Artists like Gill and Bhanushali built entire careers around the platform’s ecosystem of thumbnails, thumbnails, and suggested autoplay loops.

TikTok (and later Instagram Reels) turned song hooks into content formats. Tracks were now designed around 30-second highs to trend on social media.

Spotify, Gaana, and JioSaavn helped artists move away from label dependence. Indie-pop singers could now chart on curated playlists, get discovered via algorithms, and even go viral globally without a film release.

This changed what ‘pop’ sounded like, too.

That said, they’re also not fully indie. These stars were usually tied to massive labels like T-Series and Sony. Their music is commercial, tested, and made to trend, not necessarily to challenge or critique. Still, they’ve helped expand what mainstream music can look like. They’re not waiting for Salman Khan to lip-sync to their voice. They’re performing their own lyrics, in their own videos, on their own terms.

Insta-Fame and the Expansion of the Indiepop Girl (Post 2020).

In the 2020’s, Indian pop is no longer confined to club bangers or romantic ballads. It’s vibe-first. Tracks are now often mood-based: lo-fi pop, chillwave, dreamy electro, folk-infused electronica, sad-girl anthems, or glitter-trap.

Kayan, aka Ambika Nayak, is a perfect example. A singer, DJ, and model, she doesn’t follow a single genre. Her tracks like ‘Cool Kids’ or ‘Please’ are urban, R&B-inflected, and introspective, but still feel like late-night party closers. There’s no major label behind her image, it’s all curated on her own terms.

Similarly, DOT. (Aditi Saigal), who broke out with ‘Everybody Dances to Techno’ on YouTube, creates bedroom-pop that sounds closer to Regina Spektor than anything on Indian radio. Her songwriting is clever, intimate, and lyrically driven, with a timeless vocal quality acting as a clear departure from aimed at mass-market appeal or TV-friendly aesthetics. 

After TikTok was banned in India in mid-2020, the vacuum was quickly filled by Instagram Reels, which became the default platform for music discovery. But something shifted: Reels became aesthetic. While TikTok had a raw, accessible energy, Reels demanded glamour, polish, and branding.

This worked perfectly for new-age pop girls like Natania Lalwani, a Los Angeles–based Indian singer who’s dropped viral English-Hindi pop like ‘Yellow Lights’ and ‘Feelings’. Her music has the polish of international indie-pop stars (think Lauv, LANY), yet she peppers it with Indian emotionality and soft visuals.

Instagram also amplified the collab culture. Artists like QK (Qaran-Karishma) thrived with backdrops of neon lights, rooftop dance reels, and influencer co-promos. This period normalized the visual as musical identity; your outfit, set design and choreography became a part of your sonic footprint.

Although, one of the most exciting shifts in the 2020’s has been the regionalization of pop. Punjabi pop, a long staple, saw a creative renaissance, with women like Gurlez Akhtar rising through duet hits (e.g., Riar Saab & Gurlez on ‘Obsessed’). Her strong, dynamic voice has become a go-to in the male-dominated Punjabi music world, challenging norms of how women sound in folk-pop.

In the South, artists like Arivu’s collaborators, including female Tamil rappers and indie singers, are rewriting what pop means regionally. Collaborations between independent artists across languages, Hindi, Tamil, Malayalam, and Punjabi, have created a sonic India that’s far more diverse than what Bollywood alone can offer.

But although the game seems the same from the outside, the playing field has definitely changed. Artists in the 2020’s have started to navigate a hybrid space. Unlike the 1990’s or early 2000’s where a label like Magnasound or T-Series determined your reach, today's stars are often label-assisted but not label-owned.

Ananya Birla, daughter of business tycoon Kumar Mangalam Birla, began as an indie artist with English tracks like ‘Meant to Be’ and ‘Let There Be Love’, working with international producers like Afrojack and Mood Melodies. Though she had resources, she insisted on being seen as a songwriter and pop star in her own right.

Her label, Ananya Records, promotes indie talent and aims to spotlight underrepresented female musicians. That kind of power inversion, where the pop girl owns the label instead of being shaped by it, is a 2020’s mood.

The 2020’s also mark a time where Indian pop girls can dream global without selling out. The idea of being only Bollywood no longer applies. Even Spotify Wrapped data shows an upward trend of Indian listeners streaming local, non-film music especially female-fronted, across genres like electro-pop, lo-fi hip-hop, and R&B.

But ironically, even as the sound globalizes, the voice gets more personal. These artists sing about isolation in a digital world, navigating social media anxieties and self-acceptance, queer love and identity (e.g., openly queer performers like ALOK or indie visual artists scoring music videos), climate crisis, politics, mental health. This is a shift from the party-love-dance trilogy that dominated the 2010’s. It shows maturity, and a willingness to let the music speak vulnerably.

This entire journey is a testament to the fact that women have always known how to own the Indiepop space, to carve a niche, to break through the stereotypical ‘dal-chawal’ music, and give their own ‘desi tadka’ to the industry. And one wouldn’t be wrong in saying that some of these pop-stars were true visionaries, maestros who introduced India to a new soundwave. 

From the kanjeevaram-clad jazz of Uthup to the bedroom pop of Kayan, Indian pop girls have always thrived in the space between resistance and reinvention. Their voices have cut through the noise of Bollywood, bringing bold visuals, hybrid sounds, and unapologetic femininity to center stage. Though the platforms have changed, from cassette tapes to Spotify streams, their essence remains the same: fiercely independent, globally fluent, and culturally rooted.