Heads bop to the rhythmic beat of the power-packed rap lyrics. On a cold winter evening, musicians, hip-hop enthusiasts, and artistes gather in one of Delhi’s underground cafes in Safdarjung to celebrate and listen to their favourite artist, Pho. She raps about freedom from the rat race, peace of mind, and love.
“Mera muh se bada panja uska, hai baaton mein milawat dhanda uska (His hand is bigger than my face, he minces his own words often),” she raps into the mic, as the audience joins her.
With a mic in her hand, she engages the group of 40 people who’ve paid Rs 300 to see her perform. But there is no stage separating Pho from her fans. The enraptured crowd does not applaud in awe, but instead joins her in singing along and swaying to the beat of the lyrics, celebrating Delhi’s underground hip-hop culture. In a baggy t-shirt and sunglasses on her head, she weaves in and out of the crowd, urging the ‘backbenchers’ to join her.
Hip-hop in India rides on the popularity of Bollywood movies such as Gully Boy (2019) or artists like Badshah or Divine. But rap – of the non-commercial kind – reverberates in the underbelly of cities like Delhi, Pune, and Guwahati. Their hip-hop spaces may be far from the mainstream world, but they are just as loud.
“I want to do something grand, and I want people to remember me,” Pho tells ThePrint.
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The language of music
Akriti (23), who goes by her stage name Pho, is a beatboxer, singer, and rapper who is now making her mark across cities.
“Pho’s music is infectious and you can tell that her energy comes from her heart. The world of hip hop can be cut-throat, but for her to come up as a woman and do this is incredible,” says Arshiya Sridhar, a fan of Pho, during the performance at Chef’s Diner in Delhi’s Safdarjung.
A polyglot of sorts, Pho studied Japanese and German as an undergraduate. But she found her language in the world of music. “I was hoping to follow in my sister’s footsteps and become an interpreter or translator one day, as she is very successful. But since I was 13, I knew I wanted to be a singer and performer,” she said.
As a teen, she started off by experimenting with Christmas carols and rap at her Catholic school and later performing in the college canteen. Slowly, she started discovering groups of like-minded singers and beatboxers and found herself drawn deeper into Delhi’s hip-hop scene.
Now, with her first extended play (EP) album Bheetar Bahar out, she independently completed a tour across Delhi, Mumbai, and Pune. And she did it without the backing of a music label but with the ringing cheer of the audience nudging her along.
She also has one music video called Aastik, which only cost her and the producers Rs 40 to make. She sings about the balance of feminine and masculine energies and how it alters her worldview.
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A storyteller
Pho is a storyteller. Not just with her words but also in her innate ability to connect with her audience. Her storytelling extends to how she makes others feel around herself.
“People like to feel involved and if I make them feel like I am inviting them to my celebration, that will always hit them differently,” she says.
While she could promote her art solely through the YouTube algorithm or Instagram reels, Pho values being on the ground with her music and performing live. “I do not want to be just a social media artist. I want to be someone people can connect with,” she adds.
Her rap is real, relatable, and raw. In her new song, Nayi Ladki, which is set to release soon, she talks about her own experience of emerging as an artist and being a ‘new kid’ on the block.
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Not a gig, but a house party
Pho emerged as a rapper to take note of with the help of a hip-hop collective based in Delhi called Spit Dope. Members who are rappers, beatboxers, musicians, and producers get together not just to jam but also to pump each other up.
Since its inception in 2014, Spit Dope has provided a platform for rappers and like-minded musicians, filling a void and popularising hip-hop in India, says MC Kode, one of the founders. “We started off doing rap battles in Hauz Khas Village’s Deer Park and now we do regular showcases around the city,” he adds.
Watching Pho perform alongside other members of Spit Dope is not the same as buying a ticket to a gig. It is like being part of a boisterous house party.
It’s a large extended family where members back each other up, share their work, and inspire each other – a support system for financially constrained independent artists fighting the stigma that comes with singing Hindi rap.
As a woman, she found acceptance in this collective. In a field dominated by men, Pho says she felt safest in Spit Dope.
“I never felt different from any of the other artists because I was a woman.”
But that gaze turns intrusive when she performs outside SpitDope. During one of her performances at JLF Stadium before a morning marathon, Pho says, “I could feel people looking at me and wondering why I was there as a woman, singing like that.”
But Spit Dope allowed her to shed her definition of being a female rapper, and it is not something that she tries to cash in on. “Pho wants to break away from societal chains and the identity of being a female artist,” Kode adds.
If Mumbai’s rap is raw and gritty, Delhi’s rap is more lyrical and nuanced with influences that vary from Raftaar to Badshah and KRNSA. And Pho is emerging as a voice to listen to.
“Even if my voice or lyrics are not the best in the world, I can put them together in a way that will wow people and make them wonder where I was all this time,” she says.
And her group agrees. “She is perhaps only a video away from blowing up completely,” Kode says.
(Edited by Tarannum Khan)